My Childhood Dream…..An old Age Reality

Have you heard of the little classical dancer wannabe in a family that was more Anglo Indian than Malayali Namboothiri? Well, I may have been all of two and a half feet tall at five years of age, but that didn’t stop me from draping myself in a sari and long hair creations just so that I could look the part of a typical Indian dancer. And here’s how I got the sari clad look – wound a towel about me and had another towel, one end of which I tucked neatly in at the waist, brought under the right arm and had it thrown loosely over the left shoulder – and, voila, my sari was done.

Now for the long hair – my bobbed hair needed at least half a dozen bobby pins to keep the three veils (that we used to cover our heads when in Church) braided together to look like one long plait, stuck to my scalp. The tassels(kunjam) at the end of the long braid – no, you would never have guessed it, so stop trying – was the cloth pouch that elderly women, in the long gone 60s, carried their money in, tucked in at the waist!  I sweet talked our maid to lending me her little cloth pouch, stuffed it with cotton and proudly tied it at the end of my wonderfully long faux braid! Can you imagine the feeling of joy untold when I danced around the house in my sari and long plait, and… hold your breath… in mother’s heels! 

That was the start of my lifelong passion for the sari (which, to this day, I believe is The Most Elegant attire in the whole world) and an unabated longing to learn Bharatanatyam, the classical dance of Tamil Nadu. As for my hair, yes, it did grow out as I grew up, but definitely not as long as my veil hair! Life happened unhindered – graduated, got a job, married, had children – and dance went down the drain metaphorically speaking, for, literally speaking everyday was quite a dance of sorts if you know what I mean! 

There is a time for everything and my time to indulge in my strong yearning to learn classical dance came when we, as a family, had to relocate to a big city. How lovely it was to know that I now had the opportunity to pursue my passion. Classical dance classes were happening right opposite our house, and that sure was divine indication that my time had arrived, that the entire universe was conspiring to bestow upon me the desire of my heart! I lost no time in checking with the dance master who happily agreed to come home twice a week and teach me the rudiments and later, the nuances of the art form. That yours truly was on cloud nine was an understatement, for, as a matter of fact, most of the time I’m on cloud nine, the die-hard romantic that I am!

My best friend, my darling husband, being the hard-nosed pragmatist that he is, gently reminded me that my knees were really not in good shape, but of course knowing how much this meant to me, gave me the green signal. And that was it. My childhood dream was actually becoming my “old age (I was well into my forties) reality!”  

I left no stone unturned as I observed and absorbed every little nuance of the dance form that I had adored right from infancy really!  And no, I am not going to camouflage the strenuous practice sessions. My dance master was as strict as I was passionate, and   there were days when I’d be sore in body and mind, but my spirit was indefatigable. This God-given opportunity was not lost on me as I put myself through rigorous training and had the opportunity of two solo public performances. 

Then the time was up to get back to our hometown and back to where I belonged, my workplace.  No more dance sessions. A part of me was sad that I did not go up to the Arangetram level, nevertheless I was elated that at such a late stage in my life I was given the chance to challenge my bones, myself, feeling ecstatic that it was never too late to learn, to follow your passion! Did I say “old age reality”? Well, I certainly am chuffed, because for me growing old gracefully also includes learning and pursuing what I love.  

(Betty D’Couto is the former Head, PG & Research Centre of English, Lady Doak College. She taught there for 35 years.)