tales for dreamers: an invitation to dance

You are invited to dance. Not that you need an invitation, but many seem to need a little coaxing these days.

In the olden days, the sound of music was enough to get people to tap their feet. In these times, too many other noises tend to drown out the music: the sound of traffic, the clatter of busy-ness, the voices in your head that you can’t seem to get rid off, no matter what you do.

So the dancers have learnt to dance without music.

Sometimes they hum or sing to themselves, but that too is hardly a necessity anymore.

They come dressed in the brightest colours. They sway their hips and throw their hands in the air. Their bangles and anklets clink and tinkle in rhythm with their moves.

Occasionally, a crowd gathers to watch them. People clap to a beat, but the dancers follow their own cadence and the crowd finds it hard to keep up. The crowd is also not a necessity anymore.

Eventually, most of the spectators give up and move on to other matters that demand their attention, other tasks they can contribute to and create a sense of purpose, some meaning, to their days. The dancers are forgotten, like a spectacle on the street, the occasional oddity one encounters in life without consequence.

It doesn’t bother the dancers one whit.

Sometimes, one or two of the crowd remain, watching and wondering. Long enough to eventually get up and join the dance. And when they do so, they find that they too need neither music nor applause nor an invitation to dance.