The hardest job

Till recently, I nursed the illusion that school homework was child8217;s play. I had the habit of shouting at my wife on seeing clutter in the house when I returned from office. Whenever I asked her what on earth she had spent her day doing, she would humbly reply that she had been busy with the children8217;s homework. This irritated me, as I didn8217;t see homework as a very important or time-consuming task. One fateful day, I made a very silly mistake 8212; I told my wife to concentrate on keeping the house spic and span, and leave the homework to me. An impish smile appeared on her face.

I started my new assignment the next evening. Though exhausted at office, I entered my kids8217; room with a smile. To my surprise, both children were fighting and throwing books at each other. After attempting to pacify them, I asked my elder son to show me his homework notebook. He expressed his inability to do so, since the notebook was with a classmate who lived nearby. He slipped out to fetch it. I turned to the younger one. His notebook was now in several pieces thanks to the war that had just ended. I spent half an hour looking for adhesive. Tired and annoyed, I went to my wife, expecting sympathy. She was cleaning the kitchen while humming a film song, unmindful of my frustration.

Despite my growing impatience, I managed to find a glue bottle in some remote corner of a cupboard. I began to mend the notebook. I found doing so as difficult as the job our honest leaders have of uniting India. By the time I finished, I was almost fainting. Meanwhile, the elder champ had returned with his notebook. He opened it and pleaded for help. I looked at his computer homework and found myself perspiring. I flipped through several pages, hoping to be enlightened, but to no avail. I surrendered and referred the case to my wife. Thankfully, she obliged. I ran away and took solace in my room. I no longer shout at my wife on seeing clutter at home.