One evening, when we used to live in Dubai, my husband’s new colleague invited us over for dinner. This person had two children and we were a little confused about what we could buy for children aged 2 and 5. (This was before my daughter was born – because now I know exactly what a little kid will like!). Finally we bought chocolates and landed up at their place.
Bright, fake smiles greeted us into a museum-like home. All so propah! Nothing out of place. Paintings adorned the walls, expensive glass bowls full of pretty, dried flowers, scented candles flickering in a corner. I was impressed. I thought their kids must be angels – because out of personal experience, once my brother’s kids came along such a pretty living room ceased to exist in our home!
I mentioned as much and the hostess’ wide smile got even wider – if that is humanly possible. She called in her kids. They marched in with glum faces. Neatly dressed. Hair neatly combed. The girl was 5 and the boy just over 2. We handed them the chocolates and I thought they would grab and run – like kids should. But they politely took it from us and at their mother’s prompting thanked us with a smile. “They are so well behaved” I gushed.
“Yes I spend so much time disciplining them! Otherwise kids these days get out of hand!” our hostess admitted proudly.
“My daughter is really good with her brother – she helps me take care of him. In fact she is the brightest girl in class. Her teacher told me so. She can sing, dance and you know she knows all the latest bollywood hits! I’m amazed at how fast she picks it up. My son – you know by two he speaks 2 languages. All my friends are amazed…” and on and on the hostess went.
Somewhere at this point I spaced out and let my mind wander. It never fails to happen! Why do parents love to sing praises of their children? Why do they want all and sundry to believe that their child is the Lord’s greatest gift to mankind? That they can do this that and the other – better than a zillion other children of their age.
While I was thus contemplating, the children were called in again. The little boy was made to stand in attention “Woh wala gana gake sunao Ashish…” his mom crooned in anglicized Hindi. The boy grimaced. But got a stern look from his mother. So he dutifully sang
“Lakadi ki kathi kathi pe goda
Ghode ki dumm…”
It was cute and I listened enthralled. I clapped heartily when the child finished. However the boy was not to be spared. “Koi rhyme sunao beta” his mom insisted. The boy meekly protested. But got that glare again. So followed,
“Twintle twintle little star. How I wonder what you are…”
Yet again I clapped heartily. “Ab woh Hindi wala sunao aunty ko. Machli wala.” Momma was not ready to spare him yet. So:
“Machli jal ki rani hai…”
I clapped yet again and hugged the poor boy. But this seemed to embarrass him terribly. And he wailed in protest. His mom was ready to scold him – but I told her it was ok – let the child be. The boy was let off. Now it was the girl’s turn to perform. Bollywood songs were played and girl dutifully danced (Kalion ka chaman jab jalta hai– if you please!). Then she also sang “Jadooooo Jadooooo jadooooo jadooooo – aaj dharti se gagan ka…”(Hrithik Roshan is her favourite hero you know!)
I was getting rather tired of the forced recitals and my fake appreciation. Yeah the kids were doing well – but it was not spontaneous – it was so forced and it showed in the disinterested way they performed. I would rather have watched the kid jumping up and down on the bed singing and dancing. But of course I dare not suggest this to my hostess!!
Now that we had established that her kids were complete geniuses, they were let off. I sighed with relief for them!
At that moment I vowed that if I ever had a child, I would never turn him/her into a performing monkey! I would speak to him/her in our mother tongue - not anglicized Hindi or stylized English. (Incidentally these friends were Malayalees and their children did not know a word of Malayalam!) I would simply let the child be spontaneous. So that the child’s smile always stays in place (nothing tugs one’s heart more than a child’s spontaneous smile – I feel). I will not try to prove to the world that my child is a genius.
I’m proud to say today that I have lived up to the promise I made to myself. My child is not a genius. But she is an effusive, fun loving, healthy, happy child. A total extrovert and a spontaneous performer. Ultimately – that’s all that matters.
