Random thoughts on parenting

**This is so unlike me to do two posts on a day. Today is my last day at work and I have a feeling that it is going to be some time before I have a look at this place called ‘Sugar and Spice’. So, I thought of torturing you enough to make you really miss me during my absence. Heh!**

Some time ago, one of my friends called. She has a close-to-one-year-old son. We were generally chit-chatting and gossiping for some time and then, she proceeded to talk about my kids. I am generally the kind who avoids talking about kids unless the audience like to listen about their antics. I described exactly in twenty words about Keer and Kau and moved over to her kid. I thought she too would do the same – answer in brief about her kid. Apparently, I hadn’t known much about her.

She kept talking on and on about her one-year old’s crawling, sleeping, trying-to-standing, babbling, peeing, pooping and all. I did listen to her patiently, even though I say so myself. But, there was one sentence which made me feel bad. ‘R (her son) does a lot of things and is more active than what Kaushik was when he was a one-year-old!’ I felt awful hearing that. I was angry and hurt but showed nothing of that to her. For the eight odd years of knowing her, I know she was just trying to tell how her son is superior in all respects. The comparison, though unwarranted, was not intended to hurt me at all. This, I know, only because I know her as a person for a long long time.

In all of the above, apart from the rage and anger I felt, I felt a tinge of sadness too. Sadness for the kid. When a parent is going to unnecessarily blow up the milestones of a one-year old, wouldn’t it lead to the kid developing a superiority complex in the long run? At least, I believe this bragging doesn’t do much good to the kid. The next time I meet her, I am sure I would tell her this fact. In a diplomatic, yet a firm tone. After all, she is my friend.

If this is one extreme of parenting, I’ve seen the exact opposite too. A neighbour of mine in the US, would, with her five-year-old in tow, complain about the kid endlessly. For his lack of interest in studies. For his lack of appetite for healthy food. For his non-social nature. For everything and sundry. And, for all that I’ve seen, she pampers him otherwise, beyond proportions. So, which of the two would work in the kid’s favour? Pampering in solitude or complaining to Tom, Dick and Harry about every bad thing? Neither.

Both the approaches of parenting mentioned above don’t appeal to me. Genuine appreciation is required; and so is reprimanding bad behaviour. However, both of them don’t need audience in the form of third-parties. It is better and works best when done one-on-one.

*****

Some time ago, on a post called ‘Disconnected thoughts’, Ani had raised a few questions and I had assured her that I would try to think and answer them in the best possible manner. I found it ridiculously unfair to go on a break without keeping my word. So, here is what I believe to be my answer.

‘Is there a way to get things done by the husband and the kids without the nagging, shouting and the stress?’ – This was the summary of Ani’s question. (Correct me if I am wrong, Ani!)

First, with reference to the husband, although I don’t believe in gender stereotypes entirely, I also believe there is a string of DNA difference between a normal male and a female. While the females generally have the attitudes and attributes of having a clean (or at least a less cluttered) home and a systematic routine of doing things, it is not so with the men who can live amid a lot of clutter and an insanely irregular lifestyle. With the experience of knowing a few couples having the same differences, I believe it is the human-system-default-prototype problem, mostly.

Now, what can be done to solve this? Striking a balance can be a solution. A distant one that. Or getting used to the nature of each other and letting go can be a solution. Which is far from being easy and attainable, too. Then, something is better than stress. No?! Apart from these two, if any one can think of any other, do let us know.

Next is the children having to be nagged to do work. Well.. They are children and their job description is to behave the way they do. Right? A lot of times, I scream at my kids for making the room messy and feel a tinge of hard hitting guilt envelope me after that. I mean, they are not adults who we can hold responsible for doing things as per the norm. Honestly, a lot of times, I do miss being irresponsible as a child. (Don’t we all feel that way or is it only me?) Then, it is so ironical that I expect my child to be responsible. I am not saying it is right not to teach them to responsible. Just like being irresponsible is their job description, teaching them to be responsible is that of a parent. All I am trying to say is we need to realise they are kids and no amount of screaming would make them an adult overnight.

Also, when I sit down and think sanely after bouts of screaming at the other family-members, be it the child or the husband, I realise it is more on account of the frustration and stress accumulated inside me from some other place (or person) like the office, deadline, my own ill health or extended family pressure that gets vented on them, rather than their act per se. Given the same set of situations on one end and a stress-free-me on the other, I would deal with it in a more mature and patient manner. This has always been the conclusion. Always.

Then, the dreaded word of ‘expectation’! Can I tackle this with an example? I like our laundry to be washed on alternate days, while my husband likes to do it once a week (simply on account of sheer laziness!) When I entrust the job to him and expect him to do it on alternate days, then I am not being fair. So, there, a compromise will have to be struck. I have (with a capital H) to bear the over flowing stinking laundry bag through the week, if I expect him to do the job. Otherwise, there is the option of doing the laundry myself, which leads to tiredness and in turn, stress. So, to combat expectation, I need to compromise. A way out, yes. But a difficult one, that.

I am not sure how much this answer is of help to you, Ani. But, as I thought through and typed out this, I realised a lot of not-so-nice-things that I do that eventually makes me force stress into myself; a lot of things in me that need massive overhauling. I should thank you a million times for this self-realisation exercise. Thanks!

My next few days

One month at Madras,

Two Ayush-homam functions to attend,

Three weeks of being away from the CH (who is off to the US on official work),

Meet-up of four lovely cousins,

Five cities to tour in six days’ time,

Seven hundred kilometers of total travel,

Eight weeks of no-schooling, and

Infinite joyous family moments.

Take care, all you people. Will update you with a new post once I get hold of the worn-out computer at Madras!

And He did it!

100*100. Phew!

I have nothing to say. I am proud. Overwhelmed. Emotional. Tears are dripping down my cheeks. Happy ones that.

Here is one bit of statistic to define Sachin’s greatness, if there could be any.

‘Tendulkar: time taken from first to 100th intl century 7891 days (21 yrs 7 months and 8 days)!’ 

All hail the Master!! Let’s rejoice, the billion people of India.

The Maha-reading sessions

I’ve just completed reading ‘Bhimsen’, the Mahabharatha from Bhim’s perspective, originally written by MT Vasudevan Nair in Malayalam titled ‘Randamoozham’, loosely translated into English by Prem Panicker which is available for free, here. And, I’ve been floored by the epic’s generosity of giving perspective after perspective. One more time.

My rendezvous with the epic began with sitting on my grandpa’s laps listening intently at every word he had to utter. ‘Dharmar was impeccable and consistent in speaking the truth. Always’, he would say. ‘Never lust for others’ material possessions. Do you remember what happened to Duryodhana?’, he would question. ‘If you have friends who are bad, you will be one among them, too. Karna!’, his eyes would do the rest of the talking. Although listening to stories from people experienced as him, was an experience by itself, it also had a big disadvantage of getting to know just one perspective, not stimulating enough to think beyond the norms. These sessions never went beyond a ‘Good Vs. Evil’ view point. Also, a result of these story-telling sessions was that a lot of content was censored as not age-appropriate letting the epic to be a very diluted watered-down version of the original.

Later, when BR Chopra set out to visually portray the epic, I was on my toes to watch it every weekend. It was such a pity that there was nothing great to take away from the televised version, except may be, the props and the sets. Sigh.

However, I never got around reading the epic, per se. It has taken such long a time, a good two and a half decades since my inception, to lay my hands on the epic book. Well, as they say, better late than never.

My first tryst with reading the epic happened with ‘The Palace of Illusions’ written by Chitra Banerjee Devakurni. I can never stop thanking RS for her recommendation on this. This book is Mahabharatha told from Draupadi’s perspective. Although, after reading various other versions, I realised that this one vastly differs from the original, I still would rate it as an ‘un-put-down-able read’. It is more special for me simply because this kindled my desire to read the original and other perspectives of the great epic, with even more vigour. From then on, all my attempts were directed at reading the various versions of the epic.

I, then, laid my hands on was the literal English translation of the epic by Ramesh Menon. Menon, I have to agree, had done a wonderful job of giving the epic a contemporary writing feel. It was an engrossing read with all the details intact. Just that it spans over a space of a few thousand pages!

The biggest take-away from this book, for me, is the fact that I was able to form my own opinions on every character in the book. At times, I hated Krishna for his foul play. I wondered what a spineless creature some one must be to pledge his wife and brothers. I cursed Kunti for holding on to her secrets to save her pride, while seeing her offspring suffer abuse from his own brothers. Heck, I even sympathised with Dhuryodhan for the pampered way in which he was brought up resulting in all the ensuing actions.

I wanted to learn more about the epic and boy, was I glad that I laid my hands on Devdutt Patnaik’s Jaya. Given the kind of an unassumingly clarified yet strongly opinionated mind I possessed after reading Ramesh Menon, Jaya proved to be a God-send clarifying a lot of doubts. What we see as black is not always black. What we see as white is never always white. This seemed to be the lesson learnt from that book. I truly believe every one should read that book for a wonderful understanding of the epic.

After that, it has been Bhimsen. A completely different, yet a riveting and compelling read.

I wish to read a lot more of these – Mahabharatha told from every-character-in-the-epic’s perspective. My immediate pursuit, in this to-do list being that of Karna and Duryodhana. A lot of purists, if I can call them that, may not like the idea of distortion of facts from the original. Yes.. All these books from various character’s perspectives have this knack of deviating a little or a lot from the original, depending on the author’s imagination. I wouldn’t really dismiss them outright. I believe even the original or the one called the original is from Vyasa’s perspective. Facts could have been different. Right?

I love this epic simply for the various shades of grey it shows to us. I really can’t name a single flawless character in the book. If we look at it, that is how it is in real life too. No? The book, makes me analyse people from various perspectives. If Shakuni behaves in a certain evil way, he has a history behind it. I am not trying to justify the evilness in him. I am just trying to understand his character. Like we judge people with what is visible before our eyes, we tend to reduce this epic to having a simplistic moral of triumph of good over evil. To me though, there is no other book as complex as this one. There is no one good. There is no one evil.

Personally, I have no favourites from the book. I like Yudhistira for his calm, while I hate him for his haste. I like Bheema for his love, while I hate him for his uncontrolled emotions. I like Arjuna for his skill, while I hate him for his ego. I like Panchali for her will, while I hate her for stretching it too far. I am not very fond of Krishna, though. There.. I said it. I believe, if I am forced to tend towards liking him, it would only be for his discourse on life and death, popularly called ‘Bhagavad Gita’, which is the only piece of writing that has the capacity to bring me down when I am up in the air and to raise me up when my mind is floating deep in the dead of the seas. Nothing more.

Even after reading close to four versions of the epic, the two people whom I can still not get around reading about without a tear or two dropping down my cheeks are Karna and Abhimanyu. The two of them, who have gotten the rawest of the deals, across the epic are these. Every time, I read about Karna not obliging to Kunti and yet yearning for his brothers, I feel emptied. And well… I’ll not want to discuss Abhimanyu. Ever. (Even this one line has made my eyes water. Phew!)

I believe we’ve let this epic down big time by simplifying it beyond proportions. And I believe, now, is the time to start making amends. By reading and analysing and learning from this great book that teaches us about the complexities of life.

Letting go!

I am the perpetual cribber. Be it, in the blog or at home, I keep complaining. Constantly. This is the normal me. You can imagine when things turn from bad to worse. Bless the CH’s patience for putting up with me.

The last few days months have been pretty nasty with us.

First, my brother went through a series of hardships. (That reminds me that I am yet to post about his/its status here. Things are in the process of getting resolved at my brother’s front. I shall have both the problem and the solution posted once things get fully settled. Thanks for all your prayers and for the continued support.)

Then, it was Amma’s turn to be put to test. She had her own share of miseries and predicaments for no fault of hers. At one point in time, the conversation-starter between us, instead of the usual ‘Hi.. How is it going?’ was replaced with ‘Hi.. What is the new problem that has cropped up today?’ Yes.. You are entitled to laugh at this point.

At our end, ill-health of the kids ruled. And now, slowly, the kids are recovering. Or may be, we are learning to cope up with the kids’ sickness. We are gaining experience day in and day out, you see. And then, at the work front too, things took a nasty turn. Those I believed in, let me down. Those I didn’t, let me down, too. I hated the environment. I hated the work. I hated the policies. Or the lack of it, thereof.

It was at this time, that the CH brought home, a CD on dealing with stress. It had an old lady with animated expressions and acting, telling us, how we keep cribbing constantly. I didn’t like the way the entire programme was structured but I loved the message it had. It simply said, ‘Stop Global Whining’. There.. That made perfect sense to me at that point in time. I stopped whining. I realised we have some silver linings to look forward to, too.

We’ve finally completed our task of repaying the home loan much ahead of the target. Yes people.. We actually now own a house in Madras. We are now officially EMI-free.

The children are now speaking non-stop. Is this a big deal, you ask. Yes. A big one at that. I had great apprehensions about their speaking abilities. So much so that I refrained from speaking about it here except may be once or twice. Now, they are in full flow in their mazhalai but I am sure they’ll get there. **Knocks on wood**

After a lot of twists and turns and so many confusions, I’ve decided to let go. Of my job. Yeah right.. Good riddance to bad rubbish. (Although I am still at work serving my notice. One more week to go to be precise!) The work wasn’t exciting; so was the environment. And I still dragged on, because of the commitments I had and made, financial and moral. Now, I believe, the time has come to let go of it. And I did.

I know, for sure, that this unpaid-joblessness is going to hurt my ego much more than our pockets. I would miss the morning madness. I would miss dressing up in crisply ironed salwars and jeans. I would miss the rush that I would go through when I receive my pay cheque at the end of every month. I would miss my laptop. I would miss the Peppy rides across the city in the midst of the traffic chaos. I would miss the adult time I get at work. And, the list is just endless.

Only time will tell, if my decision is right. So, what will be my next step? That too, only time will tell. Heh! As of now, its time to rejoice. I am not a caged corporate bird any more. Yippe!

Memories of My-Mister-Nice-Guy

The world is abuzz with the news about the retirement plans of Rahul Dravid from test cricket. When he hung his boots from ODIs some time ago, I was not so moved. After all, ODIs have never been his cup of tea. Also, I believed his time-out from tests was a long way to come. Alas, I was wrong. And how! Had I known that the time would come as early as now, I would have been prepared with scores of hand-kerchiefs and rolls of tissues . As I watch and read tributes after tributes hailing the great man, I am overwhelmed with emotion beyond belief.

From the chocolate boy Jammy to being the go-to-boy of being the Wall, Rahul has been there for us. Every single time. Like every other crazy teenager, the door to my room was beautified with a perpetual Rahul Dravid poster on the outside. I have even gone to the extent of telling my close friend that the CH looks like my Mr. Nice Guy from one angle and that is the sole reason behind me agreeing to enter into wed-lock with him. Yes, sometimes, I can be that naive.

From the day, I began following cricket, he has been my hero. I am not a nuance-knowing-cricket-fan. I’ve never known the intricacies of the game. Then, he has been a one-stop-cricket-rule-book in a human form.

Even until today, I refer to my brother on any technicalities that the game has to offer. ‘Look at Rahul’s wrist’, he would say. ‘Can you see the slight wrist movement? That is called a flick. This comes only to a select few.’ Replay after replay, my eyes would be fixed on his wrist. ‘Watch his left foot move. This is the work of a genius.’ And my eyes would be glued-on to his feet. ‘That is called an off-side hook. It comes after years of practice.’ An off-side hook, my mind would register.

How do you feel when you go through a neatly written, grammatically perfect, well-meaning essay come from a high-school kid? That is how I feel every time I watch Rahul play. A sense of euphoria. A sense of calm. A sense of connect. A sense of pride. All felt at the same time.

Rahul has always played the role of a second-fiddle in the Indian team. Always. ‘There is no one to open the innings for India? Well, Rahul is there. No?’ ‘Sachin wants to open the innings? Rahul can come one-down.’ ‘We need a wicket-keeper batsman? Well.. What is Rahul doing?’ ‘Sourav is not available for the next series? Rahul can captain the team, can’t he?’ It is a pity that we have not streamlined his talent like we have been doing others’. He has never said ‘no’ all-through his career. Rather, he doesn’t really know how to say ‘No’.

Sachin, in his tribute to Rahul, has said, ‘There can only be one Rahul Dravid.’ Well, for once, I wish to differ with the Master. I wish we are blessed with more and more of Rahul Dravids. I believe that is the only way we can pay tribute to this selfless man, showing that we have inherited his qualities of perseverance. Of endurance. Of practice. Of patience. Of spirit.

Adieu, Rahul Dravid. Cricket will never be the same anymore.

School stories

One of the most dreaded words in the history of my schooling has been this. PTM. Parent Teacher meetings.

This fright is more on account of the uncertainty and anxiousness of what complaints the teacher would throw on Amma rather than getting scared about the marks. And for all that you know, I’ve always lured the teachers to believe that I am disciplined child. Yet, I have to admit that the meeting of the deadly-combo of teacher and the parent used to raise my blood pressure levels to extents beyond comparison. Well.. Now, that I am a parent myself, it is a different sort of an experience. Just that the blood pressure levels still continue to be on the rise.

I generally skip these PTMs at Keer and Kau’s school simply because I interact with their teachers day in and day out. And also because of my pathetic Saturday working office. Sigh. Last Saturday, for a change, I chose to visit their school on the occasion of such a meeting. The school’s curriculum have a theme for every month like food, transport, colours etc. The teachers were more enthused in showing me the arts and crafts the kids had done and also the demonstrating the skills which my kids possess. Well, for once, I was not bothered about any of these. In the midst of these, I kept asking them one standard question, every few minutes, paraphrasing it in various differing ways. ‘Do you have any complaints about the kids?’

For me, behavioural issues were more important than knowing whether a picture represents a buffalo or a cow. May be, in some time, I’ll fall into the rat-race too. Or rather, will make my children run the race too. For now, all I want to know about my kids are these.

- Are they sharing their stuff with others?

- Are they hitting/biting other kids just a means of showing their anger?

- Are they mingling with other kids?

- Are they self reliant like eating on their own, wearing as much of clothing on their own as possible etc?

I think for the next 2-3 or even 5 years, the answers to these questions will be my primary concern. Yes, I’d want them to know their alphabets. Their numbers. Their colours. Animals. Transport. And all of that. But all these come as a supplement to good manners. Or am I wrong in believing so?

*****

In Keer’s report card, we found a P.S to the remarks on the current month’s theme from her teacher. It read, ‘she has a beautiful smile’. I smiled.

*****

Kau has gotten this bad habit of spitting on every thing across the house – vessels, tables, shoes, even unused diapers. And the sad news is this behaviour is shown in the school as well. Sigh. I’ve tried talking about its bad effects. Coaxing him out of it. Scaring him. Diverting his attention from the saliva. Hmmm.. Nothing works. Any suggestions to change this?

*****

Today is class-photograph day at their school. Yesterday, while dropping the kids, H, the administrator (for want of any other relevant word to describe the nature of her job there) informed warned me that I dress them up WELL for the photograph. And this is how they went dressed..

All done

Well.. We do consider this WELL dressed. Don’t we?!

Auto-tales

Autos and I make a deadly combination. I mean, seriously. All said and done about their fleecing and faring skills, I still would like to believe autos are the most convenient mode of transport for cities like Madras/Hyderabad or even some of the larger towns.

I love conversing with the auto-drivers in Madras. The conversation would typically begin and end with the ever-ending arguments on the fare, of course. I have some standard non-answerable questions and non-questionable answers for standard phrases such as ‘Savaari kedaikkadhu ma’, ‘Adhu one-way ma’ and even the oft-repeated, ‘Petrol velai litre’ku evlo theriyuma?’

But, in the midst of all this, an average Madras auto-kaaran can talk in immeasurable lengths about anything under the sun – politics, cinema, life, power problems, standard of living, family and so much more. In about a 5 minute ride, I can strike a conversation enough to find out about the schools in which the driver’s kids are studying to which political party he leans towards. And to be brutally honest, I love such conversations. They give me err a better perspective about life.

Cut to the present, although I’ve been travelling via the 3-chakkara vandis so often, yet I find it too difficult to converse with the auto guys. One, I am a Telugu/Hindi illiterate. Even then, I do speak some ‘LoPaLa Randi’-s and ‘Yemi ledhu’-s to satiate my conversing pangs. The other reason is that I totally lack all the qualities of being a local, even though it is close to one year since we migrated to this land. A few Mahesh Babu songs here and there and knowing that KSR is behind the Telungana bandh alone does’t count for conversing with such intellectuals (No pun intended. Promise!). Right?

From what I’ve witnessed here in the last year or so, I’ve come to realise that we have been blaming (or rather stereotyping) the Madras auto guys with a vengeance; while this fleecing, even cheating is not so uncommon here as well. It almost always boils down to the person rather than the city/state in which they operate. If you need more examples to illustrate this fact, here they go. My grouses. My sad state of affairs. Of getting cheated.

There are very few metered-autos in the city outskirts where we stay. So, it generally is a flat rate. I usually don’t mind paying them flat-rates, as long as it is well within the ‘stipulated’ range. Once or twice, I’ve been in autos metered up which goes up to Rs. 70 while the flat rate ranges from Rs.80 to (mostly) Rs. 100. I am okay with this as long as I know the amount by which I am over-paying them. After all, they ask for it before getting into their vehicle. Some times, the driver demands a Rs.10 above the meter because they believe it is the outskirts from where a good savaari would be difficult to get. I oblige to this request too. But, what really gets on my goat is when some one manages to cheat.

Once, I was on my way home (from work) on a metered auto. Half way through, I knew there was something wrong with the meter. I was already late and the kids would be waiting for me at the day-care. Reluctant to argue for the lack of time as well as language-skills, I decided to continue up to my destination in the same vehicle. As I reached home, the meter showed a figure of Rs. 124. More than twice of what it ideally should have been. I was so overwhelmed with anger. I told the auto-guy that the meter is corrupted and not working fine. He didn’t speak a word except shake his head that it is not. I handed him a hundred rupee note, three ten rupee notes and walked away without even turning back. I knew I couldn’t argue. I also knew that the driver wouldn’t accept he was a cheat even if I ever did. From then on, I get a little apprehensive about metered autos.

One other time, I was travelling from my work place to a bank on official purposes. Both my workplace and the bank are located at buzzing locations, well within the city limits. One auto guy agreed to ply me on a metered basis. I had done some inquiries before hand and I realised that the cost should be nothing more than Rs.30-Rs.40. When I reached my intended destination, the meter was staring at me with Rs. 54. I didn’t utter a word but gave him a hundred rupee note. He took out three ten rupee notes as change. I glared at him and he took out another ten. I got the forty rupees and asked him for the balance 6 rupees. He looked at me as though I was begging him for some alms. I really wanted to curse him with all the swear words that I knew. But, I hardly knew anything of it in the language he could decipher. I was shocked beyond belief but was also tempted to pursue with my effort. I asked him for the change yet again. He simply mumbled that he would round off the 6 rupees and drove away. I stood there like a mute spectator still recovering from my shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes. May be, the one rupee could have been rounded off. I would have accepted a five rupee note. But, is India shining so much to round off Rs. 6? Really?

From my experience, I’ve never faced similar situations in Madras. Primarily, because I am always identified as a local. I even converse in the Madras-TamiL, if need be. Then, I also know that every one tries to take advantage of the non-locals. And it is the same situation in this part of the country too. I consider this nothing but a human trait. Taking advantage of the ignorance of the other. Sigh.

On a side note, if you are new to the cities of Madras, Hyderabad, Bangalore, Mysore and Coimbatore, you can log on to meterpodu.com, before taking an auto, to know the Government stipulated metered rates between two points. Personally, I believe this site is a commendable initiative for the non-locals. Simply because, it would give you a briefly quantified statement of how much you are fleeced over and above the stipulated meter. Heh. That’s the maximum that can be done. Right?!

I know you are dying to ask if this post has any purpose. (Not that the other posts I churn out have any!) For a change, it does. Anyway, the purpose of this post is to say that I am alive and kicking. Like I was telling Seema the other day, I’ve been having severe withdrawal symptoms from being away from the blog for this long a time (read, one week in total). As a result of this, my eyes are blurry, hands are shivering and am unable to concentrate on what I am doing. Let’s not take into account the fact that I am doing nothing at all!

I will be around in the blog world actively, for the next two weeks. And then, tan-ta-tan, it will be a vacation. Fingers crossed on that, though. More on the vacationing and other stories, later.

On a self-imposed break

See you in some time.

P.S. – Except for the withdrawal effects I ought to face out of this non-blogging-stint, all is well otherwise!

Disconnected thoughts

Recently in the news was a US$1.5 million compensation for a maid being tortured by the Indian Consul General.

I was all the while wondering if this could be true, et all. The fact is that I am a lot cynical when it comes to such kind of news. The head and the heart refuse to agree to each other. With the kind of education and social status that the person in question has, I wonder if she could ever met out such barbaric treatment to another human being. This is what a sane mind of mine thinks. While the heart has a completely opposite perspective. It believes that it is only because of such education and status that a barbaric act is committed.

Some time ago, we had acute shortage of ironed clothes in our house. The iron-wala who does the job had gone missing for a few days together. Also, he had close to two bags of our clothes in his custody while missing. It was a mix and match clothing week for me. While I was narrating this to a friend of mine, she asked, ‘Did you shout at him once he reappeared?’ I smiled. But it gave rise to a chain of thoughts. The fact was I didn’t shout at him. Why should I shout at him? Who gave me the authority to shout at a fellow human being? I asked the friend just one question. ‘Would I have shouted at my boss, had he been guilty of a similar kind of mistake? Or for that matter any mistake at all?’ No. Then, why alone this man?

We believe we can shout at or even raise a hand at people just because they are at a position inferior to us. In this case and even in the case of the maid-torture in the news, it is ‘social status’. By social status, I mean the rich-poor divide. We think we have the liberty to scream at the auto-wala. The waiter in the restaurant. The driver. The maid. The pan-wala. The potti-kadai boy. Just because we have a little more money than them. We are just trying to show we have ‘authority’ over another person.

Wasn’t the iron-wala at fault, you ask. Yes, he was. But will shouting or screaming at him make a difference? I don’t think so. If I shout at him this time, next time, he will automatically make a point to not repeat the mistake, is a point of view I’ve heard. I don’t think I agree to this. If I am making some one perform a task by using force, then how whole-hearted-ly will the person perform that task? Wouldn’t it be a haphazard effort that he puts in for completing a task? Instead, a firm tone stating emphatic facts would make a lasting impact in my opinion. And this firm tone can/should be used every where – be it the local bus conductor or the BMW owner.

In similar lines of showing authority is the fact that we cane/scream at our children. By we, I refer to both parents and teachers. We call/think it is disciplining. Actually, we are just instilling fear in them. Aren’t we? Also, how long can we sustain the fear is a question. And what purpose does fear serve? Zilch in my opinion.

Lets look at this with an example. My son loves to snatch my hot cup of coffee. Every time, he does this, I tell him its dangerous. He doesn’t listen. I continue this for some time. No respite. Once, I scream at him. The next time, he doesn’t do this, out of fear that I will scream/beat him. The fact is that he has not understood what is the outcome of playing with a hot cup of coffee. He still doesn’t know it will hurt him to do that. He is too young to understand even if I explain to him. His curious mind will always look for a way of playing with it when I am not looking or when I am not around. So, what is the use of instilling fear in him?

I am also not sure if respect could stem out of fear. ‘Respect should be earned. Not ordered’.

The other day, I was discussing child abuse with my mom. She said such kind of people who do it should be shot down. I wasn’t sure if I should agree with her. I asked her how that would help. She said it would induce fear in other people to not indulge in such acts. But, would inculcating fear alone suffice for completely eradicating such evils? Wouldn’t any one who would want to do it work a way out of the policing to go on with their job? Then, what is the way out, she asked. I don’t know, I muttered. At least this is a start point, she said. May be. But I am not still convinced that this is the right start.

How many of us stop when the signal light shows a red, even when there is no police-man around? Even in the so called sophisticated West, I still believe rules are followed only because of the consequences imposed. I don’t litter the place because I know the 9-1-1 is watching. I stop at red because I know the 9-1-1 is watching. I believe a lot of our actions is based on the dire consequences we ought to face. Not on the rightness (or wrongness) of the actions, per se.

In all the above scenarios, I believe what is required is a change in the attitude. Morality should be taught. We should realise that our actions would result in another person’s suffering. We, from our heart, should understand that we are wrong. Only then education is of worth. Some. And only then, we are fit to be called human beings.