she has four paper puppets in her puppet theatre book.
'her' imaane aapa gifted it to her.
those four puppets have travelled a fair distance from the red riding hood storybook. but they fit in the palm of her hand and at most they are carried to look at the flowering plant, or find themselves wedged behind the bed because they are hiding from each other. ( lets not talk about the two that have remained in hiding long enough to be called-lost!)
and yesterday she saw a puppet come to life as three people manouvered it.
it transformed from Ram to Hanuman. it beheaded ravan's shadow puppet.it pined for Sita despairing behind the curtain. it was about ram.
she does not know the story of ram. she asked why ram and sita were 'so sad'. hanuman, ofcourse, delighted her the most.
she sat through most of the 70-80 minute production enchanted. i thought she might doze off at some point, i guess if the play had gone on any longer she might have.
we came home and ofcourse i was eager to know what sense she made of it. she did not bother with the story. but tried to recreate the movements of the puppets.
a hush fell over all the children as the lights dimmed. and they were all sucked into a world of sounds and drums, where wooden arms moved ever so gently creating a universe of pain and longing, where three adults moved like dancers to hold still the heroic stance of the puppet...
i hope they remember that enchanted one hour the next time they see the shadow of the curtain making patterns on their walls. or the heroic scrap of paper making its way in the breeze.