Tags:
Journalism of Courage
We hopped, we skipped, we jumped and we laughed our hearts out. We played Seven Tiles on untarred roads, hid under staircases and inside under-construction buildings when we played Chor Police. We panted as we fervently attacked our opponents in a Kabaddi game. We excitedly spinned tops and deftly struck marbles with our fingers. And if nothing else, we trudged up the hill in our ordinary chappals and ate blackberries.
Our mother never admonished us for this hectic physical activity, neither did she get embarrassed because we looked sweaty, dirty and unkempt at the end of the day. Even after we came back from school, she insisted that we play with our friends in the colony, till sunset, before getting back to homework. 8220;Don8217;t be a bookworm and never be a loner,8221; she would say.
These are not just ordinary reminiscences but treasured ones. Those which I have stored deep inside my heart. No amount of material wealth can match them, particularly as they come gushing to my mind against the backdrop of today8217;s urban homes. Because, when I see a dolled up boy with Reebok shoes, a mushroom cut, well-ironed jeans and a mother in toe, who guards her delicate offspring like a ferocious dog, I feel saddened. Saddened that God8217;s wonderful little creation which spells divinity is being tarnished with vicious colours of possessiveness and selfishness.
8220;Don8217;t run too much, you will get tired.8221; 8220;Don8217;t talk with that girl, she is too dominating.8221; 8220;Don8217;t play in the mud, your clothes will get spoilt.8221; 8220;Wait, I8217;m going to tell his mother how her son humiliated you.8221; These are just some examples of outpourings from many educated parents. Instead of looking upon them as individuals, instead of letting them grow in freedom with acarefree attitude, these innocent ones are embraced in bondage, no sooner is the umbilical chord cut.
From then on, it is a war of nerves, as the child is bombarded with tips, advice, admonitions and sugar-coated kisses and hugs bountifully thrown in, so that the child becomes what the parents want him to be. He is reduced to a mere puppet, having lost his individuality in the sea of quot;parental lovequot;.
He is protected from apparent hatred and rudeness which these guardians believe exist in abundance around their darling child and in the process condition him into becoming selfish, pampered, rude and even lethargic! Parents subconscious-ly play a game of one-upmanship and the child soon learns to manipulate things to his own selfish benefit.
Yes, parents, in their enthusiasm to give him the ultimate comfort, deny him of even natural physical activity and social interaction. They will buy him computers so that he can play colourful and violent games; but when it comes to interaction with the neighbourhoodkids, they surreptitiously watch with a pre-conceived notion of everyone else, other than their child, being bad 8212; out to hurt their creation it ceases to be God8217;s!
Yes, I forgot to add, how parents will stuff him with goodies and more goodies, under the name of nutrition and love. Result? You have children who have aching limbs even if they run 100 metres, who do not know what it is to share and care for their peers, whose resistance power is so low that regular visits to paediatrician becomes inevitable, whose puffed up egos are manifested in tantrums. They will never know the rudiments of fitness of the mind and body, which comes when you play with the neighbourhood buddies 8212; and not necessarily at plush gyms that offer workouts for the young ones.
Has the nuclear family phenomenon given birth to this nauseating mode of upbringing? Or is it modern-day education which teaches you to be a go-getter all the way? Maybe both.
