She’d get in trouble. She had to get good grades. Had had had.
Usha tried to listen to the lecture, tried to keep her notes in sync with the chalk on the whiteboard.
She wasn’t zoning out. If anything, she was all too aware of herself. She was sure she could feel lunch slowly being pushed through her intestine – if that was all, when could deal with it. But the muscles of her legs were on the edge of a cramp. Her back didn’t know what curve it wanted to take. He shoulders, her hips. Wanted to move. Needed. to move.
She was quite ready to admit Aunt Mina was right to think she needed coaching. She’d become a lot more consistent in holding poses the past weeks – and pushing herself, when her aunt allowed. Obviously, to make sure you always get the right angle, you have to be able to easily get past that angle. Being perfect on stage meant you never went all out, risking failure. That every ‘innovation’ was never something you start from scratch on – always hooking on to some other skill, that the public doesn’t need to know about.
Which is to say, at Aunt Mina’s home she was stretching a lot while being quizzed on the things the Hindu judges were likely to ask about. They were going to be Hindu. When Aunt Mina had asked for a copy of the rules, the man had said they weren’t available to the public – “researched” she had said with a voice. This meant they had to assume the judges would be Hindu. Even if Ma would say Usha didn’t need to learn that stuff – people were happy to hear what they wanted to hear. Just like at school.
But. No, no swearing. She wanted to move her muscles. even if it was somthing like just having a bench to herself, pushing the other kids off it, sitting in a straddle as she continued to take notes, feeling the painted wood grain on her thighs.
It wasn’t going to happen. People didn’t ask to see that sort of thing, even during break. She didn’t mind being known as flexible – especially after she wins that yogasana competition – but she didn’t want it to become the norm her classmates attributed to her – like, every break she’d be the one desperately folding in half in the corner, lest she implode upon herself from tension like a rubber band ball mid-class. None of that.
She’d experiment, keeping weight on her feet when she could just sit, pressing thighs against the bench heels into the ground, keeping them at tension – something to resist. Leaning into an elbow on the desk, slouching almost on the brink of falling off the bench.
She’d try holding her breath silently – and exhaling, using the extra space under her school uniform to coax single muscles in and out of position, going only by the feel. Sometimes getting an audible pop of ligament as tension was released – a failure on her part, even if a relief.
Standing in line, she’d pull her abdomen to uddiyana – sometimes to nauli, but the extra movement would draw attention if anyone were to look a moment too long. Pure Uddiyana – slow, controlled retraction, was as good an engagement as she could hope for.
Even on the bus ride home, sitting next to Virika, she would often try to sit prim and proper in her seat, a bump in the road swaying just enough to show someone watching that there was not quite as much holding up that uniform as on might first expect. Of course, if Virika looked like she was going to try and draw attention to it, she got a quick disciplinary flick to the forehead. Kayam, of course, probably noticed, knowing what to look for – but wasn’t one to speak up about anything.
Off the bus, after the short walk to the village and home, it was a different dynamic. Jyoti would not let her daughters get away with just anything – but Dhanya was enough of a handful that any potential helicopter mother actions would be while stuck circling her her youngest in between actually getting other things done.
Homework would, of course, be completed after a break, and dinner, and chores. Usha was sometimes given the responsibility of a last minute purchase back near the road – but had been trying to get Virika to inherit the responsibility. She rather disappear off to Mina’s house.
Of course if Mina was for some reason unavailable, Usha would be in the position of stretching herself. Virika would be happy to assist if asked – pushing or pulling her older sister as requested – and if not, Virika got to order Kayam around, Her mother and the eldest too distracted to stop her from doing so.
~
“Abhay,” it was the lunch break – prayers recited, lunch line emptying – and the cafeteria’s tables were full, many groups loudly conversing, though many ran outside as soon as they were allowed, “Have you got your number yet? Mine came in the mail yesterday. 423!” Usha leaned over the table, a bit too excited to eat. “Or… 4 minus 23?”
Abhay paused in his rice and scrambled eggs, sinking a little bit “My parents said that they would not sign as my coach,” he frowned, trying to look more disapproving than disappointed, “Who did you find?”
“Oh, my Aunt Mina is coaching me. She’s tough.” Usha had a urge to continue with but now I can kiss my own ass, but who knew how far that would carry in the cafeteria.
Abhay sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll have to come cheer you on. I can probably at least make that happen.”
Usha smiled apologetically. Abhay didn’t even ride the bus, so it would be pointless to ask if Aunt Mina would coach him as well – competition or not. And besides – a girl taking a boy home – they were old enough that started to mean something.
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