Read Online Motherland by Vineeta Vijayaraghavan - Free Book Online Page A

used to dance also, Maya,” Aruna auntie said.
    â€œYes, Maya studied with guru Padmanabhan near her grandmother’s house for five summers in a row,” Reema auntie said.
    â€œYou’re lucky to have studied with Padmanabhan, he’s one of our best,” Aruna auntie said. “Will you be having an arangetram, then?” An arangetram was a graduation ceremony to exhibit a certain level of mastery in dance.
    â€œWe all hoped she would,” Reema auntie said, “Her mother even found her an instructor in New York to supplement Padmanabhan’s instruction. But Maya wanted to stop dancing a few years ago.”
    â€œI didn’t have time because I had other activities,” I said.
    â€œActivities? What activities?” Aruna auntie said.
    I told her that I wrote for the school newspaper and I did babysitting and I was on the swim team.
    â€œBut this is part of your culture, “Aruna auntie said. “You should at least keep up practicing what you had learned.”
    â€œI really don’t remember much,” I said. I liked dancing when I first started and it was about counting out the beats and learning the steps, the intricate footwork, the poses on bended knee. Then my teacher began telling me the best dancing was not athletic, it was expressive. But expressive of what? I had never felt tied to the meaning, I couldn’t make my face express things I wasn’t feeling. I knew the stories the dances told, about gods and ancient legends, my grandmother had taught them to me, but Kali and Rama had lost their relevance to my present life, they were as remote as Peter Pan and his shadow.
    â€œAruna auntie, do the Naga pose again. I want to copy you,” Brindha said, standing behind Aruna auntie.
    Aruna auntie gathered herself upon one leg, narrowing her eyes to those of a serpent god, and using her arms to create a large ominous hood over herself. Brindha imitated her, drawing her mouth small and mean. But she lost her balance after a couple of seconds and collapsed giggling to the floor.
    â€œI’m going to do that at school the next time the girls say something rude. It looks scary enough they might think I’ve put a curse on them,” she said.
    â€œBrindha, don’t say such things,” Reema auntie said, tucking Brindha’s hair back into some kind of order. “You have to start out the school year thinking positively.”
    â€œSpeaking of school, I took the children to temple on their first day of school last week, and we still have some prasadam. Let me bring it for you,” Aruna auntie said.
    â€œWe probably should have gone today, too,” Reema auntie said.
    â€œThere’s a Vishnu temple not far from here, if you want to go now,” Aruna auntie said, unfolding a banana leaf tied up in string. Inside was a sweet sticky crush of sugar and raisins and lentils. She put some in my hand ("right hand, right hand,” she murmured when I unthinkingly extended my left) and then in Brindha’s and Reema auntie’s. Aruna auntie herself had a bit, then licked the last of the stickiness from her palm.
    â€œI don’t think we have time,” Reema auntie said. “We’re making the drive back tonight, so I don’t want it to get late.”
    â€œShall I give you some tea in a thermos or are you stopping again?” Aruna auntie asked.
    â€œWe are stopping for tea in Ooty, so Brindha can change into her uniform there. But thank you,” Reema auntie said.
    We got back in the car and Reema auntie sat in the front with the driver so Brindha and I could lie down together in the back and sleep for awhile to make the time go faster.
    When I sat up again and looked out, everything was green and lush. We’d already gone through the first set of hairpin bends climbing Ooty, my aunt said. And while this summit was higher than the one we lived on, the roads were not carved as steeply or as narrowly. Also, it