Martial arts have forever mesmerised the layman. Those movie scenes with punches, strikes and kicks by stars appeal to aesthetic sensibilities. There is poetry in motion in the movements. I saw beauty with truth and vice versa in the postures and stances. There is poetry when the martial artist’s fists bounce forth and back within a fraction of a second and when his feet rise above the head of the opponent in myriad combinations of kicks.
My passion for karate developed in my teens. When I couldn’t resist the temptation, I sent my mother to a nearby karate school. As most mothers born in the last century would have done, her most important enquiry was whether the instructor would touch the body during the training process. The fair and honest trainer was not worried about making his Dojo full. His response put a pause to my dream.
Then it happened, beyond my wildest dreams. I married one whose first love was karate. Our honeymoon was not in any hill station. But it was spicier, with the very first lessons in karate from him. I liked most of the katas. But it was with Seienchin, the black belt kata in Shito style, that I fell in love. I often wonder: had those Shiko Dachi postures been done by a dancer, how graceful it would have been!
While I was trying to perfect my Shiko stance, a cheque I issued bounced since my signature did not conform to that in the bank’s records. The sensei in my husband said, “Oh, your Shiko Dachi is getting right.” I frowned: what did my signature have to do with Shiko Dachi? But there indeed was a connection, as I eventually realised.
When I planned to register for a Ph.D., no deep contemplation was required. I conceived the topic thus: “Effects of Martial Arts on Linguistic Performance in English with Special Reference to Karate”.
The experimental package in karate that I pursued as part of my research work included my favourite Seienchin, along with two black belt-level katas. Just three months of training and the results exceeded my expectations. The samples belonged to the higher secondary session, where the pupae-like adolescents were craving to attain adulthood.
Prior to the training, the boys typically yielded to the bullies among them. Post-training, they were no more submissive. Even without any punches, their body language sent out the signal that they could no longer be intimidated. They attained unplugged confidence. Their dormant potential came to life. I recall a girl proudly saying that she had realised that her voice was sweet and she could sing well. Reinforcing my own experience, three months of training changed the handwriting of some of them. This might well have been the work of happy chemicals. But my concern was whether any of the linguistic skills of these bubbly spirits had been boosted. The findings showed that all the basic skills — listening, speaking, reading and writing — had improved significantly. The biggest transformation had happened in their speaking skills.
Better self-awareness and self-esteem lifted their confidence, which in turn improved their accent, raised their tone and made them more assertive on stage.
Now I am more convinced than ever that romancing with karate in the proper sequence gives a boost to the brain.
sajeenasi@gmail.com
