Nightclub Yoga at the Beach
A chronicle of how a perfect Sunday became imperfectly perfect.
Hey there, readers! It’s been quite some time since we’ve talked. I hope you lovely souls have been cheerful and vivacious.
Life has been monotonous for me recently, with each new day no different from the previous one. I’ve been feeling blue out of the blue (you see what I did there?) I guess it’s partly because of the lack of smiling faces around me, and partly because I feel lonely. I haven’t seen my friends in a while; the lack of bonding and regular communication takes a toll on those oh-so-important oxytocin and serotonin levels, you know. Well, let’s hope it’ll all be okay soon.
Now that I’ve told you how I feel, there indeed was one day in particular that managed to dissolve those blues. It was last Sunday, and I’d been at the beach, early in the morning.
Let me get one thing across.
I. am. not. a. morning. person.
Yup. Although I do love the cool breeze that hits my skin and the beautiful sunrise that unfolds, I just cannot get myself to wake up at dawn. Then why was I at the beach that morning, you ask? My mom and I are from different planets- and that is the reason. She looks forward to waking up early and being active and healthy. Let’s just say that she has the soul of a youngster and I have that of a well-fed pet cat. Not that I’m lazy though. I’m hard-working, but just never woke up on time even for school. So there we were, at the beach, waiting to be blessed by the first rays of sunlight.
I strolled along the shore, watching the rhythmic flow of the current. There were all kinds of people- old uncles jogging (who relentlessly proved that their stamina was way better than mine), families with three-year-old babies (who either refused to set foot on the sand or get out of the water), and health-conscious foreigners.
The tourists engaged themselves in a variety of activities, but all of them seemed to have one goal in common- to absorb as much of that beautiful vitamin D as nature would permit. Many of them were from countries that don’t not receive sunlight for months on end, so the beach was perfect to make up for that loss.
Once the sun finally rose, I sat down on the soft sand, facing the ocean. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The breeze was gentle, and the silence was sweet. Silence is something that usually amplifies my thoughts. But that day, it put my mind at ease.
Now we get to the interesting part.
I sat there for almost half an hour. And the entire time, I could see a tourist from my peripheral vision. She was focused on her yoga, and I was on grounding myself. However, once I was done doing that, I paid more attention to the things and the people around me. This is when I truly noticed my yoga neighbour.
It was six-thirty in the morning. She was middle-aged and was doing yoga in a swimsuit. Her makeup was her distinguishing feature, though- It was blingy. She stood out from the crowd because of it. I still wonder if she knew it had spread all over, because of sweat and sea water.
My legs hurt because of having sat cross-legged for so long, so I took off my slippers. And as soon as I did so, I was greeted by a rather high-pitched voice saying hi to me. I turned my head, only to see my yoga neighbour smiling down at me, now placing her yoga mat right next to me. I greeted her back and smiled.
She then asked me to join her.
Cool, I thought and joined her.
But then two minutes later, she abruptly stopped, said sorry, voluntarily helped me dust off my clothes, and went back to her previous exercise spot. I did not think much about it and sat down.
Then she reappeared two minutes later, telling me to follow along. I did so. She told me I was great at it, and I too made small talk this time. I asked her where she was from, but could not understand her response because of her accent.
But she suddenly got up and walked off, yet again. Okay, that was weird.
She returned a couple of minutes later, yet again. This time, she said something different.
Nightclub? She asked me. I looked at her, confused.
Nightclub? I asked her back, with an I-lost-you-at-that-one look on my face.
Do it with me, she responded.
There’s a yoga move called Nightclub? I thought to myself. Eh, let’s see.
She was now standing right across me, an arm’s length away.
She first did some hip circles, her hip movement being pretty isolated from the rest of her body. I then copied her. Then it was the isolated chest circles.
Okay, this is a bit…
Not that the exercise in itself was weird. I’m both a dancer and an exercise enthusiast, and it still managed to look scandalous.
I got increasingly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I followed along.
Before I could comprehend anything next, her next moves morphed into a hip-swaying nightclub dance. Which in turn proceeded to turn into an even more sultry dance performance.
All within seconds.
At seven in the morning.
In front of an audience that did not want to watch and was staring at us.
I then might have involuntarily made the most meme-able face, which abundantly relayed to her my discomfort.
She stopped, saw my expression, and walked away.
I then sat down again.
One, two, and then three seconds went by in silence.
And then I burst out in a fit of giggles.
Now that I think of it, why on earth would Nightclub be the name of a yoga move? I didn’t realize it back then. She wanted me to dance with her.
But again, who could have predicted that a yoga session would turn into a whole dance performance?
And that, dear readers, was what managed to beat my blues that day!
