Radha on the Dance Floor

A lazy weekend.

The building’s cultural committee announces Janmashtami celebrations on Monday.

Kids could go dressed as Krishna or Radha and even perform, if they chose to.

I casually inform my daughter that she could dress up as Krishna or Radha.

She proudly pipes up, “I am a girl. I am going to go as Radha”.

Ok. I quickly make a mental note of what she could wear and the topic is forgotten.

She gets busy playing with her friends.

Sunday dinner time

A firm voice declares, “I want to dance tomorrow. Please teach me something.”

Of course, I dismiss it as a random statement. I am already mentally winding up for the night and preparing for the week ahead.

And I haven’t even thought of any performance. In my mind, there is not enough time to prepare her.

Dinner over.

She walks up to me and says – “Is your kitchen work over? Please come and teach me. I want to dance tomorrow.” 

I stare at her – blankly.

But she is sure.

What follows: Frenzy for the mommy

Mommy quickly wrapping up work.

Mommy mind multi-tasking and thinking of an apt song.

Ahaaa…. Of course… the recent “Radha on the dance floor”

Dishes are clanging.

Ummm no… that song would be too un-Janmashtami.

Leftovers packed and put in the fridge.

Oh yesssss… the eternal classic - Madhuban mein Radhika.

Cleaning up the kitchen platform.

What steps can I teach a determined little girl so that she could perform tomorrow?

And all the while she waits patiently.

Daddy is helping her with her night dress.

Finally I say, “OK, come. I shall try teaching you a few steps.”

1.5 minutes – not a very big deal, I convince myself.

She picks up the steps with rapt attention, practices a few times and declares – am ready.

But is the mommy mind ready?

a)  The program is the very next evening. She has school in the morning. So there is really no more practice time.

b)  Come to think of it, this would be her first solo performance. Won’t she get stage fright? Oh well ok, be prepared, she might just refuse to dance when on stage.

c)  She also wants to carry a real matka!! What if she drops and breaks it??

d)  And she wants to wear a veil !! Oh God, too much pressure on my mind.

All this for a 1.5 minutes performance (would be termed blink and miss performance).

D-day (or rather, next day)

She wakes quickly from her post-school afternoon siesta.

Willingly and very co-operatively gets ready for the dance.

Last moment, (as if my worries aren’t already enough) she comes up with a suggestion –

“Ma, wont you paint my fingers and palms red?”

Ohhhhhh??!!

The little brain understands that the mommy brain is dysfunctional at the moment.

Proactively fishes out her red sketch pen and hands it to me with a victorious smile.

And I get to work quickly on those little palms and finger tips.

I take her to the performance zone and wonder “Will she really go up alone on stage?”

Her daddy returns just in time to catch her. He asks her if she is prepared.

A nonchalant shrug of shoulders indicates “Of course!!”

And Radha goes on the dance floor.

It is not “just” 1.5 minutes anymore.

It is then 90 seconds of pure fun that she has, 90 seconds of pure joy that daddy and I derive.

90 seconds that tell me – calm down.

It’s us adults who have so many worries in the mind.

These young ones are free of all such inhibitions and are hence, brimming with confidence and happiness.

They are more capable than we think.

And those precious 90 seconds later, a delighted smiling face comes off the stage.

Oh, and what do we have here? Unexpected little stinging in the mommy eyes.

A little bit of pride – for the little one had confidently taken to the stage.

And more of happiness – mommy has always cherished the Indian classical dances, especially Kathak. And to realize that the little one is developing a love for such dance is so very heartening.

So… Here’s hoping that my little Radha continues to take to the dance floor. 💃