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I wondered if we, my husband and I were callous in letting our little girl wait it out back stage till her turn came

Culture Day at school. As our little one was singing a solo number, my husband and I stood in for her parents, who were out travelling. Everything seemed wonderfully arranged. A teacher took charge of the wards as they entered, leading them kindly by the hand into the area where they would prepare for the event.

Mothers were asked to hand over whatever props they had brought along, parents told to keep their cell phones off, to refrain from standing in front to the stage to take photos. Dutifully, we toed the line, taking our places where we could see clearly and be seen by our star when she came onstage. The time was 9.30 am.

I took note of the hall. It was done up quite well, taking into consideration the fact that the building was not really complete. The 'sound man' sat to one side. I did not quite like the mess of wires around the table and underfoot. When a mother walked up with a little one, too young for school but here to watch an elder sibling perform, she stood on the wires. The little one clung to her legs, then sat down. I asked the man if he could conceal or pull up the wires. He shook his head, they are sound wires, he said, nothing will happen.

But there are these light stands, and they have wires too, I remonstrated. Those are not mine, he said. Then as if to put an end to the conversation, he started the music. Nice, foot tapping music. I could see people, who had started taking their seats, perking up. And some feet began to tap.

The audio speakers were very close to the chairs, and I wondered if any one had worked out safe decibel levels for tiny ears. To me, who likes my music soft, the sound seemed much too loud. And some of the children had their hands on their ears.

The show started, children came on stage, many of them crying for their mothers. The emcee, brave women, kept urging the audience to clap, to encourage the little artistes, all aged between 2 and 5.

Some mothers stood near the stage acting out what they wanted their children to do. Others chatted on the cell phone, or went backstage to check on their wards. I wondered if my husband and I were callous in letting our little girl wait it out backstage till her turn came. It would take at least two hour for her to perform. Finally, I told myself, rules be damned, I needed to check on her.

Walking to the green room, I was relieved to find her sitting calmly watching the others. She saw me and came up, we chatted, she was thirsty, a teacher got her a drink of water. Her turn would come soon, the teacher added, could she please wait right there. I assured our star that we would be in the front seat, clapping loudly when she finished, and left her in the able hands of her teacher.

The teachers seemed to have endless patience. One glimpse of the bawling children, the teary faces, the mothers bustling in and out, carrying toys, tiffin boxes, what-have-you, and I was tense. But the teachers never once lost their calm, patiently telling mothers to go back to the hall, telling children to have their snacks, calming the crying ones which worked quite well, unless the mother hovered. It was a brave attempt at putting pre-schoolers on stage.

But besides the talent and the effort, it showed me how parents reacted. Some of them took their children’s failure to perform personally, letting their faces drop, their jaws harden as they picked up their child.

Others pushed a child who had been stage struck and lost his chance on to the stage while another child was performing, and smiled when the boy found comfort in company and began to dance too. That the performer was distracted seemed of no import. It was each family unit for itself, and damn the others.

All told, a great lesson. Telling me that god is in the details, that stage décor does not make up for messy wires, that earnest teachers have a hard battle against over-eager moms, that competition is not about honing one's skills or trying to develop new ones, but about winning and not losing.

After all, this was but a pre-school event, and these children would have many years more of song and dance and of course, studies and exams.

I wondered what lay in store for them in the years ahead, in this new Must Do mental environment that seemed to be the order of the day.

Email: ssaran@dnaindia.net