Serendipity

One just expected a simple outing when our neighbour Ms K invited us to accompany her to her 4-year-old’s school day function. One drove down to the venue. The hall was an impressive one; decorations made in keeping with sensibilities of tiny tots, and succeeding too — rows of balloons hung and a teddy-bear posted at the entrance to shake hands with visitors.

We walked in and occupied back seats. Kiddos had already taken to performing and zestful parents keen on capturing their offspring’s ‘Kodak moments’ with cameras stood tall and bouncing, blocking our view. I suggested that my mom and Ms K shift to the front row as I thought it imperative that Ms K see her son perform.

The hall was teeming with people and I have a bit of an issue (I walk using crutches) and stoically opted to remain where I was; alone. Ms K would hear none of it, ‘We’ve come together and will stay together’, she said. Then taking my arm with firm gentle affection escorted me to the front row, getting folks to make way for me. Then we sat side by side.
Music commenced and the little ones danced to the inescapable bollywood film music (with the exception of Shakira’s ‘Waka Waka’).

Among others, the commercial hit number, ‘Bacchana ay Haseeno’ was played and children in jazzy costumes and shades were expected to jive to it. Ms K, much amused, remarked, “What a choice of song to play, really! To think that these babies wouldn’t even know the meaning of ‘Haseena’...!”

The general ambience took me back to my own nursery school days where annual day functions used to be an assortment of traditional music, folklore, rhymes, fairy tales, mythology and national integration. There was an attempt to cocoon children from the ‘adult world.’ Playing film music in such situations, though, would have been considered a taboo, in fact a near profanity. Times have changed and how! (I am aware that this remark amalgamated with nostalgia must be making me sound doddering old!)

Anyway, this venture too was a great success. We collected our little guy from backstage. A much distraught Ms K fretted, “He didn’t come on stage when his turn arrived. Apparently, he had dozed off!” Nevertheless, watching the smiling cheery child in his attractive red costume embedded with mirrors was such a great reward. “Bade bado ke saath hota hai, didi,” I reassured, “In fact, one of our former PMs was a routine snoozer at meetings, remember?”

On our way back home, Ms K bought me the most beautiful string of beads and said she had found a true friend in me. The words, spoken in a simple manner, rang pure and genuine. Much touched, I kissed the necklace and murmured a thank you.

I had gone to see what I thought would be a simple annual day function and ended up finding a soul sister. I guess, this is what they call serendipity.