I’ve got a feeling
When I and my chuddie-dost log were growing up in MIG flats our parents got allotted by lottery system, there were no 24x7 entertainment channels. But we had the movies. Though there was only one video player amongst several similarly strained families, we all lived on generous credit from the local video store uncle.
We were angsty, fidgety teenagers with weird hairdos, and we all loved films where the have-nots (us) clashed with the haves (all creatures in HIG and kothis with private video players), and won. The battles we loved the most were beautifully choreographed fights — guns, kung fu and dancing. Apart from the Jackie Chan and Clint Eastwood films, and of course the latest Bollywood releases, we were all besotted with dance films. No, not the Singing In The Rain, or the Saturday Night Fever variety. Ours were the days of Madonna and Michael Jackson — after Grease but before Patrick Swayze came into our lives — and we were hungry for street dancing movies.
First came Grease 2: school campus romance, gangs (T-Birds and the Pink Ladies), rivalries and two songs that thrilled us to bits — Reproduction and Let’s Do it For Our Country. Then came Flashdance and Jennifer Beals, the maniac from Pittsburg who welded stuff and wanted to be a ballet dancer. Torn sweatshirts became a rage, as did her haircut and leotards, and everyone wanted to slip off their bra just like Beals had done.
The next year (1984), we got two life-altering films: In Footloose, Kevin Bacon brought crazed dancing to the streets of a town that was anti rock’n’roll and made us all desperate for Walkman; and then there was Breakin’ where Kelly (Lucinda Dickey) and Ozone (Adolfo Quinones) gave us break dancing at its angriest, stylish best. There were rival dance gangs to beat and competitions to win; class barriers and everlasting love. It was the stuff of dreams. And that’s why it’s heartening to see that a mish-mash of the stuff we so loved in the Eighties is popular even today, in episodic avatar.
Dil Dosti Dance (Channel V) is set in a college and is about rich kids versus poor kids (Dazzlers and Weaklings), dance competitions, slimy rivals, egos and romance. It even has idiots for comic relief.
The show’s stars are not the sort of boys and girls whose posters you’ll stick on your bedroom walls, and these kids are no great actors either. But, hello, can they dance!
The actors in this show are dancers – trained or self-taught – and they put on a mean dance performance every few episodes.
Despite the annoying couples and their nonsensical chattering, I found myself drawn to D3, waiting for their next performance. That, bhaiyon and behno, is the magic of dance and that’s what makes this silly, dumb show special. My bones are creaking and yet I feel as if I’m back in my MIG flat, dancing on my bed with my Walkman, screaming:
...I've got this feeling
That times are holding me down
I’ll hit the ceiling
Or else I’ll tear up this town.
Now I gotta cut loose, footloose...
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