Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Well I am. Apparently I’m terrified.

Two nights ago, with the mercury hitting a not so cool 25 degrees, I made my annual migration down to the basement to sleep. Every year when the temperature gets warmer and me and my mother have our annual “Why can’t we put the AC on?” argument discussion, the result of which is usually an explanation that is a hybrid of environmental, economic and body temperature issues, I gather up my duvet and my pillow (in a huff no less) and head downstairs to sleep on our fold up couch in the basement.

This usually works out well for me. It’s cold enough in my basement for me to bury myself under the covers and still feel comfortable. But two nights ago everything changed (dramatic enough?). I had just dozed off when I started hearing loud beeping noises. I woke up with a start, my heart racing wandering what it could be. And then I felt it. I was actually afraid of what I might find…a carbon monoxide leak? A fire? A stow-away living in my basement while he’s running away from the law?! So I sat still…paralyzed, absolutely sure that the axe murderer living in my basement would jump out of a closet and attack. When I finally did get up to investigate, I couldn’t track down where the noise was coming from. Eventually, the beeping stopped and I calmed down and told myself that I’m an idiot. But just as I began rearranging myself it started again, this time louder, with each beep getting longer. So I did it. I yelled for my mom.

Half asleep she came down the stairs telling me how horrible it is to be awoken by beeps (she was preaching to the already jittery choir). She walked around the basement and calmly pulled the couch back from the wall.

“It’s the carbon monoxide detector…the couch was pressing the test button.”

“Oh.”

I would try to justify my fear of loud noises when it’s dark…but there isn’t enough relativism in the world to make this sound normal. Have I ever felt more like a six year old in my life?

June 14

Somehow this morning lapsed into this idyllic Chennai morning (at least the Chennai of my childhood)–the smell of camphor, woodfire and rasam all at the same time. It was a morning that started so early that by 9am, we all felt like it was time for lunch and a midday nap. By the time we were done cleaning and eating prasad all of us curled up with various reading materials and tried desperately to stay awake. For the most part we succeeded.

Every now and then I’m struck by events that are so mundane and significant at the same time. Today’s events will repeat themselves every year for as long as I live, yet it will always make me think about what life would be like if I didn’t have to mark it’s passing. And even though I know better than to ask this question, it always leaves me wondering why things are the way they are.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye

I woke up at 7.56 today–four minutes before I was supposed to be at the studio. This is never a good start to a day. I skipped my shower and my breakfast and ran out the door to make it to the studio in a record breaking 14 minutes. In short, I was starved, tired and parched armed with nothing but a banana for sustenance for my five hour day. This coincided with my last day of teaching in Toronto. I teach 5 classes on Saturdays. For two of these classes, I have taught them from the beginning. It’s hard for me to look at them without having to swallow this feeling that I created them, or at least I created the dancers that they are.  Those kids have never given me a reason to yell at them, or be bored with their classes. Their speed and intelligence never ceases to amaze me and somehow just when I think I’ve pushed them to their 11 year old limits, they surprise me.

I told the girls that they were special to me. My very first class. The class in which I made mistakes, the one that I grew in. Well, I didn’t tell them that, but I sure was thinking it. I remember how afraid I was when I took their first class thinking that whatever they were as dancers would be a reflection of me as their teacher. But I shouldn’t have been so afraid. I got the best possible group of kids to help me through my first few years of teaching.

But it wasn’t until this year that they started to open up to me…in that they no longer look shell shocked around me and feel free to speak even when they’re not spoken to. This makes it especially difficult to leave. Starting September I won’t be teaching them. I’ll miss them when I’m gone.

Despite all of this, I wasn’t expecting much of a reaction from them on this front but at the end of each of my classes my kids said the best thing I’ve ever heard: We’ll miss you. And as cheesy as it sounds, it totally made my morning worth it.

Raw Hide

Blog? Qué?

I’ve dedicated this summer to everything that I can’t categorize or indulge in when I have more important things to do. I’ve been off a little more than a month now and I’m pretty sorry to say I haven’t gotten around to the fun stuff just yet…or for that matter the useful stuff. All I’ve done is clean. It’s the year end purge to end all year end purges. For some reason I’ve always attached feelings to things (it’s a whole new level of sentimentality)–regrets to papers, memories to books,  and nostalgia to gifts (maybe not in that exact order). Funny, I don’t know how to finish the thought. Maybe it’s because the end is so predictable, or angsty or embarassingly juvenile.

Anyway, here’s (an excerpt of) my grand list for the summer:

1. Cook. I need to cook edible things that I can live on. This is key. ESSENTIAL. I need food that doesn’t taste like feet.

2. Bake. I’ve always wanted to bake cakes that don’t taste like bread.

3. Learn languages. It is despicable that I don’t know more than one language properly.

4. Ride a two wheeler. I have never in my life ridden a bicycle. No wait I lie, I did once, I fell and that resulted in what is now the worst scar I have on my body. The tumble has led me to be a little over cautious which now makes me use my backside as a strategic balance instrument which is reaaallly not so pretty for those standing behind me. For a dancer, and someone who’s not so bad at staying upright while skating AND rollerblading, my lack of balance is mind boggling. Am I just destined not to ride a bike? It makes it so horribly tempting to throw sticks at kids on two-wheelers.

5. Knit. I haven’t knitted in ages. At last count I was knitting the cutest most pastel coloured baby blanket I’ve ever seen in my life. No, no one’s having babies (I wish!) and it’s a little too creepy to say that I’m waiting till I can give it to someone…or someone’s progeny,  so I’ll give you a very truthful albeit far less interesting reason for it…I can only knit in rectangles and squares.

And now I’m going to go eat food that thankfully doesn’t taste like feet (mostly because I didn’t make it).