It doesn’t take a ROAR

It is a useful perspective to hold onto as a parent. There’s not very much my daughters can do that I have not already done,I reassured myself. Their adventure-hunting father has covered the rest of the possibilities. I bit into some fruit-and-nut chocolate for added comfort,just in case.

Then came the time,when I began to find things in my daughter’s pockets. Crayons from school. Some money. A packet of biscuits in the drawer of her study desk. I stayed calm. It’s all right,all kids steal. I recounted to my husband that I once got home a whole classmate with me from school,just to check the outer limits of my power as a six-year-old. It’s no big deal. “It is normal for a very young child to take something which excites his or her interest,” Google coughed it up in .27 seconds.

Yet,there was the unmistakable soundtrack of panic galloping towards me. Despite my decisions to rewrite the family script,I must be doing something exactly like my parents,for my child to be behaving exactly like we did at her age.

A few weeks ago,I read the first excerpt from Amy Chua’s book,Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,where she explains how Chinese parents produce successful kids. Her bluntness and clarity was a hook,but I was also amused by the self-parody and the wry humour. I shared the article online. That is when I began to realise the enormity of what this piece was doing to its readers. It was dredging out anger,fear,self-doubt,judgements and passionate counter-arguments.

Describing how she pushed her seven-year-old Lulu to master a piano piece,Chua writes,“I threatened her with no lunch,no dinner,no Christmas or Hanukkah presents,no birthday parties for two,three,four years. When she still kept playing it wrong,I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn’t do it. I told her to stop being lazy,cowardly,self-indulgent and pathetic.”

Chua clarifies that her book is a memoir,the story of her own eventual transformation as a mother. She says on the cover of the book that she has been humbled by Lulu,who became cold and angry towards her.

Tiger Mom. At first glance,it may appear that the parent in the trenches with her kid is doing all the hard work,and lenient parents are just plain lazy. It may seem that her kids are soaring,while others are still playing in the mud,their potential unrealized. The truth is though,that it is easy to be a tiger. It is so easy to be a tiger. You are the boss,you set the rules,you roar. The little ones get in line. But not for long.

It is the Mother part that demands courage,as Chua is discovering as well. Parents make mistakes,they are vulnerable. They learn to back off and secede territory. They face up to their own baggage of hurts and seek healing. Parents need the courage to fail without feeling like a failure.

It is a complex web,this parenting. We source the design from deep subconscious wells,from our memory and experience. We repeat patterns from our own childhood. We are the agents of our culture. Chua decided early that her daughters would play the violin and piano and excel academically. She is the daughter of Chinese immigrants,in single-minded pursuit of praise and admiration in America. She is not sacrificing fun and games,she has no idea of their value.

Most Indians will recognise the type of tiger mom Chua is. The word love was never used in Chua’s childhood home. That sounds familiar too. It is no wonder then that she does not know her gentle side. Tiger parenting is a desperate model,perhaps it works in desperate times. When Chua asked her 15-year-old to suggest a book title,Lulu said “The Perfect Child and the Flesh-Eating Devil.” Sometimes,it is not so complex after all. Ask a simple question and you might get an answer that will reveal a lot.

Think of it as an extra-large jigsaw puzzle. The only way to begin to see the big picture is by focusing on the small details. Yet,everything one knows with absolute certainty can come apart in minutes. It hurts. So what? Happiness is not always fun. Sadness,not always unwelcome.

Self-esteem is another destination that Chua prescribes the route to. After being abusive,angry and pushy for hours,she snuggles up with Lulu after the child has delivered the results her mother demanded. The same Lulu has now given up playing music and plays tennis instead. Don’t ruin tennis for me,she asked of Chua. “Mine is a cautionary tale and I am the mad woman in it,” Chua has said in an interview.

My brothers and I were high-achieving children of strict parents too. When I was 12,I pasted an article in my diary. It was titled,“The greatest gift you can give your child: Self Esteem.” I don’t think I knew what self-esteem was,but I must have wanted it badly,because we were not allowed to cut up Reader’s Digest.

As an adult and a professional coach,I know that self-confidence is not something anyone can give you to keep forever. It is like a lake in the mountains that must be discovered again and again. Take the beaten path or make your own way,it is there for each one of us to find. There will always be fresh challenges on the way.

With three young children,we get enough opportunities to move gently,to stride fiercely,to trip and fall,to wipe tears and snot. Sometimes the chaos,the din and disappointments cross the threshold quite unexpectedly. One evening,at my parent’s place,I raised my voice and delivered some cutting dialogues to achieve a stunned silence from my kids. My father was watching. He will be proud of me,I thought. I’ll show him who is in control here.

Mum called me the next day. Your father was saying,talk to Natasha. Tell her not to be so harsh,these hurts are not easy to heal. Relax,calm down. Why repeat our mistakes?

The voice of Gabbar Singh whispered in my ear,“Socha tha sardaar khush hoga? Shabaashi dega?” So you thought the boss would be pleased,did you? He’d applaud for you. You scumbag!

I believed my father was the real thing,as far as tiger parents go. He was telling me differently. He spoke through my mum,yet something inside me healed. My father was giving me permission to be the change.

(The writer is a filmmaker,teacher and mother of three children)