My cab ride home. The driver is telling me about Indian Dance, the different forms he knows of, various bits of history…he tells me about a dance that’s done out of happiness, as a celebration. At festivals? I ask. He says Yes! He couldn’t remember the word ‘Festival’. He tells me about a dance that only sick people do, which I find interesting. Silence. He looks at my face in the rearview mirror. No, Sikh People! Sikh People! he says. We laugh and laugh.