“Go away, coward! You are crying as if you are a girl! Now get up and I warn you if you cry.”
Milan heard this voice. The voice was that of Shankarkaka, their neighbour. The voice travelled from the compound below and entered from the window to Milan’s room on the first floor. The voice was so loud and harsh that Milan thought as if Shankarkaka was telling him only. He sat there for a while gathering himself. Why only Shankarkaka, his own father Vinodbhai also used to say such things to him many a times.
After a while, Milan got up slowly and looked down from the window.
The kids used to gather in the large society compound everyday to play games like – cycling, cricket, football, hide and seek – all the games went on simultaneously and sometimes the boys and girls got into squabble due to this.
Right now, also a quarrel was going on amongst a few girls and Ankur and as a result Ankur, who was only six to seven years old, was crying. He sat on the floor and started crying and his father Shankarkaka was scolding him very rudely:
“Get up, get up now, are you a girl? Get up.”
With great efforts Ankur could control his sobs and started moving towards his house. Milan, was standing far away, still could feel that the harshness on Shankarkaka’s face had softened.
Milan could easily understand the stiffness, sulkiness, happiness on the faces of fathers. He could read his father Vinodbhai’s face since he was a child.
He came and sat on his study table dragging a chair after closing the window. The computer was turned off. Milan was not much fond of computers. He was not excited about surfing various websites on internet and chat for hours like his friends Varun and Akshay. His father used to scold him for that. He turned out to be a very strict ‘Papaji’ shown in the movies for that and said: “Why don’t you use computer. I have specially bought it for you. You are so femi...” he swallowed the rest of the words. And then Milan could read out the fury, unhappiness on his father’s face.
He knew it well what was going to happen after his father came back home and when he would put his school form in front of him. The school had sent a form to be filled in for the selection of two subjects apart from the regular ones for Milan who was in ninth standard.
Milan had already put a tick mark on his favourite subject. He could imagine what his father would say on seeing this. He knew his father well for the last fifteen years.
He was a fifteen-year-old son of Vinodbhai who already had two children earlier and Milan was born after many years. So as a result, he was much coddled at home and everyone used to call him ‘Bhailo’. Papaji made efforts to turn him into a real ‘man’.
Vinodbhai came home from office and took rest for some time. Milan put the school form in his hand with much hesitation. His father’s face which had softened a bit on seeing Milan, hardened on seeing the tick mark on Milan’s favourite subject.
Then there was deadly silence in the entire house. Papaji had so much command/peremptory over the house. Everyone in the house went here and there out of fear. Mummy went into the kitchen on the pretext of finding something from the kitchen drawers. Grandma started doing rosary in front of the temple. Vipul started turning pages of his medical books sitting on the table in the balcony and Suchetadidi started reading a book ‘Finalization of Accounts’.
Everyone was silent. After an angry outburst even, Papaji got quiet. Then he got up and started moving around. Once again, he said in rage, “Change the subject. Change it right now.”
Milan did not reply. Collecting himself he sat on the sofa. He felt like running out and hide somewhere but couldn’t as for doing that he was to come across his father once more. Vinodbhai had never beaten ‘Bhailo’ till now but both of them had come face to face two-three times.
Once again there was silence for a while. Papa really loved his fifteen-year-old son Milan who was fairly tall for his age with a delicate face. And that’s why he worried more for him. He got restless and shouted again, “Where is everyone? Do I have to break my head all alone?”
Mummy came out of the kitchen slowly and stood there. She and Milan looked at each other. As they were facing papa’s back, she signalled Milan to to follow his father’s command. Milan looked in other direction. Pappaji coughed. With a controlled self he put his hand on Milan’s shoulder but then quickly withdrew it and said, “Look Bhaila, Beta, you are a good boy. Please forget this nonsense. Such feminine hobby will put you and me in an embarrassing situation and people will laugh at us.”
Milan looked down. Papa thought that Milan was listening to him carefully so he continued, “I work so hard for all of you and your comfort. Why do I earn? So that one day I could see you in a better position than me.”
Then Vinodbhai put the school form in mummy’s hand saying: “Here, please read it. Tell me if I am wrong?”
Mummy read the form which she had already read earlier and pretending as if reading for the first time she nodded her head and said, “Your father is right, Bhaila! Tell me which subject you are not comfortable with? Maths? Science? Accountancy? We will arrange tuitions for these subjects”
“I have already told Ramnikbhai to send the tuition teacher to our house. I will remind him again,” Papa said in such a way as if he was trying to convince a mentally retarded child.
“I can understand it is difficult initially but with practice you will feel comfortable. Our neighbour was saying that they all adamantly worked hard for their son Unmesh so he could score eighty percentages in board exam,” mummy said in a convincing voice.
Papa responded, “Why are you giving example of Unmesh? Look at our own Sucheta, your elder sister. Can anyone say she is a girl? She has always stood first competing against so many boys? She is not my daughter but my son?”
Sucheta became a little alert on hearing her own name and looked at Milan for a while. Again, she started reading her book.
“Say something for God’s sake! I have been lecturing for so long. What kind of choice is this?” Vinodbhai was really angry now.
Milan finally spoke with hesitation, “Suchetadidi is fond of such subjects so she is comfortable in them.”
“That’s the matter. If you concentrate you can also develop liking for these subjects. But have you ever tried enough to concentrate on your studies? This twenty-four-hour cable TV is responsible for such indifferent mentality of kids these days,” Vinodbhai’s voice raised high. Mummy was worried about his blood pressure.
She said, “Please you relax and take some rest. We will take care of this matter later on.”
“Hmm.” Vinodbhai replied. He did not want to leave the matter but thinking that they still had time till the next day to convince Milan he went inside.
Everyone felt relieved and went on with their business. Vipul went to hospital for his night duty. Didi went down stairs. Mummy went into the kitchen.
Milan sat all alone in the living room. He switched on the TV with a little vacillation. He kept the volume low. There was a telecast of a Bharatnatyam programme of an emerging dancer Kartikey on TV that evening. He wanted to watch it. Luckily, he was all alone in the room. Kartikey was all shining bright on the little screen. His entire body took shape of various mudras, curving and moving in new shapes flowing as smooth as water.
Milan was mesmerised. His feet started moving. His hands became restless to form various dance mudras. Aah! How elegant were the emotions on Kartikey’s face! Sometimes like Radha, sometimes like Krishna.
Milan felt like crying. He wanted to learn such dance. As a result, he had chosen dance instead of accountancy in ninth grade. And this had led to his father’s fury, mother’s tears, elder siblings’ sarcastic comments of – “You are still a small kid, Bhaila!” The last stroke was hit by his father, “You want to become a dancer, a nachaniya!”
***
Papa went to meet the Principal of Milan’s school.
“With a lot of trust in you we have taken admission of our children in your school so that they can study well. We don’t want to spoil their future by permitting them to learn dancing,” Papa said to Gohilsaheb in a strict voice.
“Mr. Kapadia, calm down. Listen, we are only following the instructions given by the Department of Education. We are only interested in our students’ all-round development,” Gohilsaheb responded patiently. He was used to such verbal attacks done by parents on and often either in annoyance or with sobs.
“What calm down? What is there for me to understand now? How can Dance be a subject to be taught in school for boys? For girls it is all right though.”
“Kapadiasaheb, what is wrong with boys learning dance?”
“What? Is it not wrong? The twenty-first century boys should be taught computers or finance,” Papaji was losing his patience.
“That will be done anyways but twenty-first century will also call for arts, won’t it? It is important to develop interest in various arts?” The principal tried to explain his point of view.
Papaji got furious, “So you could find none but my boy to exhibit your interest in arts?”
Gohilsaheb kept mum for a while and then spoke slowly with patience, “Look Mr. Kapadia, we had grown up in a different time all together. It was an age of stereotypes. Girls only had to learn stitching-embroidery or home science. Now a days, the society do not believe in such restricted views. See, how girls are progressing these days! If girls could become pilots, why boys cannot learn dance?”
The father couldn’t help getting up after listening to such a lengthy explanation.
“This is all rubbish. Milan wants to learn dance. How can my son have such feminine desires?”
“He himself has chosen this subject.”
“Yes, because he has no sense at all but I have. Why don’t you cancel this subject altogether? If not accounts than computer or you can also offer special English. I am ready to pay extra fees for that.”
Gohilsaheb said peacefully, “Students have the right to change their options. Why don’t you talk to Milan about it?”
The question to consult Milan in this matter did not rise as only Milan and a few girl students opted for dance at school. Around one fifty other students opted for Accounts. The school had to hire a part-time teacher for Accountancy as a result but it could not afford to hire anyone for dance due to the scarcity of students.
Since nine standards onwards only the school started preparation for tenth board. The parents were not to be legged behind. Tuitions, coaching classes, special notes of expert teachers like Dipak Sir and Bhatt Sir – you name it and it was available. Milan also started his tuitions for Maths and Science to be continued till twelfth grade.
Once Milan was watching a dance show telecasted from Ahmadabad Durdarshan in a closed room when Vipul noticed him. Then the entire house heard his sarcastic tale of Milan watching dance show with much amusement.
After this incident Bhailo stopped watching dance shows or making dance mudras all together. He cleared tenth grade with eighty percent marks.
Sucheta stood first in C A exam at all India level. The entire house was filled with phone calls, fax, SMS and bouquets of congratulations. Sucheta received a special felicitation from their community. During that function Papaji and Sucheta were sitting on the stage. The other members of the family were seated in the audience. A leading fellow of the caste said while praising Sucheta, “I feel proud today to watch this with my aged eyes. In earlier time our daughters had to face a lot due to lack of education, harassment of in-laws – those days are gone. Today the girls have proved themselves better than the boys. They have been liberated from these social evils.”
The hall filled with a big round of applause. Bhailo was still young. He was not much expressive and used to talk a little. That day he looked at Papaji on the stage as if asking him, “The daughters have been liberated but then why are the boys still under so many restrictions?
***
(Original title ‘Bhailo-Bailo’ from a short-story collection ‘Ila Arab Mehtano Varta Vaibhav’ edited by Dhiruben Patel, published by Gurjar Granthratna Karyalaya, Ahmedabad, 2009)