Snakes And Ladders
Mar 2 2007 | Views 3140 |
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Tags: Freedom Success Children Parents Relationship Darden John Denver
Tags: Freedom Success Children Parents Relationship Darden John Denver
‘Almost heaven,
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze
Country roads, take me home
To the place, I belong
Take me home, country roads…………………’
I was stunned at what I had just heard from the thing. The thing that sprouted forth from within the bean bag, his spindly legs lazily stretched out and his gangling arms leisurely holding a book. This was a familiar sight I had lived with for the past fifteen years. This was my first born. Only I never really knew how I could have missed out on the changing scenario of the names on the cover of the books that he held. It had started with Walt Disney. But the speed of the development from the Hardy Boys to Hobbit to Alduous Huxley had been so fast paced that my shrouded maternal eyes had tardily lagged behind.
I had heard of so many letting go moments from my friends and at such an early age too- moments when they had realised that their children were silently crying freedom. 'Maybe the parents are too possessive' I had told my husband then, ' or maybe they do not give them attention at all. Or maybe the atmosphere is not homely or maybe they fight a lot or maybe……' Oh! There were so many maybes…….but not one that would ever overshadow our home and not one that would let my children ever want to come out of those cuddling maternal clouds. But lightning had struck. With just one small sentence!
'Yeah, actually I’d prefer to go to boarding too’
.
The worst part was that there was no regret in that sentence. It was so matter of fact. I was shocked! Was this the same puny thing that had clung onto me, desperately trying to hide behind, afraid a gori teacher would whisk him away from the secure little world that I had created? No calendar could have revealed this sudden growth than that particular day. No clock could have reminded me of such a swift progress as that specific moment. No lightest of feathers could have knocked me down as that one sentence.
But why?
The worst part was that there was no regret in that sentence. It was so matter of fact. I was shocked! Was this the same puny thing that had clung onto me, desperately trying to hide behind, afraid a gori teacher would whisk him away from the secure little world that I had created? No calendar could have revealed this sudden growth than that particular day. No clock could have reminded me of such a swift progress as that specific moment. No lightest of feathers could have knocked me down as that one sentence.
But why?
'Because in Guwahati there is no competition’ my husband said.
'I'm sure Daddy is right’, my son said. ‘It’ll be good for my career. And don’t worry Mummy I'll be fine out there.’
That was again many summers ago. My son left to study in a Residential School Champagne
However I did not know that this was just the beginning of a never-ending series of welcomes and goodbyes. He completed his board with flying colours and came back home. He then went to Pilani. After that to Pune. He even went to Chicago
A few days back he was the proud bearer of wonderful news. ‘You’ll be so happy to know that I got a call from Darden’, he said ecstatically. Happy? We were overjoyed! The moment I heard I screamed with joy. I hugged him. However things started to hit me when his plans began to be unfolded. My new found happiness began to die a slow and painful death. Two years of study. Perhaps a few more years to repay the loans. And then what? He was not sure. Now I began to have mixed feelings.
Seldom had yesterday seemed more appealing to us- when we wanted our kids to mingle with the multitudes of faces in our lives- ‘Jack and Jill bolo beta’, ‘123 bolo beta’ and they were the shy reluctant ones that refused to unfold their petals. Seldom is tomorrow likely to be more joyful- when the kids want to mingle and lose themselves in the global playground and we are the ones who seem reluctant. Seldom will life be as it was- because now we would always be engrossed in a never- ending game of Snakes and Ladders. Our children wanting to climb those ladders that take them to their tomorrows. And we, desperately wanting them not to, hoping it would somehow aid in connecting them to our yesterdays. I don’t know when we as parents will realize or appreciate an important universal truth. That ladders spell success. And snakes spell disaster.
‘Don’t worry Mummy’ he says to me again. ‘I’ll come every year. Moreover, these guys have a wonderful graduation ceremony where the parents are also invited. I will definitely call you both there so you can see the Blue Ridge Mountains in West Virginia West Virginia
With picturesque promises of one ‘Country roads’ my son is leaving behind an equally symbolic one- those familiar paths to which he actually belongs. I have never been in favour of brain drain from one’s own nation but one has to decide with the mind and not the heart. The heart is but an organ that seldom sees reason. However, whenever I see the morbid interactions between some parents and children, even in one’s homeland, I feel a bit perturbed. Then I take consolation in the fact that perhaps it is better to live in distant lands and preserve the warmth of closeness than to live together and maintain a cold distance.
I also pacify my unreasonable maternal heart that in a sporting game of Snakes and Ladders, no matter which way the dices roll, if the bonding is perfect, an important factor will always stand out. After scaling every ladder, a caring child will constantly look below, wanting his parents to also climb up, to share in with his every triumph in life.
Needless to mention the parents will forever be waiting below to help their kids, if ever they lose balance or slide down the routes of failure. So I roll my dices and hope for a magical number. Or a sound one that will aid us in helping my son mount the ladder to success.
Needless to mention the parents will forever be waiting below to help their kids, if ever they lose balance or slide down the routes of failure. So I roll my dices and hope for a magical number. Or a sound one that will aid us in helping my son mount the ladder to success.
Nargis Natarajan.
© Nargis Natarajan., all rights reserved.
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