There is something very happy about masakkali. It compels you to place a pigeon on your head and dance away to drunken glory.
But as I was prancing back through dimly lit streets with the usual crowd, (after some great and some not-so-great songs by a blue capped Mohit Chauhan) I realized how utterly terrified I am of getting out of this entire set up. These, these buildings and classes and ledges and people and jheelpar and milan da and KMR and sanskriti. It is altogether too addictive. Too perfect. Too right.
We were laughing at a comparatively older woman in the concert today. But a few years down the line I could be that woman. Desperately trying to fit in; with a crowd of younger faces around me. Remembering the times when perfect happiness meant downing a few pegs and dancing to some hindi songs with a few chosen friends.
I don't want to leave. Ever. I refuse to leave. And until the time I am kicked or pulled out I will continue to try and dance on the rooftop with the pigeon on my head.
Tujhe kya gham tera rishta,
Gagan ke baansoori se hai,
Pawan ki guftagu se hai,
Suraj ki roshani se hai,
Udiyo na dariyo kar manmaani manmaani manmaani,
Badhiyo na mudiyo kar nadaani..
Ab thaan le muskan le,
Keh sana nana nana na hawa
Bas thaan le tu jaan le
Keh sana nana nana na hawa.