The other day I called an old school friend (someone I have known for at least three decades now) and with whom I have kept in touch quite closely despite the challenges life throws up. So, I call and ask what's happening with her. "What's new?"
She replies, "Oh, Rohan has just finished his exams. He says everything went well except chemistry. The chemistry paper was just impossible; the whole class thought so." Silence from my end. Then I say politely, "Oh never mind, he'll do better next time."
I try again. "What else is happening?" She replies, "Rahul, my older one, has sprained his ankle while playing football. It's in a sort of cast. The doctor says he can't play for another three weeks." I absorb this. Shamelessly, I decide not to pursue the details of the sprained ankle.
Before she launches into further details of the ankle, I quickly interject. "No, I was asking what's happening with you."
Silence at the other end. I can visualise her frowning. Didn't she just finish telling me that Rohan had finished with his exams and Rahul had sprained his ankle? She had pretty much summed up everything that had happened to her recently. What more did I want?
My mind wanders to another friend of mine who has dedicated her life to bringing up her daughter, a single child. Morning, noon and night. She wakes up in time to get her ready and drop her to school. She rushes home, does some quick yoga, gets ready and starts to make a snack for the child, something she has asked for that morning. She is there to pick her up in the afternoon just outside the school gate. Often, she carries the snack for her in the car since they have to reach the first class straight from school. After 45 minutes of Kumon, she must reach tennis by 5 pm and so on and so forth. If you want to catch her, do it before 9 pm because she too drops exhausted into bed by then, half an hour after she has put the child to sleep after reading her a story and the Gayatri Mantra three times. Meet you for lunch or coffee on a weekday? Perish the thought; she doesn't have a moment to spare.
Phew. I have begun to feel I was one of the most ignored children in this part of the globe through my growing years. We sort of grew up in a quiet corner, aware that we were loved and cared for, but certainly far from the centre of anyone's universe. Do I recall anyone ever asking me whether I preferred a muffin or cheesecake for tiffin that day? Not really. Do I remember anyone discussing or WhatsApping my homework over the phone with other parents? I'm afraid I don't. Was anyone concerned that we may be bored at a classical music concert or some cultural performance or even at home? In fact, was anyone ever concerned if we were bored? You're bored? Read. It was as simple as that.
Was anyone declaring that they can never dream of stepping out of town without their child in tow? They were jet-setting around the country and sometimes even out of it quite happily while the children were left to fend for themselves, often under the all too strict supervision of a grandparent.
Did any father, mother, maid or driver ever drive me to any class after I came back from school? For that matter, did I ever go for any class at all through my growing years? Maybe some really rich (and pretty spoilt kids) did go for some classes but who wanted to know them anyway.
I know now for a fact that we fitted in with our parent's way of life and not the other way round. An alarming number of parents today have stopped living their own lives. They live, breathe and eat what their offspring live, breathe and eat. If these children grow up being the centre of someone's universe for a large part of their lives, what happens when they are no longer there?
Disclaimer: If anyone I know happens to read this, I wasn't talking about you!
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