THE SPANISH DANCE

I remember reading this little story, many years ago. It was in Shiv Khera’s famous book: ‘YOU CAN WIN’.

A man had a dog with an unusually special gift: he could run over water! Now, what a special gift that was, in deed! This man, obviously, felt proud about his gifted dog… and many, many people complimented him on it. He, undoubtedly, felt good about it.

Then, one day, this man happened to meet an old, dear friend. He wanted to show this friend the special talent of his dog and took him along for hunting. They went to the countryside. There, he proudly demonstrated to his friend the unique talent of his dog. Every time he shot down a bird from the sky, the gifted dog, like a missile, would speed over the water, and fetch back the bird to his master. It happened repeatedly.

“Did you see, my friend?” the man asked with immense pride.

“Yes, I did?” replied the friend.

“What did you see?” the man wanted to be reassured.

“That, your dog can not swim!”

Last night, I proudly showed a dear, dear friend one of my favorite posts: “Mountains Fascinate me…” Many had complimented me on it. Nanu, my dear student, went mad over it; Girish, my real good well-wisher, was fascinated by it. Pooja, who is a respected CA, author and Trainer… felt so good after reading it, that she earnestly requested me to permit her to use it as a Status on her Face book. So, I, obviously, felt proud of my ‘special dog’… my special post!

“Did you like it, my friend?” My heart couldn’t wait. “Tell me something nice… as others did.”

“Ha-ha! It is ‘intimidated’… and you have written ‘intimated’…” this person reacted quite bluntly. “A hundred people must’ve already noted this ‘silly blunder’… It reflects badly on you!”

I became numb!

The rest of the discussion was only for namesake. I felt very bad, very low, last night.

“Now, come on… Your are the one who keeps motivating us… Be a sport, buddy… Learn to take criticisms in your stride… After all, not many point to us our flaws… If you wish to grow, learn to handle brickbats… Filter them - accept the good, drop the bad…” Yes, I went through all these dialogues in my mind in a swift succession… and, I got over it.

Then, I asked in succession these too: Why do I write, every day? And, why have I been doing it for the last thirty-three years? Why on every bit of scrap that came my way? Why on every diary, every old envelope?… Why, now, on this blog? What is my motivation, my need, my intention…? Am I dying to win the ‘Sahitya Academy Award’? Or a ‘Booker’?

My mind went back to my days in Mangalore. My local school where we stood under the massive banyan tree and blissfully p..d! The trees were our toilets! That was till my 5^th standard. Then, I moved to a big school and got lost there, all the while comparing myself with others… My medium was Kannada and my mother tongue was Konkani. English was a dreaded ghost… It began to haunt me as I became aware of my body and mind. By the time I was in College, I carried with me the heavy stone of Inferiority Complex. I began to skip social events, even the Mass on Sundays… and all those village weddings.

Any one knows this?

My mom and dad loved me.

But, they were unable to understand

this inner world of their son.

And, even if they could, perhaps,

I had no wisdom, then,

that I had to open up before someone…

and seek help.

I only suffered. Day in and day out. But, one thing marvelous happened: I resolved, then and there – even in the midst of my nagging low phase – that I would not allow this ‘handicap’ called ‘English’ to cripple me for life…

Today, when I look back at my life, I realize that - whatever I have done till today – and am still doing, even at this very moment – has come from this silent resolve. That, I wouldn’t allow my language to stop me from expressing who I am… That, I will turn my handicaps into my blessings. I teach. I write. I train. Yes, all in English… In ‘my’ English… and not the British… Not the Yankee… and, my friend… I do a lot of mistakes, some silly, some innocent… and some huge ones!

What the heck, my buddy! I still ask my students: “Tell me, How you spell this… How you pronounce this… What does this word mean?” And, let me tell you, with all my pride and pleasure this: They feel ‘thrilled’ to help me out… No, I can bet all my bucks on it: They would never feel: “What a dumb man our sir is!”

Thank you, all my young teachers!

My dear friend could not see all the sublime things in that Post which my other dear ones could. He could only see ‘intimated’… in the place of ‘intimidated’. He could only see my ‘blunder’. That, the special gift my dog was blessed with – it could run like a rocket over water – he was blind to it. It could not swim… was what his heart could see. He was also blind to one more thing: how I felt when he said what he did!

Saturday night was special. My cousin’s son Ranjeet got married to beautiful Lisa; the wedding reception filled me with tremendous amount of joy. The couple danced to the first song. It was the old country number of John Denver - ‘Annie’s Song’:

You fill up my senses
Like a night in the forest
Like the mountains in springtime
Like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert
Like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again

Come let me love you
Let me give my life to you
Let me drown in your laughter
Let me die in your arms
Let me lay down beside you
Let me always be with you
Come let me love you
Come love me again

Let me give my life to you
Come let me love you
Come love me again

I learnt that it was Ranjeet’s choice. He would love to hear that it would have been my choice too… It is so sublime… so full of love. Liza was singing along as the shy Ranjeet held her and danced, his eyes soaked into her.

Then, the DJ played this last Spanish song. My cousin, Arthur’s gorgeous daughter Sydel danced with the brilliant Master of Ceremony. And, this young girl stole our hearts! Those were not easy steps… They needed perfection, a lot of practice and passion… And when Sydel danced, I watched her with sheer delight. It was a treat for all of us, that late evening, who stood there, beheld, around the dance floor… with our eyes and hearts all glued.

When the song ended, Sandra, Sydel’s lovely mom, jumped into the middle and embraced her young blood with a cry that went straight into the night’s silent sky: “Baby, I love you!”

My heart stopped!

“Who helped whom that night?” I asked in my heart as the dance kept coming back to me that night. Was it Sandra, the mother, that helped Sydel? Or, “Was it Sydel, the daughter?”

After many, many years of this roller-coaster ride called - ‘My journey towards a healthy self-esteem’, I can tell this with some kind of authority:

When snow falls, it doesn’t hurt even a fragile leaf;

But, when thunder strikes, even a vulture flees.

There was snow-fall on Saturday night; there was thunder on the one gone by.

GERALD D’CUNHA

P.S. Dear, you may come across many ‘intimates’ in this Post. But, please love me. It helps!

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