A Happy Kashmiri

“Pooja, please come and meet me after the class,” requested teacher Radha Madam.

“Sure, Ma’am," nodded Pooja who tiptoed Radha Ma’am soon after the class ended.

Radha Madam ushered Pooja to the green space that the school had recently established. Instead of confining counseling and discussions with students within the four walls of a room with an intimidating demeanor, the school promoted the notion of being in a positive space. The green space boasted of over 3000 plants of fantastic variety; there were wooden benches around the space. Healthy talks and team games amidst such a peaceful environment proved fruitful.

“Please sit down, Pooja.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Pooja loved being in the area and it did not happen very often because the students had to be accompanied either by a teacher or a parent.

“Pooja, I would like to have you represent the state of Kashmir. I am planning a dance featuring the different states of India at our Annual day this year. Would you be interested?"

Pooja’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Radha Madam beamed back in response.

Pooja and her friends, in the recent past, had begun discussing the most anticipated event of the year – School Annual Day. Recurring conversations occurred over the lunch breaks, each one offering to express their desired art form to be a part of, at the biggest celebration in the school.

Pooja readily agreed to her teacher’s offer. She couldn’t wait to share it with her parents, her sibling and her best friends.

“Wonderful, love. I am going to pen down a note to your parents so they are aware of. I will loop you in as and when the practice starts. We will all have fun doing the patriotic-themed dance show.”

Pooja smiled wider than before. She ran back to the classroom before the bell rang for the next class.

Pooja and Neha were obsessed with one another for the rest of the day, much to the confused surprise of everybody. Neha, who was Pooja’s best companion hailed from Kashmir. Pooja could not wait to be donning the Pheran as Neha animatedly explained about the diverse colors of the sleeves and the cute cap. The two girls quickly ran the pages of the social studies book and stopped at a page where an image of a Kashmiri woman appeared. It was a part of the “States of India” lesson. Pooja gazed at the vivid cap and the intricate scarf designs; she gaped at the beautiful jewelry that looked so stunningly pretty on the neck, ears and arms. The whole ensemble rendered an artistic look of sorts, bracelets included.

As Pooja prepared to pack her bags and leave for the day, at around 4 PM, she excitedly ran to the school bus, evidently avoiding the security personnel guiding her to the bus. She took her usual seat on the second row by the window. Pooja did not talk much for the next thirty minutes or so until she reached home.

During the entire journey, she was quiet and kept profoundly thinking of something. It could have been the result of the exhaustion caused by the enthusiasm and constant talking during the day; nevertheless, it did seem like there was more to it. Nobody who noticed asked particularly about it.

Children ponder, reflect, and imagine a lot more than one can ever believe or comprehend.

When Pooja alighted the bus, her face had turned pale. Her mother immediately guessed it. While there was not much that Pooja’s mother asked about it on the way back and up until the dinner, Pooja’s fidgeting and lack of focus sent signals to everybody at home. Pooja’s mother waited till it was just the two of them on the terrace; she sweetly coaxed and cajoled her to open up. She continued her story from the previous night as the two walked from one corner to the other, hand in hand. Pooja’s mother could not lead Pooja to disseminate more information than a standalone statement that Pooja did not want to be a part of the dance that her teacher had selected her for. Without much knowledge at hand and the little Pooja in a slightly passive mood, she encouraged Pooja to be open and talk to Radha Ma’am about it the next day. In the morning too, as she fed her darling daughter, Pooja’s mother reminded Pooja how Radha Ma’am had always been very supportive of suggestions from the kids. She emphasized that Pooja should be honest why she wouldn’t want to be in the dance just so Radha Ma’am could help her out. She kissed Pooja. Her mother’s words managed to bring a faint smile and reduced stress on her face.

When Pooja revealed to her teacher, very honestly, that she did not want to be a part of the dance, Radha Ma’am wasn’t sure why. No words passed between them for a couple of minutes. Not the one to resign so soon, she probed further.

“Any reason, dear?”

“Oh, none, Ma’am.” Pooja’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“Nothing,” could not be a plausible option.

“I envisaged you doing a brilliant job, dressed up as a beautiful Kashmiri, describing the jewel of India in a poetic manner and adding value to the rare and heavenly prettiness that the place is known for.”

Pooja remained silent.

When she couldn’t hold it anymore, she remembered her mother’s words. She had to be honest.

“Ma’am, it is my color. I do not think I am as fair and beautiful as a Kashmiri woman is. I am dark. I am not tall either. If I ever dress up like a Kashmiri, which I concede that I so wish to do, I would have to cake my face with a lot of powder. It would look extremely artificial. Nothing like the amazing Kashmir state at all. Not one bit. Furthermore, it would not be the “real me.” What if someone laughed?

Pooja completed her answer as quickly as she could. She was embarrassed as well as felt awkward. The devil of inhibition had sought a safe place in her mind. It was reluctant to leave, it seemed.

Radha Madam listened patiently. On the one hand, she was pleased that her student wanted to be an original. That Pooja was so honest about her feelings and fears impressed Radha teacher. On the other hand, scary thoughts clouded the teacher’s mind. She could easily choose to pass on the role to someone else. Pooja would be happy. Nobody would bother much. No further ado- job done!

However, Radha teacher chose the other option. If she did not combat the insecurities and discrimination that revolved around elements, like color, cultural background, religion, it would progress to become painfully difficult to deal with much later in Pooja’s life. Wouldn’t that result in character flaws? Isn’t this exact behavior that produces under confident individuals if not treated wisely at the right time? If Pooja felt bad about how she looked and associated it with something seriously inferior, the ideas and reactions would proliferate effortlessly leading her to influence it upon others too. Her people skills would be devastated!!!

“It is all in the mind.” Radha teacher mumbled to herself.

“Sure, Pooja. Let us talk about something else.”

“Okay, Ma’am.” Pooja was pleased that her answer somehow convinced her teacher.

“So, Pooja, what do you like the best about this green space?” Radha teacher admitted she was curious.

“Oh, the large variety of flowers. They are so pretty and soothing.”

“Ahh, me too, Pooja. Which flower is your favorite, Pooja? “

“There, the yellow ones.” Pooja pointed at the yellow roses.

“Oh, nice. I like the red ones better. Red is bright, loud, captivating!”

Radha Ma’am continued, “Which is better in your opinion, Pooja?”

“Red ones are nice. But the yellow ones are equally wonderful. They might not be as loud; however, they are unique in their own sense Ma’am. Every time I look at a yellow flower it instantly makes me happy.”

“Hmm, I see. So, you would love a space full of only yellow flowers I am sure.”

“Not at all, Ma’am. That would be boring. It is nice to have them all – Red, yellow, pink, orange and all.”

Radha teacher acknowledged it and also giggled at how Pooja added humor to the conversation by calling them boring without diversity.

Radha teacher yet again murmured within herself. “It is indeed all in the mind. We all have the answers. We just need a way to find them.”

“I love your descriptions, Pooja. The other day, during the Parents Teachers Association Meeting, Neha too told me about your “Tour guide” role that you played during one of the joint family vacations."

“Oops! She told you, Ma’am. I did not expect.”

“Oh do not worry. She and her parents meant a great amount of gratitude to you and your family. They explained that you all bond well and you make them feel like home here in Bengaluru.”

“Yes, Ma’am. They are very nice people too. So kind and helpful; so appreciative of everything about the place they live in. I am waiting eagerly to go visit Kashmir in the following year after the exams."

Radha teacher breathed a sigh of relief. Pooja had done half the job already.

“So, Pooja. Just think about it. Aren’t you and Neha like the red and yellow flowers?”

Pooja did not understand it.

“Pooja, just like you told me about how red and yellow flowers are beautiful yet different – we humans too are similar yet different. If we were all the same life would be so “boring”. Beauty lies in coexisting and adding value to one another. True prettiness is all about embracing each other and empowering one another.”

Pooja leaned forward and continued to listen patiently.

“I absolutely adore how you and Neha, at twelve years of age, seem so accepting of each other’s ways, cultures, and lifestyle. What if Neha forever remained reticent ignoring what was around her in the name of missing the comfort of her old life and old place?”

“Neha chose to also include Bengaluru, a new place, a new experience into her old system. She did not have give up any part of her original self. She blended without compromise. She could have felt fearful that she would be treated as an outcast but her positive attitude brought into her life lovely people like you and your family."

“Look at you, my dear, Pooja! You had a platform to merely develop relationships with those who looked like you, spoke like you, and shared commonalities with you. Nay! You decided on shedding constraints like a winner and made Neha’s life beautiful.”

By now Pooja‘s heart swelled with joy to be talking with a person like Radha teacher. She internally thanked her mom who advised her to be honest with Radha Ma’am and trust her.

“Pooja, now or in the future, wherever you are, remember that color, caste, religion, nationality, etc are all creations of convenience by humans. They are interesting and nice but do not deserve a place for judgment or feeling of superiority or inferiority. Be it the physical looks or even the potential and abilities of a person, comparisons are odious. We are all different. We are all special."

“Ma’am, what is the meaning of odious?” Pooja ensured she did not miss one word from the morals being shared.

Radha Ma’am elaborated further with a content smile.

“Pooja, would you please be a part of my dance and represent the state of Kashmir?”

“Yesss, Ma’am. I can’t wait at all Ma’am. Thank you so much. I am so happy you spoke to me. I feel better and lighter. I want to dress up like a Kashmiri. I want to read about the place. I want to celebrate it as if like a tribute to my best friend that Kashmir gifted me.”

“Ahh, my darling. God bless you. Let us surprise Neha by offering her the role of representing the state of Karnataka.”

Pooja was super thrilled at the idea. Radha Ma’am was indeed the best, she thought.

One decade later, Pooja traveled to many countries on work and later on, for her studies. She let scores of men and women on cross-cultural projects.

The life lesson that she took away from a small anecdote involving her teacher made a world of difference. Her manner of treating people and herself with respect, her competence in learning and unlearning continuously to survive even the most difficult phases and personally challenging phases enhanced her personality with each passing day. She never allowed limitations of any format and proportion to decide her choices. The foundation of a school and a teacher had served the purpose in a rather impactful way. Being different did not mean one should back out; being different is all about extra charm.