That day I was visiting a colleague’s home, chatting about this and that. Apu has an adorable little boy—about five or six years old, in first grade. He’s so charming to look at; his eyes are dreamy, and there’s something so utterly delightful about caressing his tiny hands, touching them to my lips. When I hold him on my lap, he just tells stories about the world. What this teacher did, what his friends say, how many toys he has, who bought him which one, who broke which ones… and so much more! His soft, tender cheeks make you want to pull them gently and shower them with kisses. His long hair is as soft as silk threads. It feels so soothing to run your fingers through it, spreading it out. I’ve always been able to get close to children very easily.
“Go away from here! Don’t disturb Uncle!”
“Let him be, Apu! He’s not bothering me.”
“Oh no, you don’t know—he’s very naughty. No studying, just mischief all day long.”
“He’ll study, he’ll study. He’s still little.”
“Yeah, I’m little!” (The little one curled up even more in my lap as he said this.)
“Quiet! No studying, just monkey business—are you little or not?”
“Mama, should I give Uncle chocolate? Where are the chocolates?”
“Smart enough to think of chocolate, aren’t you? You don’t need to give anything. Go away from here!”
He climbed down from my lap, grabbed his mother’s hand, and started tugging and pleading, “Mama, give it, Mama, give it. Uncle will eat chocolate!”
“Go away from here! Go finish your homework.”
“No, I won’t go. Give me chocolate, I really won’t eat it myself, I’ll just give it to Uncle.”
“You’ll get a beating, go!”
“No, give me chocolate, you have to!” And again he grabbed the corner of his mother’s kameez and began pulling.
My colleague suddenly flew into a rage and slapped her tiny son hard across the cheek. “Get out of here!!!”
Literally, the red marks of five fingers appeared on his small, fair, chubby cheek. Wiping his eyes with the back of his round little hand, he went inside the house. When I tried to take him in my arms, Apu stopped me, saying, “Please don’t encourage him, brother. If you don’t discipline them from childhood, they’ll completely climb on your head.”
“What are you saying, Apu! What does he understand? He’s still so little!”
“Listen brother, you’re not married yet, you won’t understand. They understand everything.”
“Apu, please don’t hit him like this. I don’t know if what I’m saying is right, but I’m saying it anyway. Please don’t mind.”
“No brother, discipline is necessary. He doesn’t study at all. Last term he dropped below ten.”
“It will happen gradually, Apu. He’s still so little.”
“Haha… fine, fine. Alright, let’s go out. Zahid bhai’s house is nearby—a five-minute walk.”
We were about to leave when I saw Apu’s little boy running from somewhere, cleaning his mother’s sandals and placing them in front of her feet, then standing quietly at a distance with his head bowed.
After such an incident, witnessing this scene was unbearable. Hiding my tears, I said to my colleague, “Apu, aren’t you taking him?”
“Oh no! He’ll stay with the housemaid. Hey Parul! Take him away! Make some snacks when your brother comes.”
This time I couldn’t remain passive. I pulled him into my arms and said, “Apu, let’s go.”
Downstairs, completely ignoring his mother’s furious glare, I bought him two Cadburys from the shop. With tremendous fear, as he tucked the two chocolates into his shorts pocket, he kept glancing nervously at his mother with a pale face. “Mama won’t say anything, sweetheart. Go home and eat these with Mama.” From that moment until we finished our visit and returned him to his mother’s arms, I saw clear traces of fear in his eyes and face. Perhaps something very frightening was waiting for him at home.
I have some questions for very strict mothers:
Didn’t you ever throw tantrums as a child?
Will your little boy really become spoiled if you indulge his wishes once or twice sometimes?
How did it feel when you were scolded or slapped in front of others as a child? Children have very sharp self-respect, you know.
Did you always come first or second in school as a child? Are you sure?? None of the world’s greatest people ever came first or second in school. Study their family education. Look into it—their world of learning was somewhere else entirely.
Who gave you the idea of making a man out of your son by beating him? When he makes little requests, couldn’t you attach some conditions? Like, you have to finish all your homework, pack your bag for tomorrow, drink all your milk, and so on.
When he shows love, do you have to remain cruel toward him even then?
Young or old, who doesn’t want affection? Everyone lives for a little love. How will your little boy grow up if he doesn’t receive affection?
There are books available on the psychological analysis of child-rearing; you’ll find plenty online too. Why don’t you read some! He might grow up with just beatings, but he won’t mature—I can say that with certainty.
I’ve shown too much maternal concern. Sorry, please forgive me. Let me mention a good book for mothers. Don’t children ask thousands of questions? Journalist-writer Adrish Bardhan has gathered such strange questions through conversations with many people and searched for answers in his three-volume book ‘Amar Ma Sob Jane’ (My Mother Knows Everything). I salute him for this extraordinary work. He took great pains to write this wonderful book. It’s published by Ananda in Kolkata, beautifully printed with good pages and excellent binding. I like to give this book as a birthday gift to children. Why can’t a child’s birthday gift also be given to mothers? A mother is born the day her child is born.