Swaying to the tune of Bihu...

It all started over an otherwise ordinary Sunday. Over generous cups of tea, savories, and sweets, erupted a familiar happy commotion. And once we were fed enough to be seated in one place and not scatter around, the agendas of the meeting were laboriously addressed, thoroughly discussed, and dutifully highlighted. Interspersed with shrieks, yawns, and other kind of protests from the younger members of the group from time to time. But we remained largely unfazed by any of those distractions, and carried forward with the discussions before returning to our lives that waited for us the next morning. 

Two months away from this day, was fast approaching the Assamese festival of Bihu, that heralds the first day of the Assamese calendar. The first day of ‘Bohag,’ as we know it. ‘Pohila Bohag’ as Deta would say enunciating each syllable, separating it from the Bengali, ‘Poila Boishak.’ The mere word rushes a stream of emotion through my veins. So many fond memories of this day lived in the Assam we have left behind. And wonder if we would ever find our way back to it again. 

Over that first meeting to discuss the Bihu event, something unprecedented had happened. While the discussions steered towards who would be doing the ‘Bihu dance’, with the previous dancers being occupied, my tongue had uncharacteristically slipped, and uttered, ‘I don’t mind joining, if I have company.’ And I found myself retracting almost instantly, as always, adding, ‘I might not have the right clothes though.’ And wished that no one listened to anything I had said in the heat of excitement. And I can easily wiggle out of it in time. But if only impulsive tongue got a second chance! 

Next thing I knew was, I have been added to a group over WhatsApp, named - Bihu 2018. And that was it. The slippery slope I had set foot on, led me to Orlando one fine morning, navigating a travel time of almost 2 hours, to do what...you guessed it...mark the beginning of Bihu dance rehearsals! The lady who opened her home and heart for the session, also managed to fix a lunch worthy of a feast that day. And our hunger, induced by the sways and gyrations of the first few rounds of dance, was quelled enormously. It also pumped us for another few rounds. And to my utter surprise, I was actually enjoying it. And all my initial inhibition was slowly making room for some confidence. It must be the company, it actually is always the company, that can make or mar moments like these. And I had three fine ladies to share these memories with. Cracking one joke at a time. Sorting one step at a time. 

Although this was pre-meditated, yet I consider ourselves lucky to have a fabulous Bihu dancer to show us the way to what seemed like a very intimidating road ahead of us. She had promptly shared her dance video over WhatsApp so that we came prepared on the first day. The sign of a great teacher lies in simplifying things for her students. And far from making things appear daunting, she broke it down to us like taking a toddler though a maze of new words. That must have added the extra boost that our moves dearly needed. And in our head, we were ready to fly! 

This is only the girls’ part of the story though. The men had their own sessions going on over other premises. A ‘Husori’ must first set the mood for Bihu, and serenade the ‘nasonis’ to join them in the celebrations. So the boys had gone on with their part of the rehearsals, well ahead of us. Despite  failing to turn up on time, and sometimes to turn up at all, their spirits however, were always high. 

The second round of rehearsal was when the men and the women came face-to-face. Not exactly for a face-off, but to merge steps wherever they presented a possibility. And our very abled choreographer made sure we tamed the brisk steps, till our ankles ached, our legs gave up, and our heads felt nauseous. But this was crucial, this last leg of the song that we were struggling with. For it is always the last beat of 'dhol' and 'pepa', ending in a thundering climax, that decides the success of a Bihu performance. So there was no question of slacking, but to keep pace with a stead-fast determination, with our master’s words echoing, ‘faster..faster..’ in the air. And faster it got, with each round of practice. Or, that is the goal we are dancing towards. The other goal is to not create a stampede in the process. 

Come Sunday we head to yet another venue, for yet another round of rehearsal. Which might just be the final one before the main event. And come to think of it, if we can pull this off in rehearsal worth of three days, it will be an accomplishment in my tiny book of achievements. 

I have never danced Bihu before this on a stage. Atleast not as far back as I can remember. Thought it might be useful to divulge this crucial piece of information right at this moment. But at the same time, I can almost never hold myself back to the sound of its beat, when I am in a safe enough zone. So here’s to the first of firsts then, to friendships forged over unusual terrains, and to life, that holds surprises in each turn. 

That reminds me, we must turn really fast in the second last line, you hear me, ma girls?