In the village, Kishanlal Ji was very proud of his intelligence. He loved arguing about everything, whether he understood the subject or not. The neighbors often joked that his life principle was simple: “If something goes wrong, it’s never my fault—it’s the circumstances.”
One day, there was a wedding celebration in the village, complete with music and dancing. Kishanlal Ji arrived full of enthusiasm and boldly announced, “Today, I will dance too!”
Everyone was surprised because no one had ever seen him dance before.
The drums started beating, and Kishanlal Ji stood confidently in the middle of the courtyard. He tried to move his feet, but his very first step went in the wrong direction. With his second step, he lost balance and ended up standing awkwardly tilted to one side.
A child nearby whispered, “Uncle, I think you still need to learn how to dance.”
Kishanlal Ji quickly replied, “I know how to dance. It’s just that the courtyard seems uneven today.”
People began to laugh.
He then tried waving his hands dramatically, but the coordination between his hands and feet was so poor that he almost fell. Somehow managing to steady himself, he said again, “This courtyard is definitely crooked.”
An elderly man at the wedding smiled and said, “Son, to dance well you need rhythm, not a perfect courtyard.”
Without missing a beat, Kishanlal Ji responded, “The rhythm seems crooked too.”
After the program ended, Kishanlal Ji stood outside and declared, “I know how to dance, but today the circumstances were not in my favor.”
The neighbors knew he would never admit his mistake, so they simply smiled and agreed, “Yes, yes, the courtyard was certainly crooked.”
On his way home, Kishanlal Ji thought that perhaps he should learn how to dance properly. But he also decided that next time, before dancing, he would first inspect the courtyard carefully.
The villagers still say that sometimes, when we don’t know how to dance, blaming the courtyard is the easiest excuse of all.
RAJEEV VERMA 