Your hat’s not going anywhere !

It was Independence Day and we were all ready to play our part in the school celebrations. It was my first year in this school; we moved schools every few years due to my dad’s work transfer to different cities. I was all excited to portray Bhagat Singh in the Independence Day rally. My Sir had given me a few lines in Kannada that I was supposed to say as the character Bhagat Singh. He also gave me a hat, borrowed from one of the esteemed board members, that resembled the one Bhagat Singh used to wear. The previous day, I had spent all evening in front of the mirror in my room, wearing the cap and shouting those lines of Bhagat Singh. I was looking forward to the next day. The next day, I reach school, all dressed up as Bhagat Singh, with the moustache drawn beautifully with “kajal” and the hat to wear. All of us students, dressed up as different freedom fighters were supposed to hop onto a tractor and while the tractor does rounds we were supposed to play our part and shout slogans in sequence. The rally was to begin in a few minutes and a teacher comes up to me and pulls the hat out of my head. “Who gave you this ?” she said. I was taken aback and told her that Sir had given it to me and asked me to come dressed as Bhagat Singh. She scolded me and said that it was not meant for me and walked away. In the distance I could hear her telling Sir, “We have our Bhagat Singh ready and you gave this hat to some boy, what Sir”. I don’t know how to describe that emotion which I so vividly remember. ‘Some boy !!’. This ‘some boy’, in all excitement had rehearsed and rehearsed those 2 lines and couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror as Bhagat Singh and could barely sleep the previous night in all the excitement. I did not cry, I did not sulk. I got on the tractor with everyone else, stood with them as an extra, with my face still donning a moustache of Bhagat Singh, but no hat. I shouted slogans with others, laughed with everyone and had a wondeful time. But deep down I was hurt. Losing the hat that day was like losing my dignity. And this feeling stayed with me for a long time.
Cut to four years later and I am on the stage of the city townhall, dressed up as a beast and soaking in the appreciation and astounding cheering from a large audience for my act. Over those four years I had been a part of quite a few activities ranging from skits, to plays, to music and debates. I had won the appreciation of all the teachers, including the one who had called me ‘some boy’ and had taken my hat away. I am sure she didn’t even realize the impact that she had on me because of what she did. It wasn’t deliberate and it was for me to deal with. On this magical evening, we were a part of the play “Beauty and the Beast” and I was playing the lead role of the Beast. At the end of the show, I stood there alone as each member walked off the stage one by one, leaving me for the end. The claps were deafening and amidst the standing ovation, I stood with my hands folded. My voice was already cracked due to all the screaming I had to do as the beast, and with all this admiration I was further choking over my remaining voice, barely managing to say “Thank you” over the mic. I remember, at that moment, Bhagat Singh and the hat came rushing to my mind. I was too young to understand gratitude, and sometimes language cannot capture the emotions we feel. It felt like I had closure. My hat had not gone anywhere. It was mine to be. I just had to keep at it and not lose faith.