Tantra in Action Series III : The Girl Who Made Me Want to Hit Her

There was a girl who once came under my care. Her name was Daveena. She came from a difficult home. Her mother, overwhelmed and struggling, used to beat her with a metal hanger.

I confronted the mother once when I saw the markings on the hands and legs during dance class. She didn’t deny it. She told me about her own struggles.

So I made a decision, Daveena would come to me after school. I would look after her until her mother comes back from work.

At first, everything seemed normal. She was polite enough. Quiet at times. A Bharatanatyam student, same class as my daughter. But there was something else.

Every time I looked at her, I felt it. A sharp, unsettling anger. Not mild irritation. Something stronger. Like I just wanted to smack her. And I couldn’t understand why.

I never acted on it. But I didn’t ignore it either. So I stopped.

And I asked myself a simple question:

Why am I feeling this way toward her? Not what is wrong with her. But what is happening in me.

Because anger is not always the truth. Sometimes, it is the signal.

So instead of reacting, I watched. I watched her and I watched myself. I watched what kept rising every time she spoke, every time she resisted, every time she didn’t bend.

At dance class, I noticed something. The teacher would constantly pick on her. Correct her. Scold her. Not my daughter. Her.

I asked the teacher one day: “What is it about this girl?”

“She is arrogant,” he said. “She thinks she is good. She doesn’t accept correction. There’s ego.”

At home, I heard similar things. My husband’s cousin’s two daughters stayed with us. They didn’t like Daveena being around.

“She’s a bad influence,” they said. “When she’s here, your daughter talks back.”

I listened. But I kept watching. And slowly, something began to move.

The anger didn’t disappear immediately. But it started to change because I began to see more clearly. What I thought was arrogance was something else. What I thought was defiance was something else.

She wasn’t pushing against me. She was holding her ground. And then it became obvious. She was a survivor.

A child who had learned to stand her ground because no one else was going to stand it for her. That “attitude” everyone complained about was the very thing that had kept her intact.

After that, everything changed. Even the way I joked with them.

"To see the two of you together is very scary,” I told them. They of course laugh and wants the reason, and so I tell them “If I send Ashwini to her room, she’ll sit on her bed quietly sulking until I call her. But if I send Daveena…When I come back, she’ll still be on the bed, and the mattress would be upside down and the walls will have new drawings” and I meant it.

What I was seeing wasn’t just behaviour. It was energy. One that adapts. One that resists. And when they come together something move.

I began to appreciate her. Truly.

And over time, I realised something important.

That first feeling I had that anger, that urge it wasn’t the truth. It was the doorway.

One day, the girls were playing in the garden. A neighbour came over, upset.

“She took a mango,” she said pointed at Daveena “From my tree.”

I called Daveena. She didn’t deny it. She admitted it immediately. I looked at her. Angry.

“I have fruits at home,” I told her. “Mangoes. Anything you want. So why did you go next door and take it?”

She didn’t answer. She just stood there, and looked at me. Waiting. Not for explanation. For punishment.

That was when I saw it. Those eyes looking up at me. Not arrogant. Not defiant. Waiting for impact. And suddenly it wasn’t just her standing there but me.

A memory of me as a young girl resurface. My father had bought me books. Drawing blocks and note book for me to scribble things I loved. But one day, I found something else in father’s drawer. Beautiful letterheads. Colourful. Different. I took them. Used them for scribbling.

When my father saw, he was furious. He took the cane, and I stood there looking up at him in the same way. Waiting.

And in that moment something became very clear. I could repeat what was done to me or I could stop it. I didn’t hit her. I laughed. Not at her.

At the moment. At how easily the same thing could happen again. She looked confused. Still waiting. For something. But nothing came.

Instead, I pulled her in and I hugged her. She froze at first. Then softened.

And I laughed again. Not because it was funny. But because something had finally ended.

When the moment settled, I pulled back. And I spoke to her.

“What you did was wrong,” I said. “You don’t take things from other people’s garden without asking.”

She listened. Quiet this time. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t repeat myself. I just made it clear. And she understood.

Reflection

Not everything that disturbs you is wrong. Sometimes, it is revealing something you have not yet understood. Not all defiance is arrogance. Some of it is survival. And sometimes, the work is not to change the person in front of you, but to see them without interference. You don’t always need to correct what you feel. You don’t need to suppress it either. Sometimes, you just need to watch it long enough, until it shows you what it really is.

Tantra in Action

The first reaction is not always the truth. It is the doorway.

The question is will you react to it, or stay long enough to see what’s behind it?

April 3rd, 2026