Interwoven (a story about cross-cultural connection)

Interwoven

1. The trouble all started with the Battle of the Bands.
2. Kiara, Beth, and I had planned to perform “Deep in the Shadows,” a song we’d been working on for weeks. But, we just couldn’t get it right. Something was missing. Still, I believed we could do it—we had three months left to figure it out, after all. That was plenty of time.
3. Or, at least it would have been, if

   Daadee

   hadn’t decided I’d become alienated from my Indian heritage.

4. “Just look at Ankita. The girl dresses like an American, talks like an American, and eats like an American,” she declared as I fiddled with my

   aloo kachori sabzi

   and wished for a Poptart.
5. “We live in America, Daadee,” said

   Ammā

   .
6. Daadee ignored this. “It’s unacceptable. I saw this at the community center,” she said, waving a flyer under our noses.
7. "Tabla classes?" I read, moaning. "Daadee,

   Hindustani music

   is so BORING!"
8. "Ah-ah! Classical music is our family's heritage," she said. "Your grandfather wooed me with his sitar. Your mother sings like an angel. And you? You are always tap-tapping your foot. For you, the tabla drum."
9. I just managed to stifle my groan. I already had a full schedule, what with soccer, advanced math class, and band rehearsals. “But Daadee, I already feel very connected to India.”
10. “Oh yeah? Say that in Hindi, girl.” She crossed her arms, the jingling of her bangles punctuating her statement.
11. I opened and then closed my mouth. I sighed. I knew I’d lost.

12. “Okay, practice after school?” asked Beth.
13. “Sorry. I have to help my mom,” I lied. I don’t know why I didn’t tell them about the tabla classes, but somehow, missing band practice to go practice music elsewhere felt disloyal.
14. Kiara groaned. “That’s the third time this week! We’ll never be ready in time!”
15. I silently agreed with her. The song still wasn’t right, and we needed to figure it out.
16. “I swear, I’ll be totally free after the 23rd.” That was the day the class would have its final performance.
17. Beth shot up from her chair. “The Battle of the Bands is on the 26th! Are you serious?”
18. “What about this weekend? I’m free all Saturday. I can host.”
19. Beth deflated a bit. “Fine.”

20. We’d been practicing for hours when Ammā called us to lunch.
21. “So,” said Daadee without preamble, “will you two be coming to Ankita’s tabla performance?”
22. “Daadee!” I shouted. Everyone ignored me.
23. “What’s tabla?” asked Kiara as Beth said, “Is that why you’ve been so busy?”
24. I looked at Daadee, but she sat with her lips clamped shut.
25. “Tabla is a kind of Indian drum, and yeah, that’s why I’ve been so busy. I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t care about the band. I didn’t choose to take tabla classes,” I finished, staring pointedly at Daadee.
26. She stared right back, and I withered. “But, I have to admit, I really do enjoy them.”
27. “Well, count us in!” said Kiara.

28. As I walked onto the community center’s stage on the night of the performance, I spotted my family and friends in the third row.
29. We settled into our spots and waited for the instruction to begin. Any anxiety I had faded away as I struck the first notes on my drums. My mind faded into the hypnotic rhythms of the music, and I forgot everything until the last notes echoed throughout the room.
30. Beth and Kiara raced up to me after our bows. “That was incredible!” exclaimed Beth.
31. “And I have an idea,” said Kiara.

32. Three days later, I walked onto another stage. We’d worked all weekend to get the song right, and I was confident that it was finally complete.
33. “And our next contestants in the Battle of the Bands are Ankita, Beth, and Kiara. Welcome their band Interwoven!”
34. I barely listened. My hands beat the first rhythms of our song, the notes of the tabla rolling through the air before Beth and Kiara joined in. I was thrilled as my rhythm danced between the melody that poured from Kiara’s piano and Beth’s guitar.
35. Before I knew it, the song was over. The crowd burst into applause, the loudest they’d given to any band yet.
36. As I walked off the stage, I discovered Daadee waiting in the wings. She hugged me. “Well, Ankita, today you offered something new to all those people. I’m proud of you.”
37. I hugged her back. Because the truth was, I was proud of me, too.