Being Women

When I Danced Like Kajol And Something Embarrassing Happened

My grandmother muttered something in Tamil shaking her head in disbelief and went inside. My aunt smiled and patted my father signalling, she is all yours. When both of them were out of the room my dad laughed out loud.

I was 12.

The Shah Rukh Khan starer ‘Kuch kuch hota hai’ was my favorite movie back then. Dad had purchased the video cassette of the movie on my repeated insistence. I was a hopeless Bollywood movie lover, something I was secretly proud of. 

One of those days, I was alone at home. It was probably a week after the cassette came home, and I had seen the movie a couple of times. Parents had gone to the office and siblings to school. I had stayed back due to sickness.

Now, when you are alone, you think of all possible stupid things to do! And I was no exception. I decided to watch that movie again, for the 10th time, I believe, gosh! 

And just then, it clicked on me.

I had the same white T-shirt with a white jacket that matched with what Kajol’s character wears in the movie in one scene. I wore it to get the feels and then, on a brilliant idea, took out my jeans too and wore it to look precisely like Kajol in a particular scene after she had the makeover in the movie. I didn’t have the blue headband, so I tied my mom’s blue scarf on my head for authenticity. My curly hair was no comparison to Kajol’s silky smooth hair, but hey, if I had a dedicated personal stylist, I wouldn’t have lagged far behind. Wink Wink!!

Now, if Kajol can act, so can I. I mean, I am talented. I knew that. Who are we kidding?

I forwarded and played out the scene and acted out the sad song when Shah Rukh tells Kajol that he loves the other woman and not her.

What emotions, I say!

All set as Kajol. I ran devastated from the dining room to the living room, acting out in tears. I caught hold of the side table of the sofa and sulked down, saying the dialogue.

“Mera Pehle Pyaar Adhura reh gaya Rifatbi… Mera Pehla Pyaar Adhura reh Gaya..” (My first love is incomplete, Rifatbi. My first love is incomplete.)

And I cried. 

The song was still going on, but I was mighty content with my act. So much so that it would put Kajol to shame. Seriously! 

But then my acting spell broke when I got out of my avatar and saw my dad, aunt, and my grandmother in front of me. Boo!!!

When acting, and acting like an ace, you disown the world. And also, when you know that there is nothing that can disturb you or take you away from the character’s skin, you don’t hear the main door open with the key. I wondered if I missed the doorbell too.

These are signs of a good actor, you see- immersed into the character—depth of understanding….and all that.

Once my folks walked into the room, all they did was stare at a 12-year-old on the floor, all dressed up and crying for her first love with the movie music giving the background music in my reality. No, don’t laugh. 

I sat there with tears now. Real. I was staring back at them cluelessly.

My grandmother muttered something in Tamil shaking her head in disbelief. She went inside as I tried to understand what she said. My aunt smiled and patted my father, signalling- she is all yours.

Now, my dad and I looked at each other. Both were unsure where to start and where to end. Both were scavenging for the right words when my dad laughed out loud.

He told me to hang on and went inside to get the camera to click a picture.

Seeing the camera, I ran to the bathroom, embarrassed. And didn’t come out for a long time. 

There was no word exchanged between us until in the evening when my mom asked how my cold when my dad butted in.

“Forget the cold, ask her how’s her first love?!” Needless to say, that movie was never played without people around gaping and grinning at me.


By Shefali Naidu

Shefali Naidu is a choreographer by profession but writing has always been her passion. She is active in social media writing circles with her short stories, thought-provoking articles and humorous anecdotes. She can be contacted at shefali.naidu@gmail.com.

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