Dancing in India

Madhu-ji is the local program coordinator at the FSD-Jodhpur site office. Her brother got married yesterday. We were invited to the ceremony, and arrived decked out in our shabby finest, most of us having purchased only a couple of cheap traditional Indian clothes a few days ago or borrowed clothes from the FSD office.
Despite being annoyed at the assertiveness and rambunctiousness of people here, I find myself also charmed by the wide-eyed stares of practically everyone I meet. I love their authenticity; they are not afraid to show their curiosity and don't hide behind a façade of indifference. Little children on the bus fix their eyes on me; some older children smile shyly and wave as we pass them. A little beggar boy grins and runs up to us every day on the street below the FSD office and tries to get us to hand over some money (we never do). A lady I sat next to on the bus, upon noticing my silver hooped earrings, fingered my ears and commented that I should get more piercings and wear more earrings.

We were greeted with the same sort of curiosity we’d been experiencing upon entering the reception area. A pair of old Indian men took some bright orange scarves and wrapped them around the male interns’ heads to make turbans as a form of respect. A young girl shyly asked me and my friend if she could take a photograph of us with her camera phone [yes; they may not have clean water or soap everywhere but they do have many high-tech phones]. I consented but made her take the picture with me. A little boy, encouraged by his older sister, walked up to me, hand outstretched. Not knowing what he really wanted, I took his hand and shook it.
As mentioned in my previous post, many Jodhpuris spend most of their lives in Jodhpur and have little contact with foreigners. They do learn things about foreigners—particularly Westerners—but most things are stereotypes, and they judge us according to their cultural standards. We [the interns and the FSD staff] spoke about being conscious of our actions so that we project a good image to the community; many Jodhpuris seem to assume that foreigners are sexually “loose”, drink too much and wear revealing clothing. The challenge for us is to show them that despite our different cultures, we can still contribute to and be part of their community.

Apart from that preconception, foreigners attract attention in Jodhpur because there are so few of us around. We’re “the freakshow”, as my friend put it. The Jodhpuris want to know what we do, how we’re different or similar from them, and why we do what we do. I don’t mind being stared at because I stare at people too (in Singapore, in India, in the US; it’s a bad habit of mine), especially babies. It does feel like we’re these film stars, always under scrutiny [Jodhpur has a very active gossip culture], and yeah, there is probably that whole white superiority thing going on (or, developed country superiority thing, since I’m not white), but at some level I stopped analysing things and just accepted it.

Madhu-ji asked us to dance, and of course I couldn’t resist. The group of male instrumentalists were playing Indian-style music, though, I didn’t know how to dance to that. So we copied Madhu-ji and the little boy dancers who joined in our circle. The moment we began dancing, people began to crowd around us to watch. Another lady joined in, swaying her hips side to side, and after a bit of watching I found the rhythmic pattern and began to improvise within those parameters. My fellow FSD interns joined in as well, and we danced for the length of a song. The song stopped and people began to disperse until the “DJ” put on a hip-hop-type Indian song. Marcus, a senior from Butler University, and I knew how to dance to that, so we started dancing, and all these little Indian kids came and joined us! Hips gyrating, arms circling in the air, they danced with abandon and delight. Most of them were little boys, and while I tried to dance with them, they seemed more interested in dancing with the male interns.

Adults joined in with the dancing as well; young men were pulling each other up, forming dancing circles, yelling, dancing in pairs. Their movements were big and energetic, which contrasted with the women’s dainty, sharp hand movements. Fewer women danced. Both sexes danced separately from each other. In fact, I soon became struck by the men’s dominance. The men were clearly the centre of attention, taking up most of the dance floor; the women formed a much smaller circle in a corner. While many boys and young men danced, the women’s circle consisted of Madhu-ji, another lady, a young girl, and some female FSD interns. The men also pulled the groom onto the dance floor, leaving his bride to sit by the sidelines watching. The women did not pull each other onto the dance floor; most of them sat and watched instead.

The young girl’s desire to dance was palpable. The minute she saw us girls dancing, she leapt in to join us, and I mimicked her movements—all moves you would see at a Western party. While some of us took a break from dancing, she repeatedly tugged Madhu-ji’s arm and motioned towards the dance floor. I could empathise; I love to dance with music and it broke my heart to see her denied of something she wanted so badly. So after catching my breath I took her to the dance floor and we danced until I had to leave.

I learned later that women do not usually dance in the presence of men, and Madhu-ji and the other women who were dancing were allowed to because they were the groom’s relatives. I was angry inside: why do the men get all the attention? Why do women have to live by all these rules?

How much dancing does the girl who wants to dance do with her girlfriends? Or is everything in her life geared towards what the men in her life want of her?