Drama! Dance! Murder! Sounds like Bollywood (and Sue)

I *thought* I'd prepared myself for my first Bollywood class at J'Adore Dance. I loaded my iPod with the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. Watched the movie a couple of times - great flick, btw. I discussed "Bollywood" around the work water cooler. Downloaded YouTube videos of various routines. And procrastinated for about two weeks before taking the plunge.

Not bad, right?

Except that I don't think anyone can truly prepare for the awesomeness that is Bollywood.

I had no idea the steps would be so fast. Or the music so catchy. I couldn't have predicted how much I would love it, and I definitely wasn't prepared for Luke. Sure, he's a good looking guy (close your eyes, handsome hubby), but more than that, he's captivating. Luke makes it look easy.

It so isn't.

The steps aren't complex or even as sweat-inducing as a Jessica Fit Hop or Kasha Salsa Burn experience. But you are expected to perform. Bollywood, as Luke points out, is about telling a story - so your motion should be fluid, and your expressions...well, expressive.

Drama is not my thing, but I "get" storytelling. It's what I do.

I also know that's what dancers do. It just wasn't until last night's Bollywood experience that I made the connection.

Essentially, it comes down to showing versus telling - sound painfully familiar my writerly friends? For me too, but it was the kind of revelation that smacked me between the eye balls last night (or maybe that was the after effects of feeling like I'd been hit by a truck named Kasha...wicked Salsa Burn workout...)

Bollywood isn't quite my genre - meaning, I still have to understand the story before I can convincingly tell it. But I want to. For some strange reason (cute instructor aside) I need to learn Bollywood. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the music, the moment.

The story.

I just have to take time to get to know MY character.

And survive.

Actually, I'm grateful after two fairly intense classes last night, I'm still alive to blog. Sound dramatic? Try this on for size...

Sue is back at Salsa Burn. (New to the blog? Revisit her here.)

I thought the break would do us good, you know, bring back some of the love, but before Sue even arrived at the studio, I received this text: Do I start cursing you now or do you want me to wait until we are dancing?


The threats started five minutes into the warm-up.

I sympathize a little because Kasha worked us hard last night. We launched into the Quick Salsa (my heart is still racing) and cha cha cha'd our way into a grueling final two exercises. One of them has my abdominal muscles cursing Kasha this morning - and I'm sure is the reason behind my teenager's "tummy" troubles today. (Sidenote: My stepdaughter has decided that "hawt abs" will be hers, no matter what it takes. Last night's intense standing crunch workout has now moved Kasha to heroine status in my teen's eyes...Nice work, Kasha!)

In typical Sue fashion, the threats escalated throughout the night - perhaps fueled by Kasha's ultra warm welcome back hug (traitor), until before parting, Sue actually warned my to watch my back.

Don't worry, Sue. After that workout, I'm watching my back. And my abs. My buttocks. My arms...

And yeah, I slept with one eye open.

The Book In My Bag Today: Another One Bites The Dust, Jennifer Rardin