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September 30, 2007

The Dance Floor Orgasm

Oh well, it’s 9 days late, but here it goes anyway à Happy Birthday Eve*!

She (we, me, us,) completed a year of Existing here on blogosphere on September 21. And to all who read, don’t read and leave funny comments (anonymously) saying “You suck”, a big Wink! Thanks for sticking around, for whatever weird, bizarre or bored reasons. (Hug to everyone, butt squeeze to the cute ones)

So Friday night went for this kick-ass event, Midival Punditz burned the house down at Tabula Rasa (means clean slate, and funny how stage two of my Mission Personal Liberation started here on a balmy April night…)

How does one know it’s a damn good night? When you reach home, think it’s too early to have come back home (even though the place had shut down) and realize it’s 4.30 am. And that you have work in four hours. Ah. What a night.

Kab khayal aap ka nahi hota,
Dard dil se juda nahi hota.
(Thoughts of you don’t ever leave my mind,The pain never leaves my heart)

First, the live jam – Indian Ocean drummer, a flautist and the Punditz (Gaurav-Tapan) wowed those standing, sitting, swaying. Then DJ Rohan took the to the dais and the discs and dished out beats that thumped right within your chest or in the soles of your feet. Standing still was impossible. The icing on the cake or the final blow-my-mind-shot was Tapan’s return to spinning some absolutely wicked, wicked, fucking wicked grooves.

So there was Tapan: Head bent over, deft fingers teasing, tweaking, tuning and weaving vicious magic that pulled. Oh HOW it pulled. Two men disgraced themselves by climbing on to the stage and trying various versions of pole dancing and hip-thrusting. One was too old to hip-thrust and the other had too many freckles and was taller than the pole he was trying to… well, never mind. Not a pleasant sight. (Haha, Emcee Nitin Sukh was mortified and shook his hair-banded head saying, “We don’t do this shit, we don’t)

However, knowing HOW close I was to smooching the speakers and making love to the boom-thump-boom that flew out of them and hooked me right behind my belly button… Well, those men are pardoned. Even the other DJs present looked bright eyed and red-cheeked. You could not deny Tapan. I had a VERY hard time not surrendering and maintaining dance-floor-decorum.

Kesariya balam, padharo mahare des
Jin nainan main piya basse
Un nainan main kaun samaye
(My Lord, come reside within my Soul.
When my Beloved dwells within my eyes;
It’s but Him you see reflected within me)

Anyway the way I dance follows no rule book, steps etc. And then, when the music GETS me, I close my eyes and let go. Then, it’s just the music and me. (And um, given that I go to most places alone, it’s not always nice or comfortable, BUT, the body takes over, the mind is anyway on a different plane…without drinking or any other enhancer) Like DJ Sunny walked up, poked shoulder and said at one point, “Oi, come back to this planet will you?” Grin. It’s becoming more dangerous, stepping out of the house, for I cannot control my self. It’s all there, simmering, smouldering on the surface.

Erm also, when you are small and showing a bit of cleavage, what you forget is that those taller – almost everyone is taller than I am – get a much better view (of much more) than the ‘little’ cleavage that is showing.

Then there was Papon Angarang and his larynx. He made love to the pole too while singing and the way his eyes dance! My. Lucky pole. (haha) While the original Ali has been sung by Kailash Kher, Papon’s teasing, laughing start to Ali first made you smile and then well… There was this moment when Papon stretched his left arm to the audience, while his right held the pole behind him and sang. Mad curls, crazy vocals and he sang. (Deep respect sir) This was the first time I heard Papon. It won’t be the last.

Duniya vich bas tu hi tu
Mera jism bhi tu, meri jaan bhi tu
Doori sahi jandi nayi
Ankh lag di nayi
Ratt katdi nayi
Tu halat meri dekh ve sahi
Tujh bin jindadi lag di nahi

(There’s only You in this world,
You are my body, You are my Existence.
Cannot tolerate this separation.
Cannot find any sleep.
Cannot go through the night like this.
Can You not see me suffer?
Can You not see I can't exist without you anymore?)

And amidst my on-dance-floor orgasming, three jerks pissed me off. I kept avoiding them, they kept coming after me. I moved two steps back, they still tried rubbing their bums against mine. And. Well. I lost my temper. But, did not harm them. However, I wonder had they known I was carrying a khukri in my pocket that I can use VERY well, wonder if they would still have tried the butt-rub. It’s a small blade with a very neat edge; and after much practicing, I can slip the blade out of the scabbard very easily. Anyway. Thanks to the management at Tabula Rasa, had a personal bouncer tailing me after that.

There was a witness to my losing-temper. And ah, he messaged me after that; and well, when someone with brains flirts, it is always good fucking fun. Sample:
Him: Oi, hot head.
Me: Me?
Him: You are so fuckin J…
Me: Don’t tell me you write your own lyrics too?
Him: Pull-shit. You know you are. While I sit inside, my heart trips on the dance floor. Come into the restaurant, talk.
Me: Ah, if only I did not love music so much. Don’t you?

So on and so forth. It did not lead to anything, but for considerable mood-lightning. And as I left, he asked if I had to leave. I said I had to. And he said, almost with a promise: “All in good time,” with the wickedest grin I have seen in a long while. Amen to all-in-good-time. Ha ha. I LOVE intelligent, talented men.

And then there was Could Be Trouble. Each time I am certain CBT will not be trouble; he sort of reinforces he very well could be! There are his eyes for one. Did I imagine it or was he actually burning me with his eyes from over the heads of 70 people? I don’t know. I saw him perhaps looking at me and I quickly shut my eyes and turned away. I wanted to dance, not think. I like his hugs. Ok. Enough said. (Argh, sigh, ooof.)

A night well spent. Even if there was no love. Who needs love? When you can dance. (and I have said that twice before, me thinks) And before the Punditz completely change the direction of my Sunday, let me go change the music.


Maxine said...

1. A married guy who wear boxers,on a fine new day,comes home with a set of briefs,wears it and starts running in the treadmill.I mean...just in briefs, nothing else!Gets embarassed for buying briefs and asks wife, baby,do you want new set of underwear?
Have read somewhere that buying new underwear,expensive perfumes etc are sure signs that your partner is cheating on you. hmmm.

2.Another married guy,roams around in a social networking space,sending,inviting,messages from gay men and makes plan to meet up.Makes me wonder...is it all about sex?Do men not think about sex even for a moment?Maybe hes not getting enough from his wife??

Sorry to take this space for this.But need to know how other minds think about such situations.Would like to have some answers.

Anonymous said...


i see sex or 'making love' (is a better phrase than sex) as an expression of love, if there is no love in the air, then i just cannot make love.

Trying to find greener pastures with other partners does not work mate, it just screws up one's life even more. One also realises the grass ain't any greener on the other side.

So, hum along "Son...... u b a bachelor boy & that's the way to stay...."

Hey Jhoom,

u did make my last one year interesting/ memorable if i can put it that way .... a muah on the chatting clit (if allowed)! Keep writing & be happy

Maxine said...

Yea anonymous,if only everyone decides to stay a bachelor and not to fall for the social need for a marriage.hmm.Oh well...

Nah...cant muwah the chatting clit.She hugs and you sound cute...so...you know what you would get.haha.