Copy Cat Children

 

52. Copy Cat Children

 

We Indians have an obvious preference for the male child as the first offspring of a couple. And  the child should not only be male, but should  also look like his father. In song and story that sentiment may have takers. But how boringly repetitive the society would be if  all the children grew up to become carbon copies of their father or mother!  variety being the spice of life, the purpose of creation is not at all to make clones of people.

 

Seeing the mad rush of new gen parents one would feel that their desire is not to have children but to have robots as their progeny. A crop of little monkeys that jumped according to their commands.  The number of mothers  insisting on getting the best of everything for their children is legion. I feel pity for  nervous, fidgety  mothers  waiting impatiently outside examination halls, causing tension not only for themselves but also for their children. There is tension in every home having school going children. Maths is tough for my son. English is easy. I am now searching for a good tuition master, my colleague once said. In which class is your son studying, I asked in  full sympathy. First standard, was her reply. I felt like laughing but did not show it on my face. The tension and anxiety that grip parents have gone viral in all schools in India today. The parents have decided that their children, like horses with their blinkers in place, should move only in the direction they desired. This is equal to barring the inevitability of the laws of nature. Which way the children will take is their responsibility too. It is their innate wisdom and the specialities of their character that help them determine whether they should take the path of Abraham or Cain, or Abel. If an attempt is made to create robots out of them in total disregard to this, it will naturally lead to tension and personality abberations.  <<< Here add Khalil Jibran>>>

Teachers also abet such aberrations to a certain extent. At least some teachers are adamant that the students should  follow the path prepared by them. In Germany an exasperated teacher once told a student ‘you are an ignoramus in arithmetics. You would never get anywhere in life.’ We know who this student was. Albert Einstein who developed the theory of relativity. In England one student who studied in  local grammar schools and indulged in  poaching had to run away from home. The world  saw him later as  William Shakespeare, the greatest dramatist ever. Winston Churchill was written off by teachers as an imbecile. Abraham Lincoln, Edison, Charlie Chaplin, all are famous names. But none of them had completed education in the expected manner. If they had toed the line drawn by their parents, they would never have come to the positions they occupied in later life. None should draw lines for anyone. There are enough dos and don’ts drawn by society and tradition.

 

Freeing emancipation of the hapless children  who  are forced to waste their lives  by racing from one tuition to  another and from  the miniscreen to the computer has become the need of the times. It is essential to sustain and promote creativity among the children. When the children, who are to grow up  drawing lessons from the society in an atmosphere of give and take, are reduced to confine themselves to the cocoons created for them by their parents, society and culture also get enmeshed in the same measure. This innate characteristic of nuclear families  is having a bearing on human psyche as well. For the children of the past, the very mention of the word vacation was exhilarating. Time for play and games with children of relatives’  homes. What they lose now is the time to jump into the river to bathe, to  stone down golden fruits from the mango tree, to walk behind the temple oracle as he makes his rounds, to tap along with the drum beats during temple processions, to take part in the candle light march of the church, to help to make up the crib scene in celebration of nativity, to tell tales and to recite poems, see skits and indulge in pranks without being caught and to save the skin when caught.

 

I remember seeing a skit in my school days once. Think it was written by some neighbourhood boys during the summer vacation and   presented with the help of a teacher.

 

Scene-I. A young husband and wife are sitting in the foyer of their home and pleasantly talking. Then they see the mother-in-law coming from afar. To avoid her they take a domestic quarrel.  The husband appears to be in an angry mood and slaps his wife on her cheek.  The wife starts moaning in falt throaed ease.  Seeing that the time is not good for her visit, the mother-in-law quietly leaves the place.

 

Scene-II. Happy that the mother-in-law is gone, the husband says: ‘See, how I slapped you without touching you?’ A victorious wife beams: Heard how I wailed without getting hurt?’

 

In comes the mother-in-law asking with a mischievous smile:  Saw how I tarried without leaving?’

 

Isn’t it true that such farces and  skits give much more creative fun than the ready-made humour of the television programmes? When we watch television keeping only our eyes and ears open, what we really do is to shut down with a bang all doors to creativity.

 

It was not at all a habit in the distant past, especially in the villages, to pressurise the children in the manner of pressure ripening of fruits. Once the children were enrolled in schools the entire responsibility for their studies was vested with the teachers. The teachers considered even a minor lapse on their part as a major shortcoming in the discharge of their duties. The parents  did not bother much about their children except giving them an occasional chastisement. Their attitude was not to unduly worry about anything and to take things in their stride. Like that old farmer of Malabar. Once a black steed ran into his farm. It was beautiful, sinewy, well groomed. The villagers congratulated the farmer on his good fortune and said the horse must be worth several thousand rupees. The farmer was indifferent. Well, I do not know, he said ambivalently. After a few days the horse ran away in the same manner as it had come in. The villagers were sorry for the farmer. You could have sold it then itself.  If so you would  not have incurred such a great loss, they said. The farmer’s refrain was the same. Well, I do not know. A few days later the horse returned to the farm, bringing with it ten other beautiful steeds. The villagers again congratulated him, saying it was a good thing that he did not sell the first horse. But the farmer’s reply was the same.

 

Then the  ruler of the land, Zamorin, heard about the steeds  and came forward to buy them at the rate of one hundred sovereigns per steed, but the farmer turned down the offer. The villagers called him a fool, but his refrain was unchanged. Well, I do not know.

 

One day the farmer’s son   fell down from a horse and fractured his leg. The villagers found fault with the farmer  saying if he had sold the steeds to the Zamorin this misfortune would not have befallen him. But the farmer was non-committal. Well, I do not know.

 

Not much later Tipu Sultan, the Mysore tiger, began his ransacking of Malabar. The ruler of the land then conscripted all able-bodied youth to the army. Naturally the farmer’s son was spared because of his fracture. When the villagers congratulated the farmer, exclaiming ‘How lucky you are’ his response was the same: “Well, I do not know.”

 

We should realize that inevitability and unexpected developments are part of nature’s interminable cycle. It is only natural that  there are turns and twists and rise and fall in the growth pattern of children. Parents should not follow the children like shadows to prevent  the inevitable. Nor is it possible to make the children your shadow. Then why this meaningless shadow play? Fretful mothers should ponder this and find an answer themselves. Leave the children alone. Do not assume that they will go astray if they are outside your ken even once. Fretting mothers too were children once. Did they go astray then?