It was a warm morning, the sunshine gently caressing him, as he sat close to the window, his face trying to push its way out between the vertical round rods of the window. His frail soft arms trying to reach out and touch the neem tree standing close to his house, rather his grandfather’s house. He was five years old, and all these years he had been with his grand parents. The nice sprawling house, where he had enjoyed all of his infancy, but he was not sure if he really enjoyed it but he lived there, and all these years he lived the same way as today, his routine the same and unchanging, except that nagging question in his tender innocent mind, slowly growing in size. It was very similar to the balloons he inflated for his birthday, slowly but steadily growing. The child didn’t know why it was bothering him, but the pain wouldn’t leave him.
Every day he used to get up, his grand mother fondly waking him up, cuddling him and enjoying his presence and his innocence but unaware of that pain deep in the crevices of his grey matter or the depths of his heart. After all he couldn’t articulate it well, but his eyes were talking and alive but who pays attention to unsaid yearnings, when people cant listen to spoken words!!! She used to brush his teeth, gently comb his hair, as his grandfather came ambling back from his walk and sat on the rocking chair reading his newspaper, he would slowly go and sit on his lap, pushing the paper away. His grandmother brought his milk, and he would sip it slowly as his grandfather pampered him, caressing his hairs, feeling those tender fingers. The child slowly and silently sipping his milk, while seated on his grandfather’s lap , observing the neem tree. The day used to pass, with his shower which was the fun part of his day, as he messed the bathroom, turning things topsy turvy tiring his old grand parents, which they enjoyed, though physically they couldn’t match his exuberance of life.
Today as he sat , peeping through the window, his eyes slightly watered, for no immediate and apparent reason. His hands still stretching out and trying to reach the swaying leaf of the tree, which occassionally he would catch. Suddenly there was a lot of squawking from the tree, he strained his neck further trying to find the reason for the commotion, and there it was. A small nest, about ten feet from the window, nicely couched among the leaves not visible easily, and the mother sparrow gently landing in it was the reason. Two small chicks, with their pink necks opening their cute small mouths to be fed , and the mother sparrow slowly feeding the bits of food from its mouth and ruffling the feathers of the chics. As the branch swayed in the wind, unmindful of the lack of stability they were enjoying their mother, and her affection in fullness and probably they were trying to talk to her, explaining the events during her absence, and also probably asking her the reason for the delay….a small trickle rolled down the cheeks of the child, the longing for his mother, which he felt deeply but being a child never could express.
The week end was approaching and the whole house was suddenly getting noisy, noisy with activities of somebody’s arrival and he knew who it was. It was always a very pleasant experience initially but slowly the happiness waned out growing into yearning and indifference. His parents were supposed to be coming, for the weekly visit. Both the parents were working, with great careers in life. They were busy with their schedules and didn’t want the child to be left in a creche or with a maid, so the choice was to leave him with his grandparents. The intention was to provide him with a home and more responsible people to take care of him and at the same time they could handle their careers visiting the child every weekend without fail. What was once a day of rejoicing and reunion for the child was slowly becoming one of a painful ritual, a ritual which ended like any other, but left a scar in him growing deeply.
His parents arrived in the afternoon and as always came with lots of gifts and sweets. His mother gave her full attention to him, probably a deep ineffable sense of guilt (?) prevailed, a sense of longing in her which she couldn’t express, visible in her eyes. That day the child didn’t care for any of the gifts, he just hugged her, holding her tightly, and the mother slowly aware that her child was responding differently today than earlier. Why was it? Slowly she enquired about his well being and the child with his face buried in his mother’s breast let a sound of consent escape his soft lips.
Why… are u so timid today, are u not well? Asked the mother
Illai ma, am fine……… I want to show you something, and he pulled her to the next room to the window.
What is it that u want to show me? Asked the mother impatiently.
His grand parents were watching this , not knowing what was running in the child’s mind, to them it was a child with his mother happy and enjoying and they continued their discussion with their son in law.
Slowly he took her to the window, and with his soft tender arms pointed to the branch.
Anga paaru ma….
What? I don’t see anything
See near that branch, where there is so much leaves, see straight along my finger amma and he strained his soft little forefinger, thinking he could touch the nest and show her………
Slowly she could see what he was showing
Oh the nest, how cute isnt it? Two small chicks, said the mother, appreciating the beauty of the tender little sparrows
Amma..today morning they were very happy but now they are not. You know why? Their mother left them. She came fed them and flew away., that is why they are sad amma.
She turned towards him, no my child they are not sad, they are young , why will they be sad? She asked
Why amma, can't young ones be sad? They don’t know to talk but they also feel isnt it?
The mother slowly felt the pinch, and turned to face him.
Why chellam , are u affected by the birds?
No amma , I also feel the same way. Sometimes, I feel like crying, but I cant, I don’t know why…..but I think I know why amma .
What is this chellam , you are with thatha and patti , they keep you so happy take you everywhere, and appa and I bring you so many gifts everytime, we come, what makes you sad?
Amma , they give me everything but ……when I want you, you are not there? Enakku nee vennum.
Take me with you please, the child cringed holding back its tears, and still trying to maintain his composure. I know thatha and patti are kind and good, but I want to be with you.
I am your amma da, chellam don’t feel sad……..am here now isnt it?
You come and go, I don’t even know that you have left and I have to wait till you come, instead you don’t need to come at all amma, I feel so sad when you leave, so if you don’t come, then you will not go, and I wont feel sad………….the innocent lips quivered………
Amma, the chics spend more time with their mother than I get to , why me amma alone, my friends in this flat also have their mothers with them the whole day, but I have you sometimes but I don’t have my mother always……….
She hugged him close again, trying to avoid the discussion and carried him to the hall to be with the others. The child was quiet , not the same playful menace, anymore. It was like his sense of confidence was waning, the fact that he was not with his parents, kept coming up., but for some reason nobody ever discussed that among the elders.
To them , their careers were important enough, and the reason was to provide a better childhood for the kid. That’s the irony of life, to provide something better for your loved ones, you lose them a bit, then you provide for what you lose, but vain as we are, justifying or brushing aside a genuine question is easy, cos as cowardly as we are , our choices are never made from facts but from personal selfish needs. Further more, the grandparents , they always love the grandchild and are always ready to care for them, but is it not the responsibility of children to take care of their offsprings, and give their parents a certain level of easy life? After all we have a reason for that, - if they are willing then why not?
If we ever try to understand the child, will there not be a question of why am I left with somebody else and not with my parents in the child's mind? The lack of skill in a child to articulate is often misconstrued as tacit consent, but the turmoil in the mind is never looked into. In the formative years the child needs its mother and father for a sense of confidence, to develop traits and habits which can make it a more self reliant person in the future. Is a child a mere product of accidental copulation, where two single cells accidentally come and meet and grow? Does the child not have a right to be with its parents? If the mother cannot be a mother, true to the spirit of the word, then why procreate? Being a career woman is not wrong but don’t blame the child if it belies our expectations, after all it was our choice. When we cant give our fullest to it, then why………..me?, that’s the child’s doubt. Why beget a child? If marriages are for mere social status , and procreation to prove the individuals virility, then isn’t there a better way to do it than messing with the life of a flower? Will the parents, apart from the child be affected?
Why……….me?
Every day he used to get up, his grand mother fondly waking him up, cuddling him and enjoying his presence and his innocence but unaware of that pain deep in the crevices of his grey matter or the depths of his heart. After all he couldn’t articulate it well, but his eyes were talking and alive but who pays attention to unsaid yearnings, when people cant listen to spoken words!!! She used to brush his teeth, gently comb his hair, as his grandfather came ambling back from his walk and sat on the rocking chair reading his newspaper, he would slowly go and sit on his lap, pushing the paper away. His grandmother brought his milk, and he would sip it slowly as his grandfather pampered him, caressing his hairs, feeling those tender fingers. The child slowly and silently sipping his milk, while seated on his grandfather’s lap , observing the neem tree. The day used to pass, with his shower which was the fun part of his day, as he messed the bathroom, turning things topsy turvy tiring his old grand parents, which they enjoyed, though physically they couldn’t match his exuberance of life.
Today as he sat , peeping through the window, his eyes slightly watered, for no immediate and apparent reason. His hands still stretching out and trying to reach the swaying leaf of the tree, which occassionally he would catch. Suddenly there was a lot of squawking from the tree, he strained his neck further trying to find the reason for the commotion, and there it was. A small nest, about ten feet from the window, nicely couched among the leaves not visible easily, and the mother sparrow gently landing in it was the reason. Two small chicks, with their pink necks opening their cute small mouths to be fed , and the mother sparrow slowly feeding the bits of food from its mouth and ruffling the feathers of the chics. As the branch swayed in the wind, unmindful of the lack of stability they were enjoying their mother, and her affection in fullness and probably they were trying to talk to her, explaining the events during her absence, and also probably asking her the reason for the delay….a small trickle rolled down the cheeks of the child, the longing for his mother, which he felt deeply but being a child never could express.
The week end was approaching and the whole house was suddenly getting noisy, noisy with activities of somebody’s arrival and he knew who it was. It was always a very pleasant experience initially but slowly the happiness waned out growing into yearning and indifference. His parents were supposed to be coming, for the weekly visit. Both the parents were working, with great careers in life. They were busy with their schedules and didn’t want the child to be left in a creche or with a maid, so the choice was to leave him with his grandparents. The intention was to provide him with a home and more responsible people to take care of him and at the same time they could handle their careers visiting the child every weekend without fail. What was once a day of rejoicing and reunion for the child was slowly becoming one of a painful ritual, a ritual which ended like any other, but left a scar in him growing deeply.
His parents arrived in the afternoon and as always came with lots of gifts and sweets. His mother gave her full attention to him, probably a deep ineffable sense of guilt (?) prevailed, a sense of longing in her which she couldn’t express, visible in her eyes. That day the child didn’t care for any of the gifts, he just hugged her, holding her tightly, and the mother slowly aware that her child was responding differently today than earlier. Why was it? Slowly she enquired about his well being and the child with his face buried in his mother’s breast let a sound of consent escape his soft lips.
Why… are u so timid today, are u not well? Asked the mother
Illai ma, am fine……… I want to show you something, and he pulled her to the next room to the window.
What is it that u want to show me? Asked the mother impatiently.
His grand parents were watching this , not knowing what was running in the child’s mind, to them it was a child with his mother happy and enjoying and they continued their discussion with their son in law.
Slowly he took her to the window, and with his soft tender arms pointed to the branch.
Anga paaru ma….
What? I don’t see anything
See near that branch, where there is so much leaves, see straight along my finger amma and he strained his soft little forefinger, thinking he could touch the nest and show her………
Slowly she could see what he was showing
Oh the nest, how cute isnt it? Two small chicks, said the mother, appreciating the beauty of the tender little sparrows
Amma..today morning they were very happy but now they are not. You know why? Their mother left them. She came fed them and flew away., that is why they are sad amma.
She turned towards him, no my child they are not sad, they are young , why will they be sad? She asked
Why amma, can't young ones be sad? They don’t know to talk but they also feel isnt it?
The mother slowly felt the pinch, and turned to face him.
Why chellam , are u affected by the birds?
No amma , I also feel the same way. Sometimes, I feel like crying, but I cant, I don’t know why…..but I think I know why amma .
What is this chellam , you are with thatha and patti , they keep you so happy take you everywhere, and appa and I bring you so many gifts everytime, we come, what makes you sad?
Amma , they give me everything but ……when I want you, you are not there? Enakku nee vennum.
Take me with you please, the child cringed holding back its tears, and still trying to maintain his composure. I know thatha and patti are kind and good, but I want to be with you.
I am your amma da, chellam don’t feel sad……..am here now isnt it?
You come and go, I don’t even know that you have left and I have to wait till you come, instead you don’t need to come at all amma, I feel so sad when you leave, so if you don’t come, then you will not go, and I wont feel sad………….the innocent lips quivered………
Amma, the chics spend more time with their mother than I get to , why me amma alone, my friends in this flat also have their mothers with them the whole day, but I have you sometimes but I don’t have my mother always……….
She hugged him close again, trying to avoid the discussion and carried him to the hall to be with the others. The child was quiet , not the same playful menace, anymore. It was like his sense of confidence was waning, the fact that he was not with his parents, kept coming up., but for some reason nobody ever discussed that among the elders.
To them , their careers were important enough, and the reason was to provide a better childhood for the kid. That’s the irony of life, to provide something better for your loved ones, you lose them a bit, then you provide for what you lose, but vain as we are, justifying or brushing aside a genuine question is easy, cos as cowardly as we are , our choices are never made from facts but from personal selfish needs. Further more, the grandparents , they always love the grandchild and are always ready to care for them, but is it not the responsibility of children to take care of their offsprings, and give their parents a certain level of easy life? After all we have a reason for that, - if they are willing then why not?
If we ever try to understand the child, will there not be a question of why am I left with somebody else and not with my parents in the child's mind? The lack of skill in a child to articulate is often misconstrued as tacit consent, but the turmoil in the mind is never looked into. In the formative years the child needs its mother and father for a sense of confidence, to develop traits and habits which can make it a more self reliant person in the future. Is a child a mere product of accidental copulation, where two single cells accidentally come and meet and grow? Does the child not have a right to be with its parents? If the mother cannot be a mother, true to the spirit of the word, then why procreate? Being a career woman is not wrong but don’t blame the child if it belies our expectations, after all it was our choice. When we cant give our fullest to it, then why………..me?, that’s the child’s doubt. Why beget a child? If marriages are for mere social status , and procreation to prove the individuals virility, then isn’t there a better way to do it than messing with the life of a flower? Will the parents, apart from the child be affected?
Why……….me?
2 comments:
Beautifully written pieces. U sure r gifted with the ability to probe deep into aspects of life which many of us shy away from... & also articulate it well...:) Good going...
"Why Me" suceeded in making me guilt a bit... as i am one amongst the many who are part of the RAT RACE.... :)
thanks anonymous, but who are you, in case you want to write to me, at your own leisure write to sthiagarajan@levi.com
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