Skip to main content

Parenting and sacrificing :



The worst thing in India (which is because I am not much aware of the other parts of the world) is this parents often glorify their sacrifices. It might not be a story of many houses but I have come across a recent picture of parenting which could not stop me from writing this. I see the parents using words, words which are very negative, words which make the  children doubt their existential importance in the world, words which are atrocious and cruel, words which have huge implications.

Though words are often said to be a way to purge the pent up emotions, it is asked not to take them seriously.

But I see the mother spitting on herself for being the mother of the children in front of the children. I see her cursing them and herself and for what? For certain things which the children do because they are children, because they are unaware of a lot of things which make their parents worried.  From my limited conversation with the children, I don't find them insensible or unbearable.

I understand parenting is an art which isn't for everybody, I understand parents are not any perfect creature who would be always right. I understand "love" can not be a universal factor from them to the children because they are parents.

But I also understand the children are the children, the children are their children. They need to be understood, they need to be loved, loved for who they are, loved for what they want to be, loved for what they cannot be, loved for what they do not want to be.
The children never, never, never deserve to be spitted on (literally), they never deserve to be treated as curses and they never deserve to be told that they are the reasons why many married couples don't wish for children.
They need to understand the sacrifices which they make and later frame their arguments on them are voluntary and also we don't really "sacrifice" for the people we love. We do them because we love.


I also understand that parenting is a social pressure. Kids are supposed to enlighten the house. The first glance on them makes them become a future doctor or an engineer. The popular schools, colleges and other institutions make them "their pride" to the society.

Among all these years, all these expectations, all these broken pillars and dreams the children relate themselves with the machines.

And hence the poetry of the generation is so dead.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Let love come to you

Let love come to you, in the rawness of its form. Let it walk, crawl, leap, but perhaps never rush Let love find you In a random seashore, in an old gift, a photograph, or a misty morning In the company of friends, in the quietness of a partner. Let love magnify your heart for someone Let love magnify someone's heart for you Let it make you one with their contentment, anxieties, and awkward silences. Let love come to you Don’t settle for empty labels or shallow ties Love can not be a refuge from loneliness. Let love be honest with you And you, be honest with love. For neither happiness nor sorrow, neither certainty nor hesitation Can bring you the peace that honesty with love can.
Post a Comment
Read more

Beautiful Sadness

If I could tell you that I followed you through the barren land  The decayed forest, the people less roads. I have followed you through the heavy wind  The ruins of the dead and through the void of my heart,  To see how far I can go  To explore what I carry for myself Because only when I can let you go  I can hold myself stronger  And through this quest for the ideal soul, which you were to me I have come a long way with myself  Through this quest for the ideal soul, which you were to me I have become one  The one I wanted to be I have become one, with the journey and all its atrocities  I have become one, that may have cost the deepest grief  The grief that permeates your heart, because you know you need it  The grief which you embrace with time The grief which my friend has called to be a beautiful sadness  Because it teaches you that beauty can be felt with both filled and empty heart
2 comments
Read more

Joy in a Nutshell

   The bell rang. We were to go to the field for Physical Education like other days. A long queue of students quickly snaked away from the oppressive textbook-laden classroom towards temporary freedom. The physical education class was our favourite! We would scamper around the field, play games, and sometimes deceive the teacher's eyes to do everything apart from playing the assigned games. 'Not all who wander are lost,' we told ourselves sagely.  The mango trees in the field were ripe with fruit, but we weren't allowed to take them home. So we would pick the mangoes up, scrutinize them carefully, and hold court on the difficult question of whether they were good to eat raw or as pickles. The squirrels and the cats were our field mates, although the squirrels would never bother to stay for a second when they'd see us. They were very quick to disappear into the trees. And the more they disappeared, the more they would fascinate us. I remember we would have discussio...
Post a Comment
Read more