It was cold, not such that it had you shivering from head to toe, but enough for the three-year-old girl to be bundled into a knitted, pink sweater. Sonu picked at it uncomfortably, as she gazed out at the big lake around her. Boats dotted her vision, moving slowly across the water as the grown-ups who sat in them huffed as they pedalled.
On her own boat, her parents sat across her, pedalling the boat with an unhurried ease, while her dad kept one hand on the long stick behind. On Sonu’s right, her older brother chatted away excitedly. The four of them were on their way to Mussourie, a few hours away from home, and had stopped for boating on the lake that had become customary to these trips.
As Sonu listened to her brother going on and on about his own skill with pedalling the boat (he had done it for a minute at the most!), she tried unsuccessfully to enjoy the wind and the water. Finally, feeling that enough was enough, Sonu decided that it was time to speak up for herself. Plastering a frown on her puffed-up cheeks, she folded her arms for extra effect, and heaved in annoyance.
“Even I want to pedal,” she said.
Her parents looked at her in surprise. “But you’re too small for this,” said her mother, while her brother sniggered on the side.
“You let bhaiya do it!” she persevered. “Even I want to try.”
“But – “
“Sure,” her father said, cutting off her mother’s objection. Her mother looked surprised, and was about to say something again when her dad gave one of those grown-up looks that she seemed to understand.
“Really?!” the little girl asked, trying to mask her nervousness in excitement.
“Yes. But you’ll have to switch seats with me,” her father said, and proceeded to show her where to place her footing as the two of them carefully switched seats with each other.
As Sonu plopped down on to the seat of power, she suddenly wasn’t too sure about what to do. Her mother, who was now sitting next to her, spoke up.
“Okay, now put your feet on the pedals. And start moving them forward, like this,” she said, as she continued pedalling calmly.
Following instructions, she put each of her buckled shoes on the pedals, and then pushed.
And pushed some more.
And a little more.
But the pedals wouldn’t move. Not even when she scrunched up her face from the effort, and put out her tongue in the unconscious way she always did when trying to concentrate on something.
The pedals just wouldn’t move.
Trying to ignore her brother’s snigger, Sonu glumly looked up at her dad. Thankfully, he wasn’t laughing. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “It takes a lot of strength. You’ll be able to do it when you’re a little older.”
And with that, he took over the pedals from his own seat, and motioned for her brother to take over from her mother, and the two started pedalling the boat in reverse.
Turning to her side, she pretended to look at the lake as she fought off the urge to cry, as the feeling of uselessness spread all over her, ringing deafeningly in her ears. In fact, it took her a couple of seconds to realize her father was talking to her.
“What?” she asked, turning in front.
“Can you turn us a little to the left?” her father said. “We’re getting a little close to the edge.”
Confused, she asked him how.
“That stick,” he said, motioning to the stick behind her that she had noticed earlier. “It’s for navigation. Turn it towards you.”
Turning sideways, she put her hand on the navigation stick and pulled it towards her, half expecting it to stay where it was. To her surprise, it moved easily, and slowly, the boat also started to turn.
“You mean I can control where we’re going with this?” she asked, as the smile slowly started to find its way back on her face.
Her father nodded, explaining how the direction of the turn would depend on which side they were pedalling from.
The three-year-old nodded as she listened. “So, you mean that if mamma and I were pedalling, I would have to move it in the opposite direction? Hmm…that makes sense.”
Then, as though suddenly remembering her own age, she turned to her mother and asked her if she wanted to navigate. Smiling, her mother shook her head slowly. “Why don’t you be the navigator today?”
The words seemed to drop a load of responsibility on her, but for once, instead of feeling like shirking away, she sat up straight. Now this, I can do.
With a big smile on her face, she turned to the other three passengers. “Alright, I’m going to get us to there,” she said, pointing to the far end of the lake with one hand, while the other firmly moved the navigation bar in the proper direction.
“And after that, papa you tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. And bhaiya, you tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. And mamma you too,” she rambled along.
“I’m the navigator,” she said proudly, oblivious to the tired looks exchanged by the others. This was going to be a long day of pedalling.
