A PONY “TALE”

“Ma, is breakfast ready? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Samyuktha clambered down the steps to the dining table. “Behave like a lady Sam,” chided her father Rajendran, as Sam stuffed a few pieces of toast down her throat and washed them down with a glass of milk. “Bye Ma, Pa, I’m off to school,” she shouted as she rushed out the front door. “Hold your horses, young lady,” her father looked up from his newspaper, “What’s the big hurry? It’s not even 8 yet.” “Gotta rush Pa, Amma will explain.” Rajendran looked in askance at his wife Hema, who heaved a big sigh in reply.

Samyuktha, or Sam, as she insisted she be called, was their only daughter. Though her parents were overjoyed by the birth of a girl after two boys, they joy was tempered by the fact that Sam was a true tomboy in every sense of the word. The precocious 12-year-old would not even be caught dead in anything remotely feminine. Getting her to wear a dress was like flogging a dead horse. The only concession she made to acknowledge that she was of the female species was to grow her hair, as Hema simply refused to allow her pre-teen to chop her gorgeous tresses, which she always wore in a ponytail.

Hema had had to use the carrot-and-stick approach to coax and cajole her daughter to care for her hair and let it grow to its present thick and luxurious length. She had to resort to every trick in the book, ranging from bribes and threats to tears and blackmail. Shopping for clothes usually ended with Hema buying Sam a pair of pants while wistfully exclaiming, “I wish you would at least try on that pink dress.” Sam’s standard reply was, “Amma, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride and I’d have been born a boy.” End of discussion. My hair is my mum’s hobbyhorse, Sam would often tell her friends, to which Hema would retort, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth Sammy, most girls would kill for hair like yours.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” said Rajendran, startling Hema out of her reverie. “Sam is entering a beauty contest. Her teachers will be selecting one girl from her class to represent her school at the inter-school level. She’s been going early to Sheela’s house everyday to practice her walk and try out costumes.” explained Hema. Sheela was Sammy’s best pal. “But that’s wonderful,” exclaimed Rajendran, “She’s finally discovering her feminine side, so why the long face?” Hema shook her head, “There’s a catch to this whole situation. She wants to cut her hair as she thinks it will make her look trendy and more in line with the latest styles.” Rajendran took a more practical approach, “Get off your high horse, Hema and look at the bright side of things. Her hair will grow back. For now, be happy she’s finally showing interest in being a girl.” Hema finally realised that she had been putting the cart before the horse and resolved to get her priorities right.

That evening saw an ecstatic and breathless Sam run up the driveway, “Amma, Appa, I’ve won. I’ve been selected to represent our school.” Hema smiled indulgently at her daughter’s exuberance, “Slow down Sammy, take a deep breath and tell us the whole story.” “It was a one-horse race as far as my class was concerned, but at the inter-school level I’ll be the dark horse. I have to start preparing for the big day, Amma. When are you taking me to the parlour so I can get my hair cut and styled?” Sam continued. Hema knew she could only take a horse to the water, but not make it drink, so she reluctantly agreed to accompany her daughter to the hair dresser the following day.
Later that night, Sam was indulging in a bit of horseplay with her brothers who were teasing her mercilessly for entering a beauty contest. “Phone for you Sammy,” interrupted Hema, “Sheela on the line.”

A few minutes later, Sam’s subdued announcement, “Ma, I don’t want to cut my hair,” stunned her family into silence. She continued softly, “If I do, it would amount to closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. Sheela said she overheard a few teachers discussing the outcome of today’s competition, and one of them said she heard it straight from the horse’s mouth that it was my hair that tipped the scales in my favour. The judges felt that it made me look more graceful and elegant.”

Hema smiled and realised that her “hair-raising” plans were back on track!