The dance

True to Mohini's style, her sari pallu slipped off her shoulder. "Oops," was all Mohini said.

While Mohini took her time to cover her humongous assets, a voice announced, “My wife has a way of getting attention, no darling?” It was Mohini’s husband and assistant sports editor, the bright, brilliant, boisterous Sanjoy Singh: half Bengali, half Sikh and a complete bastard. And even as Mohini preened, he added, “She manages it even when there are such pretty girls half her age standing with her,” Sanjoy added, giving TLC and me a thorough top-to-toe look. Mohini controlled her facial expressions well and put all her effort into pulling up her sari pallu. “So what was the topic being discussed here? I saw our TLC in fits of laughter…” Sanjoy added, at which, TLC giggled some more. “Oh we were just asking Suparna if she could dance,” chimed in Mohini, still smarting over the age comment and trying desperately to show how cool she was.

But when it comes to picking on people, I am always the wrong victim to choose. Apparently Sanjoy Singh felt the same. “I am sure Suparna can dance, her body seems the type that can move well… on the floor. And then I have seen her make the boys dance to her tunes,” he said and added, “Why don’t we see for ourselves, eh?” he probably meant to ask me to dance, but someone else preempted him… “Suparna! Suparna, here’s your drink,” announced Kutty, approaching the group, nearly spilling over the orange juice in his excitement. “Who’s dancing?” Kutty asked in the same breath and before anyone could respond – and much to everyone’s surprise – he said, “Come Suparna, let’s dance,” and perhaps he would have pulled me but both his hands were full.

“Why don’t we all finish our drinks and then you all can hit the floor?” suggested Runu, who had so far just been watching everything unfold with a straight face. “And while we are at it, let’s give the young lady a chance to decide for yourself, am sure the other boys here would like to dance with her as well,” added Runu and looked at me slyly. He had clearly called the other men ‘boys’ and had even called me a ‘young lady’. I knew the reverse psychology that older men often tried. “I will dance with everyone, the old for the moves of yesterday and the young for their energy, which am sure the old cannot match,” I said and looked pointedly at Mohini.
To be continued…