Our youngest sister, Juji, was born with her own rules, and demanded everyone follow them. To understanding her logic took some effort, but ultimately, she’d won. By the time she was ten, her combative instincts had been honed through years of academic authoritarianism.

When the nursery section of the Sacred Heart Convent accepted her, she was not quite three. The school authorities hesitated to allow her admittance because of the age requirement. They had interviewed Juji and found her precociousness irresistible. Besides, her older sister, Munna, was in the fourth grade and was a darling for the nuns.

Juji was scolded for talking in class a few days into academic life. The other kid who started the dialog escaped admonishment. Juji pointed this out to the instructor, who did not appreciate it. She was further rebuked for arguing back. The injustice infuriated Juji, and until fairness was served, she refused to return to school. Daddy attempted to console her and grasp the reason for her distress. Juji, amidst sniffles and sobs, gestured toward our neighbor’s home. Little did Dad know, the house had a hidden well in its backyard. Juji’s story continued. Her habit of licking away the tears rolling down her cheeks never failed to amuse us. We did a quick coverup by informing Dad about the hidden well.

Victims and judges became one entity, and Juji wanted the teacher thrown into the well with the top shut tight. Mummy hugged Juji amidst understanding nods from everyone. Juji waited for Daddy to set the wheels of justice in motion.

Dad struggled to suppress a smile. He reviewed the details and repeated what he’d heard to ensure understanding. Juji listened intently, nodding, and corrected Daddy whenever a detail was missed. Feigning shock at his mistake, he retraced his steps. Confound it! Another vital point was missed, caught by the ever-vigilant Juji. Each time Daddy started over, he recounted the events and added opinions.

“Maybe the teacher didn’t realize the other child started the conversation and wrongly assumed it was you.”

Juji concurred.

“So, it was an honest mistake.”

Juji jumped up, tears ready to spill over. The instructor was at fault-she did not listen to Juji.

Daddy exclaimed, “Oh, oh, oh! I see. You tried telling the teacher.”

Juji nodded. Daddy took a detour.

“What did the other kid say?”

 Juji frowned at Daddy. Confusion crossed her small, chubby face. The other kid had said nothing. Daddy tried to use logical thinking.

“He was afraid of the teacher, that’s why.”

A positive gesture from Juji, Daddy proceeded.

“If he had taken your side, the matter would have been cleared without delay.”

But he did not, and the teacher scolded Juji and disregarded her objections.

The debate was back on track, much to Juji’s relief. Daddy was lost in thought as he gazed out the window. He turned to her with determined eyes and a plan.

“I will call the school tomorrow and speak with the teacher.”

Juji wasn’t unsatisfied. Despite losing some of its shine, the hidden well was the best solution. Daddy went up a rank.

“How about I also lodge a formal protest with the principal, the Reverend Mother?”

Appeased, Juji reminded herself the issue of facing the teacher the next day remained.

“Don’t sit next to that boy, and the teacher won’t even remember.” Juji bristled but then accepted the suggestion and smiled.

Juji continued to discuss the issue with Daddy the following day. He explained his efforts to contact the school and the teacher’s unavailability. Intending to visit the convent to speak directly with the instructor, he offered to pick up Juji from school when he did so.

Dad waited for Juji’s class to be over. The principal saw him and chatted for a few minutes. Munna was a star pupil, and the nuns always praised her. The bell rang. Juji ran out of class and saw Daddy talking to the principal.

On the way home, Daddy evaded the one question on Juji’s mind. She remained silent, overwhelmed by the principal’s interaction with Daddy and praise for Munna’s behavior. There was no mention of the teacher.

In the meantime, Juji’s hair had grown long and unruly, and she refused to wear it in braids. Mummy wanted it cut to a more manageable length. My sister asked me to tag along as an ally to counter Mummy’s decision.  True to herself, she knew what she wanted, which was not what Mummy would let her have. She sat in the boosted chair at the hairdresser’s, and Juji preempted Mummy’s instructions. “I want long hair, not short. It must be straight across the bottom with long bangs, please.”

She guided the stylist’s hand with the comb to her eyes. Mummy protested. Juji gave her a wide-eyed, ready-to-cry glance and the threat of a public meltdown.

Juji returned from school the next day with hair disheveled, sparkling eyes, and a voice filled with excitement.

“Teacher said you not only are a wildcat, but now you look like one too!”

Wow! Such high praise! The teacher’s proclamation to the class restored her to Juji’s graces.

On another occasion, the principal joined Juji’s class for lunch. Juji seized the opportunity, approached her, and peered through lengthening bangs. The Reverend Mother raised her eyebrows at her. Juji announced, “My sister and her friends call you a crocodile.”

When the Reverend Mother cautioned Munna, she was confused.

“Call me whatever you want. Just watch what you say in front of your little sister.”

Shaken, Munna came home and confronted Juji.

She responded with a self-satisfied air. “You call her a crocodile, and I told her.”

Daddy reasoned with Juji, his voice filled with concern. “We shouldn’t say such things. It is not nice.”

“Why did Munna say it? If she says it again, I will tell again.” This last statement was delivered with an air of finality.

Frustrated and fuming, the incident facilitated a newfound respect for Juji among Munna’s friends. Each time they visited, they ensured Juji was not within earshot. She maintained a smug expression for a few days, but was forgotten.

Munna finished high school and pursued a degree in economics at the local university. She transitioned from an all-girls environment to a co-ed setting. Her friends’ group encompassed both young men and women. Juji knew some of them as they visited Munna at home.

When the school closed for the Christmas break, the principal called Daddy a day later. There had been a serious complaint from a parent.  Juji punched their child outside the school gate. She wanted to know if Juji had mentioned anything. Nope! The Reverend Mother asked Daddy not to mention it to Juji. She planned on addressing it directly with her after the school reopened. At dinner time, Juji revealed it. She was certain her actions were warranted and had addressed the issue. Daddy asked, “What was so bad that you had to resort to physical violence?”

Her classmate saw Juji talking to a guy after school. The next day, the young girl stood in class and announced she saw Juji talking to her ‘boyfriend.’ He happened to be Munna’s classmate. Bubbling with anger, Juji lingered outside after school. When the classmate emerged, Juji grabbed her by the collar and gave her a solid punch in the face.

An upset Daddy pointed out, “Words should be responded to only with words, not physical violence.” Daddy warned Juji that this could have serious consequences when school reopened. The punched student’s parents will not put up with this. Juji shrugged it off.

As soon as school restarted in the New Year, the Reverend Mother summoned Juji to her office. She did not deny her actions and provided her version of the event. She said, “If she repeats it, I’ll hit her again!”

The incident was never mentioned again.

Eight-year-old Juji started dance lessons. The teacher, a classical dancer, was well-grounded in the Bharat Natyam dance style. She had several students ranging in age from four to the aspiring teens. Juji loved to dance and became proficient. It was a joy watching her charmed grace and fluid execution of complex pieces.

After months of lessons and practice, Juji’s intricate footwork and coordinated hand-eye expressions qualified her to participate in a local dance competition. She performed with graceful agility, and her entire age group was pegged for individual medals. Other age groups received a medley of knick-knacks. The award ceremony seemed unusual as much time was spent capturing photographs. The awards were handed to the teacher in one bulky package. She redistributed these and reserved the medals for the older girls. She handed Juji’s group some more trivial miscellany from the box.

Juji stumbled upon the fact that the judges had shown her age group trophies. The teacher had reallocated and dispensed the awards as she deemed fit. Juji confronted her and demanded she give the medals to the rightful recipients. Ignoring the thrust of Juji’s argument, the teacher chided her for her ill-mannered and disrespectful conduct. An angry Juji accused the teacher of favoritism. When this didn’t work, she accused the teacher of stealing. The teacher threatened to ban Juji from her school.

She returned home, seething with rage. Juji demanded our parents take dire action against the teacher. Daddy asked a few questions and deplored her interaction with the lady. He offered her advice on how to handle troublesome problems in the future. “Standing up for oneself is a good thing. However, it’s never appropriate to speak to teachers rudely. Never!” Until she was ready to apologize, Dad declined to intervene.

The following day, Mom and I find ourselves outside the dance school. Juji had implored Mom to talk to the teacher, but she had refused. Almost on impulse, we go in.

Mummy apologized for Juji’s unacceptable behavior and supported the teacher’s award decisions. Juji discovered her group had been awarded the medals. How should Mummy handle this? Both Mummy and Juji wanted to continue dancing, but Juji was upset. The conversation ended pleasantly, with pointers exchanged for dealing with precocious offspring. As we left, the teacher held onto Mom’s hand. Once outdoors, Mummy showed me the medal. My eyes widen in admiration. Whether intended, her handling of a tough situation proved persuasive. All she wanted was to apologize for Juji’s behavior.

As we entered our street, we saw Juji on the balcony. She was hopping from foot to foot and waving at us. A broad grin and a loud yell, “Won or lost? Won or lost?” Mummy nudged me with a “See what I mean,” a reference to her still-fresh conversation with the teacher.

Mummy ignored Juji when we went inside the house. Juji’s persistent questioning elicited curt and static responses.

“Did you go to the school?”

“We went to the market.”

“Did you meet with the teacher?”

“After your shameful behavior yesterday, who can face your teacher?”

“What did you say to the teacher?”

“I apologized for your behavior.”

Cutting to the chase, “Did you get my medal?”

Mummy could not carry it any longer. She held out her hand. Juji pounced on the medal, performed a little dance, and ran off. She was eager for the more sympathetic Daddy to come home and help celebrate her victory.

Juji’s triumphant yells, and with Daddy’s indulgent responses, Mummy shook her head, in amusement and helplessness.