The Little Puppeteer
The Little Puppeteer
Just another chapter from the life of the Accomplished Acrobat and his family.
It was Saturday afternoon. Renu had gone for her dance class. It was almost four. At five, her class would be over. As usual, Remya and I would go to the park, spend some time there and then pick up Renu. We would stop for a Saturday treat on the way home.
When we reached the park, there was a film shooting going on, so we weren’t allowed to enter. Remya was disappointed. I cheered her up with a sip-up. I didn’t want to go back home and come again later. There was just under an hour before the classes would be over. But I was unsure about waiting with an energetic six year old at the dance school for so long.
“Papa, let us go and see Chechi dance.”
Though I was amazed at this sudden interest, I pretended to be surprised.
“That is a good idea. Let us go.”
So we stood inside the dance school one Saturday afternoon, a father who loved to see her daughters perform and a daughter whose only experience in dancing was when a bee stung her on one of her legs. Renu was the dancer in the family. Remya was happy just seeing her and clapping.
I wasn’t sure if we would be allowed into the classes, so we just walked around listening to the various dance songs. I recognized Carnatic music being taught too. I loved music, but unfortunately had been blessed with no musical genes.
We walked listening to Sa Re Ga Ma. There was a melodious voice at first, then a bunch of excited voices, some so out of tune that even I could understand. Remya seemed to like it. I could feel myself pushed to that side.
“Do you like the music, Remya?”
“It sounds good. Papa, I want to learn too.”
That was the way Remya decided things, in a moment. And probably she would pester me till she got what she wanted. I could milk it for two to three days, during which she would do whatever I said. Then either I would give in or she would forget about it. But this time, I didn’t want her to forget about it. I did want her to learn.
“If you really want to, you can learn. I will ask the teacher about classes and then tomorrow maybe, we can come back and fix things up. What do you say?”
“Yes, Papa, let us do it.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious. I loved to see her round eyes gleam.
When we got home and explained things, Sindhu was sceptical. Remya’s likes were varied and none of them lasted for long. Renu also was not too thrilled at having her kid sister tag along on her dance classes.
“Amma, okay if she wants to learn. But please don’t ask me to keep an eye on her. I have enough of that at school. She and her friends irritate me all the time.”
Sindhu smiled. “Ok dear. But she is your little sister. So don’t talk like that about her.”
I had talked to the teacher and fixed things up. She was to start lessons the next day. We went to the temple in the morning. After all, she was going to learn a new skill. We wanted to have Goddess Saraswati’s blessings.
All of us got into the car. Renu was also into the spirit of things now and was describing all the fun they had in school.
“Maybe you could also learn folk dance. Papa, can she learn folk dance?”
“Let us take it one at a time, dear. We will see later.” I answered, for I had seen certain warning signs on Remya’s face. Renu in her enthusiasm had been detailing how her teacher kept a stick near her and unhesitatingly used it on anyone who missed a step.
“Vidya says the music teacher is worse. At the end of class, she makes each of the girls sit near her one by one and sing. And then, if you make a mistake, she pinches you. Vidya told me one girl had a huge red mark on her hand.”
In the rear view mirror, I had seen Remya’s eyes widening in horror.
“Renu, stop teasing your sister. Remya, I am sure the teacher won’t do that. Once in a while maybe she does that, but that to children who don’t pay attention in class. I am sure you will do fine.”
We reached the school. Sindhu handed over the betel leaf, areca nut and the one rupee coin to Remya. She dutifully gave it to the teacher and touched her feet to get her blessing. I could see my little girl looking at the teacher doubtfully. Poor girl! We had never hurt her in any way. In school also, she was the teacher’s pet, the one who finished all sums first and did her homework perfectly. This was a new arena for her. I made a small prayer.
We stood outside class for a while. Now the bunch of voices didn’t seem so much out of tune, now that my precious daughter was one of them. Sindhu and I exchanged smiles and we left.
Two weeks went by smoothly. Remya was still excited about singing and would go Sa Re Ga Ma at the slightest provocation by unsuspecting guests.
Then one day, Remya came back holding Renu’s hand. Though it touched my heart to look at them, I knew something was wrong. Renu would willingly hold Remya’s hand only rarely when she couldn’t bear to see her little sister cry.
Remya ran to Sindhu’s arms and started crying. Sindhu comforted her, while I looked to Renu for an answer.
“Papa, it is not good” began Renu in her grown-up way. “Today in class, while the rest of the girls were singing, Remya was sitting simply. When the teacher asked her why she isn’t singing, Remya said she was bored with Sa Re Ga Ma. She wanted to learn something else. Then teacher said you have to learn Sa Re Ga Ma properly before you learn anything else. Remya refused to sing. So the teacher beat her.”
I listened with mixed feelings. A part of me wanted to laugh thinking about Remya telling the teacher she was bored. But then I disapproved of corporal punishment, so I was sad too.
Sindhu had meanwhile calmed Remya down.
“She says she doesn’t want to learn music anymore.”
“Is it so, Remya?”
“I don’t like that teacher, Papa. She beat me. Look, my hand is red.”
I couldn’t see any redness, still I took her little hand and kissed it.
“Amma has already kissed it, so it is better now. It was even redder before. Right Amma?”
“Right, Remya.”
“Why did you say you are bored? Isn’t that why the teacher got angry?”
“Papa, it has been two weeks now and we are still singing the same Sa Re Ga Ma. All those nice songs with words that we heard that day, she is not teaching us at all.”
I couldn’t stifle a grin this time.
“Remya, it will be at least a year before you learn those.”
“Well, Papa. I am bored. I don’t want to learn anymore.”
I looked at her again. My music dreams were going up in smoke and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t force her into learning it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try it for some more time?”
Her eyes started swimming. “Yes, Papa. Please, I don’t want to.”
I knew I was being manipulated by a master, but I couldn’t help dancing to her tunes. I only wished I could actually dance to her tunes.
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