Anita looked out of the window. Dawn was about to break into a new day. The short spring that breezed thru Bangalore was mid-way, with the jacarandas and cotton flowers painting the town in lovely shades of pink & yellow.

The window in her room was one of her favourite places in the house. She enjoyed watching the world go by.

But this morning felt different. This was the last day of her college exams. She had already had a couple of interviews lined up. The familiar life of teachers and assignments would be done today. The smell of adult life along with its responsibilities already lingered in the air.

Just then she heard footsteps approaching. She knew it was Appa (father), who was always up early and heading towards her room, with a small cup of coffee, although he knew Anita wasn’t a coffee drinker.

She smiled and usually looked forward to the brief early morning conversation alone with him.

Today, Appa, seemed to have already read her mind while he handed her the coffee cup.

After a minute, he suddenly smiled and asked her if she remembered, how eager she was to begin school?

He continued – “Imagine a 4-year-old insisting on joining school. But…” he hesitated and his smile grew bigger.

Anita now remembered the incident clearly. She was taken back that time when she was a little shy of 4 years.

Appa was recently transferred into this town which was located in the Telugu speaking heartland. They were just settling down and she did not speak or understand that language, thereby had no friends.

But, over the last few days, as she had stood by the window every morning and watched- a steady stream kids had marched down along the road in front of her window.

Well-oiled pig tailed or a combed down hair, sometimes with a sibling, sometimes on cycle and sometimes as a bunch of kids on a mission, the steady stream of kids every morning had been welcome sight to her

As Appa shaved by the window, Anita had asked all about these kids. He had told her fascinating stories about the place that they were headed to. I was called a “School”

The next day, she had marched down along with her parents to meet a nice-looking lady called the headmistress. There were kids everywhere and it had looked like a lot of fun.

Her parents had gone over and picked up new uniform and shoes and she was looking forward to joining in the fun from next Monday.  

The first day had felt extremely exciting as Amma had helped her into her new uniform and those black shiny shoes. She had happily marched off into the school. Amma had followed her up right until her school corridors.

Suddenly, a burly looking woman had appeared and offered to take Anita to her class. Amma was not joining in and this scary looking lady did not look friendly or playful!!

All hell broke loose, as Anita had tried to wrestle her way out from the scary looking at the women attendant in the school and tried to call out to her mother and escape what suddenly looked like a scary place. After a brief tug-off war, she had bitten the attendant’s hand and ran away crying.

Just then, a kind looking bespectacled teacher had appeared and at the school corridor. She had given her a kind hug and led her back into the classroom.

Appa’s quiet nudge bought her back to the present. She was back in her room looking at the window as it was still dark before the daybreak with the coffee slowly going cold in her hand.

Appa continued to smile and said, “Drink up your coffee, everything will be alright, just don’t bite the security guard’s hand this time, your boss may not be that kind like your kindergarten teacher”

After a moment of silently sharing the almost cold coffee, Appa, continued – “Everything is always scary in the beginning, but the that is also what makes everything exciting. You learn only when you move ahead despite the fear. I know you will do well. Remember one step at a time.”    

As she continued to remember the confident four year that marched on into new world – fought with the change but soon found joy that the new things had bought, Anita, felt lighter about everything that was changing around her.

As she continued to look outside, the sun finally showed up outside her window, promising her a bright new day which was all up to her to make it her own.

This tall tale is part fiction inspired by real conversations with my father.

Do you have a person who gets you even before you talk, let me know!