When morning came that day, I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to go out to the garden, didn't want to pick up my bow and didn't want to shoot at the target. I didn't want to see my arrow drop only halfway there. I definitely didn't want to have to turn around and see the fat priest smirking. That had been my daily routine for the past month and I was tired of it.
But my father would never let me quit. So I got up, got dressed and went out. Father met me in the gardens. He smiled. I gave a weak smile in return.
"Shreeman Vidyarup told me how well you have been doing in your studies. He tells me you can add and subtract now. Is it?"
I perked up. "Of course, father. I can even do that with big numbers."
"Really? Then will you do some maths for me? I really could use your help."
"Sure."
"So what is 5 units subtracted from 10 units?"
"5 units!"
"Very good! Now what is 4 units subtracted from 10 units?"
"6 units!"
"And 3 units subtracted from 10 units?"
"7 units. But ask me something difficult. This is too easy!"
"Beta, that target is 10 units away from you. The first week you practised, your arrow covered only 5 units' distance." My face fell.
Father continued,"The second week, it reached 6 units and the after that, 7 units. Do you know what that means?"
"I am a bad shooter."
"No. It means that you are getting stronger. Soon you arrow will be hitting the target."
"Really?"
"Really."
He was right. It did. Our next step was to try and hit the small circle father had made in the center of the target. It took a lot of effort. But now I had a lot more faith in myself and I would not be stopped.
I practiced day after day. Even when my father left to take care of his other duties, I stayed on, shooting arrow after arrow. When my fingers bled from the bow-string, I tied strips of cloth on them and continued on. Eventually my skin on my fingers grew harder and stopped hurting. I practiced on hot-sunny days and on rainy days and on wintry days. I would NOT be stopped.
The day I hit the center of the target five times in a row, I finally turned around to face my tormentor. Up till now I had kept my back towards him. I wasn't sure what it would do to my new-found confidence if I saw that man smirking again.
I turned around and looked straight at him. Initially he tried to act as if it was no big deal and shrugged his shoulders. But I didn't react or say anything. I just stared. Finally he broke eye contact, gathered his things and walked away.
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Father kept setting me tougher targets. He moved the board back another 10 units. When I matched this, he moved it another 10 units, and kept on like that till I could shoot actual long-range shots. We also practiced hitting moving targets.
Since I wouldn't hit a bird or an animal, he used a gulel (a hand-held catapult) to throw small objects up in the air. Someday, he warned me, I am going to take you into the forest and you will have to get over this mental block as well.
"But that day is not today," I was thankful.
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