Parental Pressure

                                                              

 The machines manage to furrow my forehead which, under abnormal conditions of life without them, are quite capable of remaining crease free and taut ( Well! Almost. Baring aside the faint hints that reveal the number of years on this earth). The more apps, and social platforms and connections announce their arrivals with much fanfare, the furrows constrict till a headache comes blazing down. 

As if that was not enough, I now find myself in a serious identity crisis dragged in by the pinging deluge crashing through the smarter one. Of all the failed roles in life, the one role I thought I had managed to barely scrape through with passing marks, was that of parenthood. That feeling of relief lasted for as long as I could remember, raising my two with complete autonomy over their academics. I felt liberated hanging on to the mantra "your studies are your responsibility. I am done with mine."

And with that one stroke, I bought my freedom from hovering near their study table in the evenings, checking their notebooks for missed work, projects, assignments and all the paraphernalia that comes with schooling. Of course, they would find me around for serious doubts or discussions on ideas that made them wonder. But I drew the line there. 

Then the school decided to have Whatsapp groups for parents. And that's when I lost my confidence coming under serious 'parental pressure'. I wallowed in the fact that I had failed my children. The best mother award certainly would not come to me.

 A small voice inches its way forward,

 Was I even competing for it?

I push it aside.

Go away, silly! The fact remains that I did not do enough.

The voice is a leech, hanging on by the skin.

And what did you not do?

 That voice asked for it.
So I turn around and lash at it like a cyclonic storm  in the Bay of Bengal would hurl the waves onto the unsuspecting shore.

I barely lifted a finger after my child was absent for a day while the others were frantically pleading for the missed work to be whatsapped. Every evening there is symphony of pings, of mothers in a choir looking for the right answer for particular questions. Did I even bother to find out, what was in the syllabus? 

When the rest of the parental world, (some of them or all of them, I don't even know the ratio), was worried stiff about how much pressure the children came under when they had to submit homeworks twice or thrice a week, was I even concerned enough to voice my alarm?

The voice persists .

Were you alarmed?

No I wasn't, I agree, my voice dropping a notch lower. 

 I regain steam and continue flailing.

 I hadn't even noticed that I was supposed to be running a parallel school at home, noting down extra information, setting question papers. And then lamenting children have it so tough in life!

You did not? the voice asks in disbelief.

And the last straw that broke my camel hardy back was when the school sent out a consent form to be signed in the month of August for a school trip in December. It was to be their first out station trip! After seven years in school! ( If you are counting from prep, that is) It was a trip for three whole days!

You did not sign! the voice is excited.

No! I did worse. I was one of the first to sign!
So?
The voice is a little tired by now. Seems to be exhausted battling the pressure running in my vessels.

Where was my maternal instinct? My mother hen protection cackle? I did not bother to voice any apprehensions of the 'bachchas ' going without their mommies and daddies! And in a bus!

Er...it's okay...they are grown by now, the voice attempts to console but the tiredness clearly audible and its grip loosening over my skin.

How would they lug their trolley bags? The little ones! And it didn't enter my thick skull, the numbskull that I am, till someone pointed it out in the group.

The voice has gone silent.

And then like Tinnu's mother, my final wail goes up, WHY DID I NOT VOLUNTEER TO GO ON THE BUS TO KEEP A LOVING EYE ON THEM!

There is silence.The voice slumps and drops off as far away as possible from my skin.

Will The Real Mother Stand Up?

Courtesy    Free Photos

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         All the brouhaha has subsided and the declarations of love for the mothers and salute to motherhood have died down for the next 364 days. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against all the beautiful sepia toned snaps as status updates or the the notes of gratitude dedicated. I am, because I too have one. And I share her with two other siblings. And no. This isn't another one dedicated to one more mother. In fact, this post is to pose a question to all the mothers. You have had your share of limelight on the 10th of May and are mighty pleased with the attention showered by the worthy offsprings. There have been accounts of how youngsters have been emotionally blackmailed and threatened by the mothers to change their 'dp', status updates with the loving mom's snap in all social media or groups worth their bytes, short of probably fixing them on bank papers. Mothers too demand their pound of flesh to flaunt on wherever they exist digitally. Hmmm... just made me wonder whether the Mother India  avatar had changed with times. But no, that incarnation also comes in handy when nothing else works. More of that later.Well, actually these niggling thoughts have been plaguing me of late and what I elaborate on, may tantamount to blasphemy.

  Shall we recall a regular scenario of the neighbourhood park where you may have strolled in with the apple of your eye awaiting compliments at how well your genes have manifested. You have enjoyed all the cooing and the warm glances thrown at the bundle in your arms by total strangers. Back home when you have recounted the delightful little details to your neighbours or the others in the family, the comparisons cropped up. " Oh! When my Chunnu was this young, the entire neighbourhood would be fighting over each other to hold him..." In all those noddings and affectionate clicking of tongues, somewhere deep down a tiny bit of resentment crept in for having tried to hijack the attention showered on your darling. As they grow up and you get older, it only gets more obsessive. This desire to have constant spotlight on your own.  

   Or shall we talk about the time when your child was not selected for a competition or a race and that just didn't go down too well with you. Instead of saying " maybe he or she was better than you", did you say " let me go and talk to your teacher and find out"? Did you just plant the seed of cut throatism instead of striving for a healthy competition? Or the time when your neighbour's daughter got into the most sought after engineering college, did you badger your own to follow her footsteps? You want your own to stand out and yet you push them into a herd.

  And then you have sighed and recalled the great difficulties surmounted when raising them. The sacrifices made. The opportunities missed. The sleepless nights. The more you repeat the more the child grows up thinking what a tyrant he or she has been. The more he or she thinks thus, the halo around your head just gets bigger and brighter. And you have got them right there. Wound around your little finger, your creation is your entitlement. Never mind that they could have a mind of their own.  

   You would say, they are your own. They ought to be aware of every hardship faced by you in bringing them up. But then every mother is saying the same to their's. Tell me something... did the child beg to be born? Now, of course I shall not get into the details of their conception. The child came into this world because you wished it to. Well! When you did wish one of your own, but naturally, the onus of raising it lay with you. There is no  best way to raise them. How you raise them shapes them as individuals. I have seen mothers jumping into the fray when children are squabbling at play.
" Why are you not playing with my Minni?"
Children will play and children will fight. They will go back to playing again forgetting the past. Adults need to keep their eyes and ears open not their mouth. Do intervene if it gets out of hand but let them sort it out first. In most cases they do a wonderful job of it when left to their own devices. These are important life skills. The ability to sort out one's own issues instead of waiting for someone else to do the dirty job. If they have made a mistake, encourage them to accept it and make amends instead of conjuring a smokescreen of excuses. Most often the general perception is that your's is the cherubic angel who can do no wrong and the 'other' is the red horned devil. And this rosy tinted vision continues well after they have tied the knot and have had children of their own. Your child can do no wrong. Just step back a little and see that they are all children. There is no harm in embracing the 'other' child with all his little imperfections.

   Why am I saying all this? Of course there has been no dearth of illustrations borne out of your children's matrimony. Yes, yes the TV serials have only added fuel to the ghar ghar ki kahanis and the family politics theories.  The daughters-in-law are these scheming beings who  need to be shown their right places while the daughters are not to be taxed with unwanted burdens. The sons-in-law ought to be paying more attention to their wives while the sons should be advised subtlely to keep the wives in check. More so, because you have toiled hard to raise them and now the wife reaps all the benefits. This is the time when the Nirupa Roy and the Mother India incarnation comes in very handy. This play of power within the family will continue as long as people marry and refuse to grow up as individuals.

   The reason why I think on these lines is because the role of the mother is much higher than these petty skirmishes. In the light of two incidents in Delhi, all the mothers need to do a reality check. A mother allegedly incited and instigated her teenaged son to thrash a rash DTC bus driver who later succumbed to his injuries. Now the teenager's future is in doldrums. The mother forgot to learn and impart an important lesson " as you sow so shall you reap". Your actions and your reactions in a given situation will catch up with you sooner or later.

  The second incident was the 'bricking' of a traffic constable by a mother in front of her children. First the mother jumps the red light and then refuses to produce the necessary documents when asked for by the traffic police. She allegedly gets abusive and the situation turns for worse. And all this, in the presence of her own school going children. What a contradiction in the lessons learnt in school and lessons perceived in the real world! If the lady had any sense she should have owned up her mistake, shown her documents and paid the fine. If she had any courage she should have told her children that the traffic cop was doing his duty and that the law exists for our protection and safety. The children would have imbibed an important lesson in honesty, civic duty and courage what hours in a classroom would not have achieved. Most importantly she would have earned their respect.

   Is it fair to ask for a better world when you have not contributed in any way to build it? You may lament about the indifferent, callous and inhuman ways of the world but remember to ask whether you sowed  the right seeds. You may go hoarse telling the child the dos and the don'ts but they will register in their impressionable minds only what they see and perceive. So be a Real Mother and help your child to take the right step forward with a sound judgement. Don't tell the child. Show the child how you do it.