Who Said Casteism is Dead?

I really don’t know how and where to start this post. Much has been spoken about this topic by many writers, but the casteist mindset of people is still prevalent even today.

The Internet, in general, and Twitter and Facebook, in particular, have shown me how even educated people still stick to their casteist identities strongly. Caste-based handles and bios on Twitter, Facebook display names displaying one’s caste so blatantly—it’s all there in the social media world.

While the people of the city themselves have such strong casteist tendencies, it’s not surprising to see the same among people in small towns. I got to witness this personally last month when I had gone to Mantralayam for a cousin’s wedding.

I was at the ‘sathram’ having my lunch. The caterer was sitting beside me and having some discussion with another person. The conversation was in Telugu. The translation is below.

Caterer: The uggaani-bajji and other items we make cost Rs. 75 per plate.

The other person: Whoa! Really? Why is it so costly, man? We get the same thing for a much cheaper price at roadside shops.

Caterer: That’s made by maadigas. So there’d be a difference.

T.O.P: Ah, yes. You are right.

I felt really bad on hearing that conversation. I’d have taken it as a valid response if the caterer had said that the hygiene levels are low in such roadside shops. But he didn’t. It was the vendors’ caste that seemed to bother him more.

I’ve heard a lot of my relatives use the words maadigoda or maadiga munda so frequently while cussing at someone. During my childhood, I used to think it was just a generic cussword like poRukki or poRamboakku. It was not until a couple of years ago that I realized it referred to the name of a caste. That too was when I had been to the Chennai High Court regarding an accident case in which a few friends from school and I were the victims. A vehicle with the name “AAI Associates” and “Proprietor: Madiga” on it was what opened my eyes. And the vehicle was that of manual scavengers who clean up the city’s sewer system—people who regularly get themselves dirty in order to clean up our impurities. I first giggled at the appropriateness of the name “AAI Associates” for a scavenging service, but realization dawned upon me when I got to know that all these years, I’ve been hearing people use the name of a particular caste to refer to someone as inferior.

And that changed the impression I had on many people I knew.

There’s another incident that I must talk about here. This happened in 2007, the year I stepped into college. One day, we had some other lecturer substituting for one of our regular ones. I’d heard that this lecturer knew the subject well, but he wasn’t going to teach us any of it. He suddenly started lecturing on the varna differences mentioned in the Manu Smriti and justifying that Brahmins are superior and people of the other three varnas, especially Shudhras, were inferior. His substantiation was a sloka from “Purusha Sooktam”.  He went ahead with the Brahmins came from the Purusha’s head and Shudhras came from His legs crap. I hadn’t known much about the intensity of casteism in our country back then, but one of my best friends from college, Suresh, put up an argument with him. The lecturer had no rational explanation for the claim he made, but kept parroting that “The holy scripture says so. Therefore, it’s true.”

That’s another occasion when I got to know of the cheapness of the so-called high caste people.

And keep in mind, this is not the 18^th or 19^th century. This is the effing 21^st century when people are envisioning a world without boundaries and trying to make “One world. One humanity.” a reality. It is, therefore, really saddening to see such people live amidst us even today.

It’s really funny when a Brahmin says “It’s very painful to be treated as a second-class citizen in one’s own country.” Those are exactly the moments when irony commits suicide and vows not to return ever.

Yes, it’s not just Brahmins who consider themselves superior. Yes, the aforementioned caterer was not a Brahmin himself, but he belonged to another so-called high caste. Therefore, everyone shares the blame equally. But Brahmins should never talk about being considered a second-class citizen.

They are the ones who created the spark. So they should never ever cry that it has turned into a wildfire and started burning them in return. In one word, karma.

Another argument that today’s Brahmins put forward is “This is something our forefathers did. How is it fair to make us suffer the consequences?”

Well, let’s take the example of the Bhopal gas tragedy. Over 5,00,000 people were affected by a major gas leak that happened in 1984 in a Union Carbide factory. Though the exact death toll is unclear, most sources say it must be somewhere between 15 and 16,000 in the initial few days. But the tragedy did affect more than 5 lakh people, as mentioned earlier.

It’s been close to three decades since this tragedy happened, but people still claim compensation from the main culprit, Union Carbide. If you remember well, we Indians outraged greatly when Union Carbide said it’d sponsor the London Olympics in 2012. Now why do we still demand compensation from UC even after nearly 30 years? Because the impact has been very huge.

This is not very different from the impact of casteism. Why do people so strongly support reservation? Because the negative impact of your “forefathers’” casteism is great and long-running. People are still affected by it. Reservation is the compensation for those people who were suppressed in the name of casteism. If the victims of the Bhopal gas tragedy deserve compensation even after 30 years, don’t those who have been subjected to suppression for centuries together deserve it too?

Please be conscientious when you answer that question. Be objective.

I find it very painful when Brahmins say that they’re treated as second-class citizens in their own country. Just because they’re not being true to their conscience. 

Peace.

PS: You HAVE TO read the great Indian writer Mulk Raj Anand's "Untouchable" to really be able to gauge the kind of cruelty Brahmins and other high caste people perpetrated against the others. Do read. You won't regret it.

You Have Sight. Now Have a Vision.

What: Reading Sessions for Visually Challenged Students

When: All Sundays, from 10.30AM to 12.30PM

Where: PSBB,KK Nagar and Nungambakkam (annexe, near Vidyodaya School. NOT THE MAIN CAMPUS)

Why: Well, nature has given us the gift of eyesight, whereas some brothers and sisters are very unfortunate for not receiving the same. We can either carry on with our own lives or make it a bit worthwhile by investing a fraction of it in helping our friends achieve their ambitions.

What exactly you need to do: Just read out their lessons aloud for them. They are mostly Tamil/English literature students from various colleges in the city. [It's NOT compulsory to explain the lessons for them, but if you can, it'd be great.] Some students just follow the lessons, while some record them on tape. Some even take notes using Braille. Sometimes you might even be asked to write assignments for them.

What you gain: First and foremost, the satisfaction of helping people. There's no greater gain, IMO. Secondly, knowledge. You don't get to read for the same student every week. You'll be assigned to read out to a different student every week. Therefore, the chances of your gaining knowledge on different topics is very high.

What the procedure is: No procedure at all. Just walk into any of the two campuses on a Sunday morning (10.30) and tell them you're there for the reading session. The volunteers will tell you what you need to do, and allot a student.

Perks: You'll get a glass of tea and two biscuits around 11.30. :D And they also serve lunch for all after the session ends. Eating there or not is your personal choice. But trust me, the food tastes great. [This is how it used to be when I attended these sessions back in 2010. Hope it's the same now. Also, I've attended only the sessions at Nungambakkam. Never been to the KK Nagar campus. So I don't have an idea about the sessions there except the fact that they're held there as well.]

You'll get to know in what other ways you can be of help to these students once you attend a session. You can register your phone number with the organizers if you're willing to be a scribe, and they'd call you in case there's a need for scribes during exams. That's another great experience, I say. I had the opportunity of serving as a scribe once.

Well, I've summed up all the information required, I guess. Feel free to contact me if you have any other queries. Will be happy to oblige.

PS: The person who began this service has been doing it for more than 20 years. And I had the privilege of being a part of it for almost a year. I do miss these sessions a lot, and that's the reason I've been strongly insisting you guys at least to be a part of it.

The reading sessions have a break of 3-4 weeks when the students have their exams. You'll be informed of this beforehand if you attend the sessions regularly.

Also, there's a great demand for Tamil readers. So kindly attend the sessions if you can read Tamil well. தமிழ் இனி மெல்லச் சாகும் என்னும் கருத்தை உடைத்து, அச்செம்மொழியை வாழ வைப்போம்.

And do spread the word.

Service to man is service to God.

Cheers! :)

Why English Vinglish is a Must-Watch

My Twitter feed was filled with horrible rants last Saturday, thanks to the highly awful and one of the worst Telugu movies ever made - Repel, oops.. sorry, Rebel. But it took less than a week for balance to be restored, thanks to English Vinglish this time. I wasn't looking forward "eagerly" to watching EV, but I wasn't disinterested either. I went to the movie with a clean slate on my mind, and was glad in the end that it had written down a few important lessons for life.

It's a movie of how a normal housewife realizes her worth, and how she proves to people that she deserves respect too. Shashi, the lead character of the movie, knows she is talented. She is a brilliant cook and the ladoos she makes are in high demand throughout her city. But she feels bad when she doesn't get the recognition and support from where it's most expected - her family. Her English knowledge is limited, and her husband makes fun of it. So does her daughter.

However, things take a turn when she goes to the U.S. to help her sister out in organizing her (sister's) daughter's wedding. One bitter experience at a coffee shop makes her feel unwelcome at a foreign land due to her poor English, but she gathers courage and signs up for a course that assures English fluency in just 4 weeks. That's how her journey to a new land turns into a journey that transforms her life.

She is the most intelligent student in her class of seven, and everyone, including the instructor, start liking her instantly. The class, probably a tribute to/inspired by the one in "Mind Your Language" is filled with interesting people from different backgrounds.

I'm not going to give away any more of the movie's plot because I won't be doing justice to the screenplay no matter how hard I try to elegantly pen it down here. Seeing is believing.

The reason EV impressed me - and why I feel it's a must-watch - is that it's a glorious tale of feminism. Perhaps the essence of the movie lies in one particular dialogue of Shashi which means "I don't want love. I have enough of it. All I need is respect."

There are so many Shashis in the world. They might not be a part of the corporate world, they might not earn a hefty salary, but they're the most vital cog in the wheel of the family. In fact, the Ministry of Women and Child Development's recent proposal to make it mandatory for housewives to receive a certain amount of money from their husbands - for the regular work they do for the family - raised some important questions. Irrespective of whether this is a healthy move or not, there is no doubt that this proposal highlighted the fact that housewives' play a major but indirect role in the country's economy. In one way, they are unsung heroes too. EV touches upon this aspect. Housewives, if given the respect the deserve and the motivation they require, can do wonders.

The movie is filled with a lot of feel-good, as well as eye-opening moments. For some strange reason, I felt like I was watching a movie by Radha Mohan (the director of Mozhi, Payanam, Abhiyum Naanum and a few other Tamil movies) in the theatre. The characters are believable, and not just Sri Devi (whose character is inspired by the director's mother), all the other actors have a done a tremendous job too. Everyone can certainly feel proud of being a part of such a wonderful movie.

The dialogues are very witty and do pack a few heavy punches here and there. And if you're broad-minded and conscientious enough, you'll possibly feel guilty on hearing certain dialogues.

Unfortunately, EV comes with its own share of shortcomings too. One of those, and probably the most prominent one, would be the stereotyping of a few characters, especially the students: the Frenchman is a chef, the Tamilian is a software professional who is a self-proclaimed idli lover and Rajnikanth devotee, and the Pakistani is a cab driver. I believe we've seen a fair number of these portrayals in the media already. Gauri Shinde, the director, could have given a thought to this aspect.

Similarly, a friend of mine found the dialogue "The way you are surviving in India without knowing Hindi" objectionable. That's mainly because India is a multi-cultural country and Hindi is not the only language spoken here. But I guess the Tamil and Telugu versions of the movie might have different dialogues here. At least, I sincerely hope so.

But I believe these are just minor shortcomings, and do not affect the central theme of the movie in any way. As a movie that glorifies housewives and seeks to place them on an equal pedestal along with working men, EV strikes a chord with feminists, and strives to make people more broad-minded and considerate.


Trust me, EV is for sure a treat to watch. Watch it with an empty mind and come out of the theatre with one filled with insights on leading a happy familial life.

PS: It's heartening to see that the Tamil and Hindi film industries are coming up with many such thought-provoking cinemas of late, whereas the Telugu industry is still stuck with pointless and unbelievable heroism-based mass masala movies. Tollywood badly needs a reality check, and if it does not wish to undergo one, it can go fuck off.

The Need for Co-existence

Location: Avon Restaurant, Hosur Road, Koramangala

Time: 1 P.M.

Me: I’ll have one egg biriyani.

Friend 1, 2 & 3: We’ll have chicken biriyani.

Waiter: Ok, sir. 15 minutes.

[I should mention here that Friend 3 loves poking fun at random people in general, but also has a history of finding himself at the receiving end unexpectedly at times.]

Friend 3 (to tease the waiter): Aeeiinn.. Thoda ulli.. Illa illa.. Adhu enna da solvaanga?

Friend 1: Pyaaz.

Friend 3 (in broken Hindi): Aan! Pyaaz. Thoda pyaaz leke aao, bhai.

Waiter: Aen avlo kashta padreenga? Vengaayam-ne sollunga. [Why do you have to struggle so much? Just ask for vengaayam. (the Tamil word for onion)]

Me, Friend 1 & 2: Hahahahahahhahahahahahahhhahahha.. Bouuuuuu!!! [The same “bowwu” Dhanush uses in Why This Kolaveri Di song]

Friend 3: *awkward silence and sheepish looks*

Now, the reply (from the waiter) wouldn’t have caused embarrassment if it had come from a Tamilian. Not even if it were from a Telugu, Kannadiga or a Malayalee. But the fact that it was from a North-East person is what took us all by surprise, and made us roar with laughter the moment the sentence ended.

Further enquiry revealed that the waiter had worked in Tirupur for a few years before moving to Bengaluru, and that’s where he learnt Tamil. We were amazed by his proficiency in the language in that there was not a hint of non-native accent in his speech. He sounded very much like a native Tamilian. Unlike people who move to different cities to earn a livelihood and stubbornly refuse to learn the local language—and it’s a well-known fact that there are SO MANY such people in Bengaluru—this man made the effort to learn Tamil when he was in Tirupur, and made sure he’s a decent speaker.

There are definitely more such industrious NE people in our cities. Those whom I’ve interacted with so far have always been respectful and well-mannered. And, as their fellow citizens, we must treat them as our equals, and not as outsiders.

Now, there are some important facts about the North-Eastern states we must all know before we discriminate against people who come from there. I’m just using a couple of examples related to Assam here.

With an annual yield of 6,80,400 kg, Assam is the world’s largest tea-growing region. So the probability of your daily dose of tea—be it at home or at the tea stall—being made of leaves plucked in Assam is very high. Also, note that some tea stalls are run by Malayalees, which means the cup of tea is a symbol of national integration in itself.

Also, Assam is the hometown of India’s oldest refinery, the Digboi refinery which was commissioned in 1901. This refinery belongs to the state-owned oil company – IndianOil. There are two more refineries in Assam, one at Guwahati, and one at Bongaigaon. Again, there’s a probability of the fuel you fill in an IndianOil pump to be a produce of Assam. There is also the possibility of the Indane LPG cylinder you use at home for cooking being a produce of Assam.

Of course, IndianOil does have refineries at other states, and there is a possibility of our using the produce of those as well. That’s the level of dependency we find in our day-to-day life—a very important reason for co-existence.

Just imagine if the people of Assam try to create an indirect embargo on tea and petroleum trade to different parts of the country. It’d for sure affect normalcy throughout. The other states that supply their goods to the North-Eastern states can avenge for this through another embargo from their side. But it’ll never be of any use to anyone. The day we realize that we’re dependent on so many people for so many things in our life, and be thankful for what we get from them is the day we lay the foundation for growth.

We welcome the North-East monsoons wholeheartedly, but treat North-East manushans (people) in a very ugly way.

It’s time for us to change.

_______________________________________________________

Image courtesy: http://loveme4evers.wordpress.com/

Thanking Our Lucky Stars and Counting Our Blessings

I was struggling to get a better view of the road through the camera's viewfinder. It's not every day that you get to see wonderful sceneries on a highway, that too while the vehicle is still in motion. Viknesh was on the car's backseat, looking at the scenery to his left. Benjamin, wearing his 'cool' red sunglasses and cracking an occasional PJ, was driving cheerfully. 'Suttum vizhi chudare' from Ghajini was playing on the audio system.

Benjamin suddenly jammed the brakes and the Verna skid towards the right for a few metres, hit the median and turned sharp leftwards and descended into a pit dug up for the six-lane expansion project on the highway. Shaken and stirred, yet unhurt, all three of us got out of the car. A huge crowd surrounded us to check the scene.........

24/12/2011

The day our Christmas and New Year holiday commenced. All three of us were on our way home to spend the precious 9 days that made almost all our friends envy us. It was a bright day. The sun shone brighter than usual and we started our roadtrip around 7.45 AM. A Bengaluru-Chennai trip does not take more than 6 hours usually. But it took us nearly 15 hours that day – the reason, the accident we met with on our way.

Benjamin is not a reckless driver; he’s a highly responsible one. He does love speed, but he’s always in control of the vehicle. He reads Lakshmi’s (his car) mind and drives accordingly. But what can he only do when it was destined that a moronic and completely mindless lady with 0% road sense should screw up our day by causing a nearly fatal accident?

Also, it was Viknesh’s first ever road trip and he was looking forward to it eagerly ever since he knew about the plan. We were listening to Tamil movie songs on the car’s audio system and singing along happily. There were the occasional I’m-always-ready-to-race kind of drivers on the road and Ben showed them who the boss was time and again. Ben and I were determined to make Viknesh’s first ever road trip a very memorable one for him. We even put up our ‘Malarey mounama…’ performance, one of our most favourite pastimes, with me singing the male lines and Ben singing the female lines in the female voice – in this case, S Janaki’s.

Besides the fuel break at a petrol pump in Koramangala, the very long wait at each and every toll plaza and a brief pause for breakfast at a roadside eatery somewhere after Krishnagiri, there were no other halts during our journey. The journey itself was really smooth until a lady on a Scooty Pep with two kids crossed the road from the wrong side and made the whole event take a horrible turn. The ‘Wrong Turn’ in our lives......

Ben was driving steadily at a speed of 85-90 kmph because he realized that the car was consuming a lot of fuel at higher speeds. Just near this village called Elarappatti, he noticed a lady on a scooter with two kids crossing the road.

Now, let me tell you how she crossed the road. She started the scooter, rode a few metres forward, and stopped at the middle of the road for no reason whatsoever. Ben thought she was making way for us and steered right. The lady suddenly changed her mind and started the vehicle without realizing that she was crossing our path. This came as a bolt from the blue to Ben, who, just like Viknesh, was witness to the lady’s totally mindless act. He jammed the brakes because he had no other option. The car would have certainly hit the lady if he hadn’t done that.

The lady never stopped. She just sped away.

The camera slipped from my hands and fell near the pedals. My spectacles went flying and landed at the same spot. Unable to withstand the inertia, Viknesh automatically bent forward with his head almost getting stuck between the two seats in front.  The car came to a sudden standstill in the pit and the three of us emerged out totally unscathed.  I spat on the ground and out came blood instead of saliva. I had a very small wound inside my mouth. We realized it was the only physical injury any of us incurred and were glad that none of us got seriously injured. But Ben was completely inconsolable. He was broken into pieces when he saw that the front right tyre had burst and the impact had damaged the wheel’s rim and front bumper.

The highway maintenance team brought a tow truck to take the car out from the pit and the Verna had to be towed for nearly 50-60 km to Vellore, where the nearest Hyundai service station was located.

Among the people gathered around us was a highway patroller who saw the whole incident. As luck would have it, he affirmed the fact that the lady had caused the accident and that we had nothing to do with it. His presence in the scene helped us a lot in explaining the situation to the cops, who would later employ methods to extract money from us. Their cheapness became evident when they asked Ben to pay a huge sum of 3000 rupees as a bribe to give him the certificate required to claim insurance. Well, that’s another story altogether. But the irony is that the highway patroller was a policeman himself and was a very honest and helpful person at the same time. Duality is omnipresent.

The accident did give us a huge shock and traumatized us to a great extent. But in the end, we let perspective take charge and show us the good things that saved us from great peril.

What if the car had collided with the scooter? Three people would have died and three people would have been behind bars.

What if we hadn’t worn our seat belts? We would have definitely died on the spot or would have been injured seriously.

What if the highway patroller were not in the scene? It would have become difficult for us to explain our case to the police who would in turn try their best to milk money from us.

Finally, what if we didn’t have sane heads above our shoulders and a sense of humour inside those heads? We would have certainly found it very tough to cope up with difficult situations such as these.

Such infinite “what ifs” open up a myriad of grave possibilities that would have made things worse. Luckily, none of these “what ifs” took place and that’s the reason we are now counting our blessings and thanking our lucky stars for being on our side. That’s again the reason my belief in God (not deities, but a higher force that is above and within all of us) has increased. Considering the very next day was Christmas, it would have become much more difficult for our families if they were to hear bad news about their children. I, later, told Benjamin that he himself was the best Christmas gift his family got this year to which he nodded in the affirmative.

Amidst this chaos, there were other things that are definitely worth mentioning here – the importance of making people feel good, the joy of giving and the heartfelt blessings of a fellow human being.

There was a guy in the crowd, who, just like others, was inspecting the damaged car out of curiosity. He noticed that the car alone had suffered serious injuries whereas all three lives that travelled in it were unhurt. He said something that I’ll remember throughout my life. He said, “Neenga yaarukko romba nalla dharmam panni irukkeenga. Adhu dhaan ungala kaappatthichu.” (You have displayed great generosity to someone. That’s what saved you.) Read on.....

A few minutes before the accident, when we went to break our fast, a poor old lady, selling flowers, asked me to buy some. I refused and went ahead for breakfast. She came back again after we were done with our food and once again persuaded me to buy some flowers. I gave her ten rupees and she gave me a muzham (a forearm’s length) of jasmine she had. She told me that her business wasn’t doing well and asked me for ten more rupees. I felt bad for her and gave her what she asked. She blessed us saying, “Unakku romba punniyama poagum.” (May all blessings be with you.) I then placed the flowers on the picture of Jesus Christ stuck to the car’s dashboard.

I wouldn’t have realized the depth and sincerity of the old lady’s words if we hadn’t met with the accident and the stranger hadn’t spoken about the value of generosity. I got reminded of an old Tamil song that goes, “Dharmam thalai kaakkum; thakka samayatthil uyir kaakkum.” (Dharma saves your head; and at the appropriate time it also saves your life.)

Another lesson we learnt is on the importance of a sense of humour. Well, what has happened has happened. There is no way you can undo it. That being the case, what’s the point in feeling unending sorrow? Moving on is the only best thing possible. I got reminded of a quote by Kahlil Gibran: “A sense of humour is a sense of proportion.”

We also found solace in the fact that good people still roam the earth. The highway patroller, the maintenance guys from L&T and the mineral water can storehouse owner who offered us help increased our belief in humanity. We complain about bad people, but we fail to realize that goodness is inherent in all of us. It’s just that we let selfishness cloud our minds.

This accident definitely shook our souls, but there is no denying that it came along with its own share of lessons on life and living. Most important of all, I came to know about how making people feel good works wonders in life.

I turn 21 today and I’d now like to make a birthday resolution that I’ll always try my best to make people feel good. Even if I can’t, I’ll at least try my best to not make them feel bad. After all, there’s nothing we would take along with us on our final journey. Why make the journey of life miserable for our fellow human beings, brothers and sisters?

Life is fragile. Life is cruel. Yet life is sweet. Life is beautiful.

A Walk to Remember

It was around 10PM that night and I was taking a shower. Suddenly, my mind went back to a conversation that I had with my best friend Safwan on the 11th of September, 2010. We had gone to the Connemara Library and had our lunch at a small eatery nearby. Our next plan was to visit the then newly-opened Express Avenue. As is our habit, we decided to walk all the way from the library to the shopping mall. That is a staggering distance of around 3.5 kms.

My grandmother had passed away only the previous week, so we were talking about her and the funeral ceremony in general. Safwan lost his grandmother a couple of years back. He told me how nearly one thousand people had attended his grandmother's last rites and how much respect they all had for her.

I realized that his grandmother was unlike mine. Honestly speaking, I have never had a close relationship with either of my grandmothers. My maternal grandmother lived more than 400 kms away from us, so we couldn't visit her often. Unfortunately, though my paternal grandmother lived with us, she maintained a great emotional distance with us which made it seem as if she also lived 400 kms away from us. There were many reasons for us to feel this way. I don't want to get into details here though.

But then, I was pouring out my frustration towards my grandmother's ways and how she treated us when she was alive. Safwan listened to all that and asked me if I had heard of a particular story about a father and his two sons. I said I wasn't aware and he told me the story. It went like this:

A highly abusive and alcoholic person had two sons. He used to pick up fights in the neighbourhood and earned a reputation for 'pure evil.' His wife, unable to bear his atrocities, died at a very young age. The irresponsible father never cared for his sons and the two of them grew up on their own. The elder son grew up and became as abusive and reckless as his father. No one respected him and never wished to maintain a cordial relationship with him.

On the other hand, the younger son went on to become a mature individual who behaved responsibly and earned a good name in the society. He tasted success in all his ventures and everyone admired him for his determination and courage.

One day, one of the younger son's friends asked him, "Your father is the worst person I have ever known personally and your brother is the second worst. How come you alone are different from them?"

To this, the 'odd man out' replied, "My brother considered my father a role model of 'how to live' and I considered the same person a role model of 'how not to live'. That's what made me stand apart from them."

The friend was quite surprised by the answer and acquired some essential wisdom for life.

By the time Safwan finished telling this story, we had almost reached Express Avenue. I learnt a great lesson that day. You would have come across that lesson time and again in your lives.

The lesson is: "Everyone has something to teach. It's what we learn and how we learn it that moulds our characters."

Safwan and I have walked long distances on previous occasions too and those memories will be fresh in my mind as well. The reason for that would be either something humourous or unusual. But the reason to remember this particular walk till death is something worth cherishing. I had learnt a highly valuable lesson.

The Art of Parenting

“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.”

       - An excerpt from Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet”

I’m not sure how many people have read these words, or how many people have realized the truth behind these words through their experiences in life. But what I’m sure of is a major portion of Indian parents, especially those belonging to the middle class, would not even understand what Gibran conveys through these words. Even if they do understand, they would never apply it in their lives.

That brings us to the ever-raging debate of ‘responsible parenting.’ “India is progressing in many areas, but Indian people are not.” This argument holds good even when you consider the Indian way of parenting. Despite various rational explanations and realizations, this particular area is in a standstill. Most of the Indian youth still do not pursue their passions due to the overwhelming compulsion of their parents. Be it professional life, or personal life, it is the parents who still have the rights to make the final decision.

Going back to the Vedic period, children were sent to gurukulas, where they learnt whatever they wished to learn and attained excellence in it. Perhaps, that’s how ancient India had an abundance of skilled artisans in different fields, which eventually brought in a great deal of wealth to the whole nation. Children learnt what they wanted to learn and did what they wanted to do. But the present day scenario is diametrically opposite to the aforementioned case. Citing reasons such as financial security in the long run, today’s parents do not allow their children to pursue their own passions.

First of all, parents mainly think that children lack experience and that this lack of experience would not help them in life. So what? The child has so many years of life left. He/she would continue to learn till death. ‘No matter how hard you teach, anyone can understand anything only if he/she puts in the same effort to learn.’ Today’s advice-o-phobic youth wants to experience everything firsthand. While this may not be possible and advisable in each and every case, it is worth taking the risk in simple things.

The Western way of bringing up kids is quite commendable. The child is a part of the family only till a particular age. After that, one has to go on with life on one’s own. We may observe this wonderful trend among animals. A tiger raises and takes care of its cubs only till a certain age, after which the cubs become ‘solitary reapers.’ This practice is not restricted only to tigers, but can be noticed in the case of almost all animals. If that’s how nature wants things to be, why should we attempt to alter it? Precisely, that’s what Indian parents do. Attempt to alter the way of nature.

To be honest, we still live in a backward society. How can we call ourselves ‘forward-thinking,’ when the freedom and interests of individuals are not respected? Children should be motivated to live and do things on their own. After all, we live only once. Why should we convince and console ourselves if we can’t achieve our dreams? In fact, parents should be the first people to teach and inspire their children to dream and pursue those dreams. They should not exhibit any kind of negativity in their thoughts or words.

The matter gets worse when it comes to personal life. Most youngsters do not end up marrying the ones they love sincerely and wholeheartedly. Broken hearts, lifelong grievances and unhappy lives are what we find frequently due to love affairs that do not end in marriage. What kind of freedom is it if a person cannot marry the one whom he/she loves?
I don’t suggest that parents abandon their children and go on with their own lives. I only suggest that parents stop holding their children’s hands when the latter become 100% confident of walking on their own.

Parenting is an art. Perhaps, that’s why we rarely see a da Vinci or a Picasso amidst us.