I am a true blue sapphire

I am a true blue Sapphire!

It was six hours left for the party. Neelam was getting ready to attend her alumni night. Tonight she wanted to shine like never before. Neelam’s first novel had got published and her alma mater had specially invited her for an author visit session before the party. Neelam inched closer to the dresser and considered herself in the mirror. She was a dainty woman with an oblong face and a prominent forehead just like her father’s. Her high cheekbones and pointy chin gave her a very striking writer’s look, she thought and smiled mildly. Neelam wanted to seize her night. She had waited so long to taste her first success. She decided to highlight her facial lineaments with some make-up. She forced a little grin to locate the apples of her cheeks and applied the plum rouge with perfect short strokes of the blush brush. She squinted for a brief moment before outlining her almond eyes with a glide of her new matte blue eyeliner she had bought just for this occasion. It made her eyes sparkle like two small solitaires jutted in an exquisite jewelry box. Pleased with her makeup Neelam walked towards her three-cornered closet. She pulled out the cerulean blue gown she had carefully chosen for this evening. She slipped into the garment effortlessly and turned to the closet door mirror .She was looking tall and radiant but something still felt amiss. Those gnawing thoughts had started to consume her again.She had battled them so hard while penning them down in her book. She leaned against the doorjamb to fight them before they could engulf her. Her school friend Anna, had called in the morning .She had blurted that Mr. Viv was also joining them tonight. Neelam felt a thud in her heart. Suddenly it all came back to her in a flash and dampened her effervescent spirit and for just that minute she regretted writing that book.

                                     It happened some twenty years ago .It was her ninth birthday that day. Mr. Viv had called her on the stage for the birthday song. She jostled up the stairs brimming with happy thoughts in her pink dress which her mother had stitched for her birthday and took the centre stage. But suddenly she became self-conscious .She squirmed as hundreds of pairs of eyes gawked at her shoes. She had stumbled while climbing up the steps of the stage and her right shoe had snapped open. She had fastened her school shoes with safety pins today. They were a worn out pair with broken buckles but those were the only shoes she had. Mr. Viv looked at her ill matched gaping shoes and smirked. He looked at her with ridiculing eyes and asked her to turn around but it was as if little Neelam had sniffed Mr. Viv’s foul intentions. A very clear voice inside her head told her to defy her teacher and stand steady. The voice also told her that not all teachers were her guides and well-wishers – few of them could be malicious just like her class teacher Mr. Viv. Mr. Viv commanded her again but with her new realization Neelam stood stubbornly with her back to the crowd. She tried to stifle her tears and the flush of embarrassment which rose to her pudgy cheeks. Her public defiance irked Mr. Viv .He caught her by the shoulder and turned her around exposing her shoes and red face to the full assembly. That moment the same solid voice told her another fact of life: children are not always innocent- as she saw most of her fast friends laughing freely at her poverty.   

Her father had promised to get her new shoes next week .But it was too late. Now no new shoes could redeem her. Mr. Viv was smiling the cruelest smile Neelam would see as a child. Neelam’s flushed face emboldened Mr. Viv. He pointed at her pink skirt which was frayed at the hemline. She wished he wouldn’t notice the patch on her shirt but he did.Mr. Viv rejoiced in his power today. He went on the mike and said in his throaty voice, ‘Look at our dear little birthday girl –so pretty in pale pink. Birthday girl ,can you please explain why you look like a little shaggy cat on your birthday, why, why?’ and his ‘whys’ were so loud that they reverberated in the hall and Neelam’s mind for many days to come. The voice in her head told Neelam to look straight into her teacher’s eyes. Neelam peeked into Mr. Viv’s eyes to think of the most meaningful answer she could give to her mean teacher. She had never thought as coherently as she did in those two minutes. She saw a glint of green in his eyes, some shade of juvenile envy. He was envious of a child - envious of her composure, her competence and her demeanors. He saw in her the potential and the merits he could never muster- neither as a child nor as an adult. His rancor was an evidence of his failure at life. Yes- that was the reason he was humiliating her in public. A thirty year old frustrated teacher was jealous of a nine years old brilliant child. It was horrible yet possible. He had taunted her for being too smart and smug in the class on various occasions. He had pulled her up for her brilliant answers in the past too. He was tormented by the fact that she outsmarted him in every class. He found her unbearable and himself unworthy. In these two thoughtful minutes Neelam had decoded his malice. It was as if Mr. Viv read her disparaging thoughts as his face turned both red and green in the same moment. He shrugged her back while she choked with hatred and tears. He nudged her to the mike and asked her to recite the school prayer. Broken words came out of her trembling mouth. Each word felt heavy, required so much of effort to spell out .She felt deeply humiliated .She felt dizzy as if the stage had started spinning. She puked at the stage and the stench filled the hall. She dashed to the playground and sobbed relentlessly. The bell rang thrice in next three hours and the school got over. Neelam felt too enervated to pick herself up and start for home.

The tick of the curling wand snapped Neelam out of her past. Neelam had wanted lazy curls for this evening but Anna’s phone call changed her mind and mood. She gazed at the clock. It was five hours left now. Neelam was torn between thoughts –whether she should go tonight and face her past or avoid it as she had already dealt with it. She had convinced herself that the things she had written in her book had nothing to do with Mr Viv.She was so over that nasty incident now. It did not affect anything in her life except a rare twinge in her stomach whenever she thought about it. She believed that she got over it even before she turned a teenager. She felt proud of how she handled her fragility and how she did not allow Mr. Viv’s misdeed to mar her spirits. She never considered confiding in anyone –she rationalized that it would stir too much drama. She had a strong mind but in some feeble corner of it lurked the mother of all fears, ‘the fear of others’ –that others would pity her and look at her differently as if she was not one among them .That was the last thing Neelam wanted .Not that she was the kind to strive too hard to fit in but she did not want to stick out for this once. This made her feel strong and shallow at the same time. She took a minute to think about her perpetrator -somehow she felt convinced that Mr. Viv wouldn’t have changed. How could his type change? You are either a pedophile or you are not.

                     Her mind wandered to her past again. That bad day while little Neelam was sobbing Mr. Viv. Came to her .Neelam’s second thought was to storm out of the playground but her legs betrayed her. She kept her head down trying to bury her first thought which was to punch Mr Viv real hard. Mr. Viv sat on the medal podium and beckoned her. She did not respond. She did not feel obliged to respect a malicious teacher. This enraged Mr. Viv and he howled, ‘didn’t you listen little brat!’ Little Neelam was about to discover her two exceptional qualities in the next moment: resilience and dry humor - both of these she would soon lose only to regain them much later in life. She giggled incongruously and retorted, ‘Listen? But you didn’t say anything, you beckoned Sir!’ The twist of her tongue to emphasize on the last two words threw Mr. Viv in a fit of rage, ‘you little over smart girl with big words and mouth!’ He lifted her up. This gesture befuddled little Neelam. She started wailing like a wolf. Mr. Viv tried stifling her cries by covering up her mouth. He held her tight to control her but little Neelam kept wailing. Then he did something weird .He sat her on his lap .He started with a peck and wandered where he shouldn’t. This baffled little Neelam. While she felt better sitting on his lap her little mind did question the placement of Mr. Viv’s hands. Back then she couldn’t name the vague feeling but few years later she figured out. She also figured out that she could have turned around and slapped the sleazy Mr. Viv that day only if someone would have taught her that it was a bad touch. This recollection made her stomach sick and she rushed to the washroom to flush out her repulsion.

                                                                            Four hours were left now for the party .At the tender age of eleven Neelam had resolved that what Mr. Viv did to her would not scar her though she did notice that it had already affected her in some ways. She felt she was as entitled to a normal childhood as any other child. At that time she did not know the power of her own mind .She did not know that one resolution made as a child could lock away all her bad memories and trauma. But today she felt conflicted between revenge and impunity. Confronting Mr Viv meant reliving the experience, the trauma she had so meticulously buried deep down in her mind .She felt fuzzy.Whether she should let go of the past and live her beautiful present or confront her past which had healed with time and grit .What if Mr Viv had read the novel.What if he could see some resemblance between him and the character in her novel. She did not think much about it while writing.She had braved all her pangs of pain to think lucidly and write vividly for her maiden work. She was an honest writer. The thought gave her some courage.

                                                                        Clock ticked. Three hours were left now. She fixed herself a latte and dragged her ottoman by the French window of her living room. Tabby, her pet cat ran to be by her side. Tabby was very cranky today and kept frolicking around her. Neelam stroked Tabby’s belly while stirring her coffee. She looked at the carefree cat –all its actions were so spontaneous, without any thought. It struck Neelam that some things in life do not need deliberation .If you are incensed you would instinctively know what to do. You cannot arouse indignation .But Neelam knew that life and mind both were complex creatures –none of them played by the rules, so she decided to think and think fast.

                                            Her parents had named her Neelam after the sparkling blue stone of power, wisdom and intuition, ‘Sapphire’: one which benedicts not only the bearer but everyone around it. That day when Neelam’s school ordeal was over she rode back home on her old and rusted bicycle. It was a strenuous ride. By the time she reached home, she was gasping for air. Her father was at home. For a minute Neelam blamed her father and his poverty for all her anguishes-her broken shoes, her broken bicycle and her broken heart. She blamed her mother for making her wear a rag for birthday dress. But when her parents sat by her bedside and ruffled her hair her heart melted. She rattled half of the her story to them while carefully hiding the other more critical half .Her father became quiet for few minutes. He was thinking of the most genuine advice to give to his precious girl-not one to assuage her that day but one to empower her for life. Her father began, “I commend your patience as a child Neelu and apologize for our inability to give you the best things. But I can give you the best advice. Never let anyone dull your sparkle. In you I see fire, I see real sapphire: a vocal, clear, strong, resilient and wise woman. Only a little girl who can face a crowd today can stand up to the world tomorrow. Always remember you are your name: your father’s blue sapphire. You are most precious to us.” Her father’s kind words warmed the cockles of her little heart. She saw how different this man was from the one she had faced hours back. She rested on her father’s lap and stayed in bed for the next two days. Her father tended to her emotional wounds. Little Neelam started to forget the pain and the horror. She was after all a child full of life and hopes. She healed quickly and bounced back to life. On third day when she got ready for school she kissed her father goodbye .Her father peeped into her eyes and asked playfully: ‘So how blue is my sapphire today?’ ‘Blue,deep blue’ answered little Neelam embracing her father.

           The clock ticked again .Two hours were left now.Neelam felt a little ashamed. She felt she was far more courageous as a child -that age had gnawed away at her confidence and conviction. No! She was her father’s daughter -she would not let anyone dim her sparkle .She was a SAPPHIRE! She started thinking as coherently as she did that day when she looked into Mr. Viv’s eyes for the best answer. She knew there was nothing to feel ashamed of. It was time that the perpetrator be punished and not the victim. She would stand up for her dignity else she would never be able to impart the lessons of moral courage to her children with the conviction with which her parents did. She was a deeply introspective woman. She knew taking Mr. Viv head on was easier than years of brooding and remorse.

      The tick tock of the clock said it was about time. She went back to where she had started her arduous mental journey –her dresser .She coiffured her hair and straightened her dress. She gave a hard look in the mirror. She saw a woman with scintillating looks and a strong mind. Her bangs fringed her broad forehead and made her look younger than her age. The sheer dress she had worn lent her an enviable elegance. She donned her blue sapphire ring to complete her look .It dazzled in the dim light. This sparkling sapphire ring was her father’s only gift to her in his lifetime. She decided to slip on her intimidating heels as she was ready to take on her past and Mr. Viv now. While fastening the sturdy snazzy buckle of her expensive shoes she vocalized her last thought -‘All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.’.Today she wanted her father to peek from heaven and ask ,‘How blue is my sapphire!True blue,true blue’ she would exclaim. She looked up at the clock, the cuckoo had come out of the chalet again. Now it was her time!