COMPULSORY ENGLISH ASSIGNMENT 2

Sequel to 'The Guide" from Rosie's point of view as she begins to live life
on her own terms.

Distant screaming hit my ears, that of a child. I ran towards the source of the sound, it came
from a house right next to the temple I was so familiar with. A pair of anklets were thrown
out of the arched, wooden doorway; followed by a small Natraja idol. A little girl, bruised
and crying, reached out for me. I extended my hand but she kept going further away,
everything turned hazy.

"Rosie?" a soft voice beside my bed woke me up. "You're up early today. Happy birthday
Nalini!" I greeted her. Her eyes were still puffy from sleep and her long, curly hair was a
mess. The fresh morning sunlight washed her in a golden glow, I looked at her in a new light
today. It was not that I hadn't noticed her growing up over the past five years, but today it hit
me that she had grown as a person, and I had grown with her. It had been four years since I
left everything behind to pursue my aspirations and live independently, yet it felt like a
lifetime ago. I started preparing myself for a day full of activities for Nalini's fifteenth
birthday. As I put on my favourite flowy red skirt, I couldn't help but think about how this
outfit would get disapproving glances from everyone back home. The traditional dancing
outfit for a day of celebration? Blasphemy. I picked out a new dress for her, too. "Can I ask
you something?" she asked me sheepishly. Nodding, I knew precisely what was coming my
way. "How was life back in Malgudi?" she knew I couldn't dodge the question like I did
every time.

I walked towards the kitchen, she tailed behind me. Cutting up some fruit, I found myself
inexorably transported back to my little village. In my childhood, dancing at the temple with
my mother and friends seemed to be the best thing to do. I loved dressing up and practicing
for my performances. Not a day went by when I didn't fantasize about my future as the best
and most revered dancer not just in Malgudi but in the world. However, as I grew older I
realised what I considered art and devotion was frowned upon by society. The women from
my community commanded no respect and were considered "public women". Nevertheless, I
continued striving my best to perfect my dance, I bought for myself a little but intricately
beautiful statue of Nataraja, God of dancing that I never parted with, burnt incense, devoted a
lot of my time to studying the classical compositions about my art. I made sure to exude a
pure and sacred energy when I danced, yet I failed at changing everyone's mind. I decided I
would continue with higher studies and join college. Still, to my then mature understanding,
it became abundantly clear that no measure of education would get me a noble societal status
and esteem. I am not necessarily pleased by this, but I had begun to consider marriage given
that it would help uplift me and my standing, it would help me continue my passion for
dancing without judgment. So the advertisement I saw in the newspaper for a rich man
seeking a wife, the 'caste no bar' mentioned therein seemed magically custom-made for me.

I put Nalini's lunchbox in her school bag and slipped in a special treat for her, too. "What was
his name?" asked Nalini, breaking my chain of thought. She really was pressing today. I
almost took Raju's name. diverting my attention from Raju, I thought about Marco after ages.
On our first meeting, he intrigued me as the brooding and intellectual kind of man, always
preoccupied with books and figuring out everything about history. The first time we spoke
Marco drudged on about books and debates on ancient civilizations. I listened intently, but
whenever I tried to bring up dancing, he shut me down. I should've seen the red flags way
back then, with his constant dismissal of me and the scoffing at the very mention of dance.
"You'll miss your bus," I replied, slipping in a packet of toffees for her to distribute at school.
"Okay but you have to tell me everything when I'm back." She truly was becoming sharper.

Walking back from her bus stop after dropping here there, I found myself surrounded by a
cloud of nostalgia. I suddenly missed everything. The first dancing outfit that mom stitched
for me, my friends I practiced with, the anklets I wore, Raju... I shook my head as if to shake
the thought away. Sure, he had been nice to me. He let me stay at his home despite his
mother's disapproval, showed interest in my dance, and been there for me when Marco left
me all alone. A married woman with nobody to fall back on. But as time passed, he changed.
I thought the tour guide would guide me in life, keep showing me new places, and always
shower me with the affection and reverence as he did initially. But the success and the money
got to him, and soon enough he snatched from me the few little things that made me happy.
He sold the small house that I treasured, stopped spending time with me, scheduled more
shows than I could handle. I knew he started to had started gambling, too. That was
unfortunately not the worst, my breaking point was not him hiding the book Marco sent for
me or forging my signature, but the fact that he started treating me like a performing bird,
only let out to perform so he could earn as much as possible and then go back to my
suffocating cage. That was not what dance was to me. Through my dance I expressed myself;
I felt free and limitless. It was never meant to be simply a source of income. It was my
passion, my life.

After Raju went to prison, I realised that I was the only person I could reliably and
completely depend on. I cleared off all of my debts in Malgudi and decided I'd begin living
independently, on my own terms. I decided to relocate to Madras. On the day I was supposed
to depart, I went back to the locality I was born in.

Distant screaming hit my ears, that of a child. I ran towards the source of the sound, it came
from a house right next to the temple I was so familiar with. A pair of anklets were thrown
out of the arched, wooden doorway; followed by a small Natraja idol. "Leave this nonsense
dancing or get out of my house!" yelled a lady angrily, as she pulled a young girl out by her
hair. She was bruised and crying, she was then thrown to the ground as the lady, presumably,
her mother landed incessant blows on her. I wasn't one to intervene but I knew this was not
the same old me, I went up to the lady and she went on an enraged rant about how her
daughter, Nalini, refused to give up dance. When asked why dancing was such a crime, she
looked at me like I was some alien. "Because those lowly women do it, the public women.
She wants to dance, she's dead to me." I tried to reason with her but to no avail. I knew what I
had to do. I asked Nalini if she would like to study and learn dancing. She had never been to
school was to be married off soon, she jumped at my offer without any second thought, she
rushed and brought a small bundle of her clothes, to which I added the anklets and Natraja
idol. She talked animatedly throughout the journey about how excited she was. She promised
she would be the most obedient and helpful girl.

She proved to be exactly that over the next five years. We moved into a small, cozy house. I
started teaching dance to a group of young girls from the neighborhood and Nalini learnt
swiftly and with a lot of enthusiasm. She would ask a lot of questions and was very interested
in both; ancient memoirs and dance. She was a huge fan of Marco's book, too. I expected it to
make me feel distressed, but it gave me an unexpected sense of peace. She was a grateful girl,
always appreciative of me and my passion for dance. As time went by she started to get
curious, about my past and why I left Malgudi.

I steeled myself for when she'd return and ask me all kinds of questions. She returned from
school, beaming, she told me about how her day went and gave me a handful of toffees she
had saved for me. "Don't worry," she said suddenly. "Huh?" "I know you think I'll pester you
with questions but I won't. Rosie, you've done so much for me. You allowed me to chase my
passion and taught me to be autonomous and free. I know if there's anything that I need to
know, you'll tell me." I was caught off guard by her words. We had a beautiful evening. I told
her about Marco and about how Nalini was my stage name when I performed with Raju and
she asked me if I thought she was a good dancer. "You're the best." she knew that was all I
needed her to know as I handed her a new book about the history of Malgudi, penned by
Marco, and a shiny, new pair of anklets.