Why we cannot dance like Pappu?

The new movie song that goes, "Pappu can't dance..." evoked many long lost memories. Back to 1975-1976, at Wadala, Mumbai, where as classmates, we followed our friends to their local church parish at Antop Hill during the December month. This was the time when all the churches in the region, from Don Bosco, Antop Hill, St. Josephs and the nearby areas began preparing for Christmas and New Year.

For most of us, at St. Josephs, this was also the month when we got invited by our classmates and friends to join in the preparations, the practice for dances, the sampling of different types of cuisine, the preparation of plum cakes and ginger wine, and we could usually get included in all the local sports competitions to vie for trophies with prize moneys of Rs. 11 to Rs. 22. 

The parts that we looked forward to, needless to specify, were the sports events, of course. No, not at all. I am lying. We looked forward to the dance practice sessions and the preparation of different types of food. Wadala to BPT colony to Antop Hill, we were one big stretch of cosmopolitan diversity. Even among the christian families, we knew Thomas Mathew and Melwyn, both keralite christians, but one, a syrian christian, and the other a roman catholic anglo-Indian, and then Venantius Pinto, a roman catholic from Goa, never seen one more truer to his soil, language, spirti and of kindred souls, also D. V. L. N. Rao, for all his long Andhra name, a protestant from Nellore, and also, one whom I cold never make out, but a diamond among all of us, Kenneth Nazareth. Impeccable in dress, handwriting, studies, behaviour, affection and of true love from his soul. 

Each one of them, introduced us, got us sneaked in, helped us sit throught, and led us out of our shy hesitation to watch the dance practise and, get to start dancing. This hesitation was not about dancing, period. So, we had statements that still ring in our ears, even after 33 years, I guess, for all my classmates, "Arre, Pradeep, you can't dance, yaar..." and, "Sunil can't dance, kaltu..." and of course, the ringer still, "Firdaus can't dance, even by himself..." 

And then, after 33 years, this movie comes along. I have yet to see it. I always wait to see movies on TV rather than in the theatre. I have seen Alistair Maclean's "Caravan to Vaccares" at Aurora theatre in Kings' Circle in 1975, where the balcony ticket cost was Rs. 1.25/= only. I cannot  therefore, get myself to see something like "Spiderman 3" for Rs. 125/=. You cannot even compare the thought at all. I would like to retain the memories. But then again, thats' another story.

This song that goes, "Pappu can't dance..." brought back memories. Of Melwyn, Venantius Pinto, Godfrey, Bosco, Milton, Sunil, Zaheer, Firdaus, Adil, Bahaar, Narayan, Mahendra, Zubin, Kenneth Nazareth, Murali, Pradeep, Thakur, Jagdish, Ramesh, Srinivas, Sanjay and Sridhar. We all had one thing in common. Some could not dance properly, while some thought they could, and most could not dance at all. But, we did dance. Only, we had our own dance.