Working six days a week, unlike five in most sought after professions, teaching is a demanding job. This is a sufficient reason for claiming a break once in a while. But, as you may realize, we are speaking of educational … Continue reading
Amidst peaceful silence, my mother’s meditation in the prayer hall of the colony temple was interrupted. Little girl, must be around two years, with chubby cheeks, gained freedom from her father’s tight holding fingers, and ran towards us to push my mom out of her meditation. As my mom, who just was shaken from a blissful state of silence, tried to figure out what was going on in the real world, the child innocently turned towards me. In my interpretation of what her eyes tried to talk to me, she said, “Have I seen you somewhere before?“. And so felt her actions when she touched me in different places before she shook hands with me. When all this was happening, my wife was cheering this kid, and I couldn’t resist but see a child in my wife too. All through this action, I still found time to spare some pity to my father who used the silent prayer hall and my mother’s praying time as an opportunity for a power nap.
The prayer hall had the idol of the god, Shirdi Sai Baba, in the far end with a sort of closed cabin with metal frames all around. It allowed a free view of the idol but reaching into God’s vicinity was restricted. The metal frames in the front portion had reasonable gaps between each vertical, for this girl child to venture walking through it. I guess she wanted to shake hands with God too. Wherever she went, she finally had to conquer her father’s protecting (restricting) hands, for which she had no good strength. But I observed soon enough that the kid was trying to make up for her lack of strength with persistence. The first time she was pulled back, she laid flat on the floor with her stomach to the ground, took a few deep breaths, stood up and walked towards God. The second time she was pulled back, she rested in her mother’s arms for a while, stroked her mother’s cheeks to find her freedom, and no sooner than her mother let her down, she began running for God. The third time she was pulled back, she was made to repeat, “Touching God is wrong“. She was put through an exercise of shutting her mouth with the pointing finger, as a symbol of conveying that she was making a mistake. She did that as many times as her mother did it, but was soon on her way to try her luck. Looking at all this, I am always left amazed at why god remains like an idol when kids like her come to meet; because, if I were god, I would be tempted to play with them.
In a whiff, I found that the sound of my wife’s utterances drew my attention in that rather not-so-silent prayer hall now. It was all in a joy of looking at the little girl moving in rounds in that rectangular prayer hall, not just providing different geometries but actually bringing some entertainment for everyone in there. My mom soon joined our conversation and we were talking about how cute that little girl looks. The next thing my mom says to us, “Pray god for a healthy and handsome kid“. My wife joined the chorus with my mom singing those prayers–some popular compositions and some my mom’s own. I actually enjoy listening to my mom’s compositions, but that discussion is for a different time. The little kid was drawing attention in my slightest wake in that prayer hall, and was raising interesting thoughts about my future role as a Daddy. More than that, looking at her, I was wondering if I was enjoying her play because I am becoming a Daddy soon, or was it just in how kids play with us. She was now clapping and stamping her foot in a rhythm looking to the ground and following the pattern on the floor. I was already eagerly waiting for her to make an eye contact. I wasn’t aware of this so much then as I am now, but surely I was.
Time is the worst interruption to most beautiful moments in life. I was soon thinking about the movie we had to go to, and we had only twenty minutes to make it to the theater. Brain is a wicked witch. It first reminds of the things that strip away joy from life, and then it makes me struggle to stick to the joyous moment I know I would be missing the next moment. A little confused with my feelings, and a tad irritated, I reminded my parents and my wife, who still had their attention split between God and this little girl, about the movie. May be God isn’t so cruel, or perhaps he wanted to make me feel better–the little girl’s parents left the prayer hall before we even made our effort to stand up to move out. Before leaving, the parents had the kindness to give us an extra moment of joy, when they brought the kid to us asking her to give us a ‘good-bye‘ shake. With smiles on her face, the little girl moved out of our sight. And we went to the movie.
The movie was entertaining; but that little kid’s smile, and the smile of the kids in my wife and my mom are still holding my attention. The space in my heart was supposed to be filled with peaceful silence on a holiday after a visit to temple and watching an entertaining movie, but my silence is peacefully broken by their smiles. I could consider having such distractions forever. 
He looked at the lifeless toy and clapped in excitement. It was perhaps the amusement of seeing an engineering marvel function in ways that his child brain could not grasp. He grew up to be an expert in creating such engineering wonders. No wrong if one thought he was passionate in what he does.
Years of hardwork went into giving shape to his dreams. His mighty machine was ready to work, to give light to the world, a new direction to science. Just like when he was a kid, all he had to do now was to push the button. His mind was on a high and his heart thumped heavier inside. With a minute long hold of breath he suddenly released, he pushed the button. The expectation of seeing his machine work was much higher than the playful act of assembling his toys expecting them to do something. Seconds after he pushed the button, he realized something was not right! His heart now thumped faster. Hands moved in all directions, eyes looked all around, brain wandered across years of effort to find where he could have missed the link to make this machine work. His feet felt lighter; trembling, his body was all down on his knees the next minute. Answers were not to be found. Their nature is to go missing when they are most required!
Sorrow, silence and disbelief took over for the next few moments. Fleeting emotions were hurting more than the hope that the machine might work if he just found something trivial he feels he missed. How does hope diminish faster when we need it most? All positivity in the world seems selfish that it runs away when someone seeks it. Eventually, rage took over his mind.
And just like a kid, in that spur of the moment, he hit the machine hard. Another moment of disbelief struck him as the machine began working its might. A few more fleeting emotions, brighter this time; and again, like positivity is selfish, when he did not seek it now, it comes back. The smile decorates his face. He walks away proudly, the winner.
One question remains for us. Was it his childish belief and his passion that made the machine work, or was it his knowledge of where to hit the machine that made it work? He keeps walking away, doubtless in his dreams.
Keep dreaming. Keep working.
Series of incidents since yesterday–I can’t resist sharing them here.
I received a call from a professor yesterday. She asked me if I knew what I should be doing today. Frankly, I did not know what she was referring to. But she told me that she told me what I had to do long back. I know I have a little problem with my memory in general, but my memory works efficiently when it deals with work. Fundamentally, that call asserted that I did not keep track of what I had to do. The reason behind that professor’s such forceful assertion–I guess or may be I felt–was to escape from that activity if I said I was not available, putting the blame on me, a scapegoat in the bottom of the hierarchy.
Lesson: It is easy to blame someone’s memory as poor, and hence him/her. Any argument to defend can be made to sound foolish if you are in the bottom of the pile. In how many movies have we seen tactics of the crooked to convince the society that who is innocent is actually mad.
In the course of a discussion with another professor, I got to know one of her experiences. One of her friends, who often keeps calling her, had one day called to share a happy news that he was awarded the ‘Best Teacher’ in his University. But the sad part of his story was longer; in that, his kid was being counseled by this professor for psychological reasons. And more painfully, his wife claimed that her husband uses lots of ‘psychological stuff’ on their kid, so that the kid does not have any problem. Now, this professor has an experience, and her friend has an award.
Lesson: Best outside, Worst inside does not really work that way. It ends up becoming a story!
I visited another professor at her residence after a long time. Just before I entered her residence, there stood a kid who asked me for a little help. He asked me if there were any doctors available in the surrounding area. I told him, I was going to meet one. But just before entering the professor’s residence was when it lit up in my mind that he might be referring to a medical doctor.
Lesson: Knowledge is a curse. It only confuses!
After that little fun in the last paragraph of this post, I have to reveal the activity that we were expected to do at Andhra University. A professor and me, a research scholar, were sent to that university where their admissions counseling was going on, to distribute pamphlets promoting admissions in our university. Just imagine having to make a first impression to a prospective student distributing pamphlets on road, and then presenting yourself as a faculty in the college! This happens only in my college, I guess. This act of our college best represents what they usually do, create paradoxes and argue their case. Here, it was a conflict they created between having ‘dignity of labor’ and having ‘self-respect’. If I were to argue that my being a faculty needs that I follow certain standard of living, then they would push the case to ‘dignity of labor’ side. If they read this post, then they might be cautious in pushing the argument to ‘sophistication’, suggesting that being a faculty and distributing pamphlets on road can be managed. The university may not know that a clerk of our college was hesitating to do the job that was given to us, but they speak management and run an institution. Let me end this post with just this case, before I am tempted to roll out too many!
Lesson: There is always a conflict when fools rule, to compromise or to challenge. But seldom, there is a choice. And life offers what?! May be more jaw-dropping questions, for which answering would make you feel insulted.
Life is really fascinating, and I mean it!
Don’t forget contributing to World Food Program.
It is time I understood the preferences of future generations. They would obviously be more intelligent; may not be well-informed, but are sharper than the older generations may think. At least that is what I have learnt from my experience. Below is the summary of discussions I had with two kids:
Aishwarya studies fourth standard in Vijayawada. She was playing at the IGNOU study center; her mother was my co-student there. We had to do an instant memory recall experiment using digit list. Personally, I think this experiment may not have too many applications and it is not appealing either. I needed a volunteer to be my subject and Aishwarya agreed to be my subject. She went through the test and scored well. After the experiment, we shared a good discussion for over half-hour. She wants to be a Music Teacher. And she is determined to be one. I asked her what she would do if her parents wanted her to be an engineer or a doctor. Her response was prompt–’they would not ask me such things. Even if they ask me, I know how to convince them‘. She may not be able to do what she claims, but at that moment she gleamed all confidence in herself. I asked her if she believed in God. Her answer was–’don’t you believe in God? I believe in him so much, especially Shirdi Sai Baba‘. I put a curious expression to know why, and she responded, ‘whenever I don’t prepare for exams, he is the one who ensures I pass them‘. I couldn’t stop my smile! She was a cute girl.
Her responses came from what I call as ‘cultural gene‘, more than what her generation should be thinking about. She was still confused about most of the things, yet giving deterministic responses–a sign of reinforced belief system.
Monika is studying sixth standard at Vizag. We were passengers in the same train on our way back to Vizag from Hyderabad. We stuck a discussion soon after I looked like I finished my reading exercise. She started, and I had the same set of questions for her. What would you become, I asked. She said, ‘Doctor‘. I asked her what kind of a doctor and why. She thinks and says, ‘I would either be dealing with hearts or I would become a psychologist‘. Her view of god was ‘God exists and therefore we are like this‘. There was a small difference in her case from Aishwarya’s. Monika was more open for discussion, again I think as a part of cultural gene, in that she comes from Kolkata originally; and exhibits having a wider perspective of the world. Her opinions were still taking shape and could be built in the right direction. She was emotional, yet rational too.
My inferences about these girls are a result of rather long discussions with them, and not their few responses I presented here. There are two things striking about my experience: first, it was thoroughly enjoyable talking to them and I could see the happiness in their faces too; second, it was enlightening because it tells us different aspects about parenting, how to and how not to. There is another dimension that I shall be aware of–that these kids make the future, and not live in what their elders created.
I wish to have more such experiences…
They were just two kids.
At the event of the day, they made-up themselves (disguises) look like Gandhiji. In the culture we are from, this is one way of begging. They occupied two different places they thought were populous. Obviously, the logic is to have more people throwing change (currency) in their aluminium bowl. I entered the event with a different purpose but these kids catch attention.
I pity god who could not really bless these kids with something more, something they needed.
The event was closing, and the entire attention was on the stage. Suddenly, something struck my leg. It was one of those kids. He fell on my legs. However, he and the other boy failed to catch anybody’s attention since it was the event closure. But some tentative thought in my mind forced me to look back at how and why this kid fell on my leg. The observation was stunning. The two kids were fighting to reach the best spot, the stage. They were trying to avoid the competition of one another.
And they were just kids trying to show Gandhiji.
But my mind had more concerning question. Did you get something too?
Could Gandhi be a solution to the perils of Capitalism?
