WHY HAVE CHILDREN?
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Why do people have children?
I don’t know.
In our case it was just a simple natural process. We got married [She, 21; I, 25], followed our biological instincts, let nature take its course, and in due course of time we were blessed with a delightful little bonny baby who became the cynosure of our life.
This was almost a quarter of a century ago.
Now it’s different.
I’ll tell you a story.
There’s this “successful” couple. Accomplished, ambitious, and competitive, they [She, 33; He, 35] are both software geniuses, exceptionally brilliant IT Professionals. Their hearts passionately in love, their heads fervently in competition, each trying to outdo the other.
They got married five years ago, after both had established themselves in their careers. They planned everything. First they would focus on their careers for a few years, strive for new zeniths and realize their dreams with their quest and passion for excellence, and then when they were successful and reasonably prosperous, they would plan their first child, so that they could give their kid the “best” in the world. Doesn’t matter, if this plan entailed periods of separation and long-distance marriage from time to time in the nascent years of their wedded life!
Their planning was perfect. They have just been blessed with a bonny baby. Just like we were, a long time ago. But here the similarity ends.
For he, the father, is flying off to the States, and she, the mother, is off to Singapore, to separately pursue their respective professional dreams, material ambitions, and achieve new pinnacles of success.
And their bonny baby will stay right here in their luxurious apartment with her granny who will shower her with all the “motherly” love and look after her with loving tender care.
And, of course, they will ensure that the baby gets the “best” in the world – the best comforts, the best toys, the best schooling, the best docs, the best nannies, the best care – the best of everything, except motherly and fatherly love.
Why is the mother depriving herself of the bliss and joys of motherhood? And why is the father distancing himself from the baby’s growing up process? I still remember the supreme joy and happiness my wife experienced when doing simple things like massaging, bathing, feeding, tending to and nurturing our baby. And I can never forget the matchless delight and fun I felt taking an active part in all facets of the baby’s development and growing up process.
Nothing can even remotely equal the unique joys of motherhood and fatherhood, and there is no substitute for it. And if they didn’t want to fully experience it, why did they have the baby?
Was it to just to prove to the world, or maybe even to themselves, his manliness and her fertility?
And what about the poor hapless darling baby? Will she never know what true motherliness and fatherliness are like?
Can a proxy, however compassionate, be as good as the real thing? Why go against nature?
That brings me back to my first question. Why do people have children? When their priorities lie elsewhere, and they don’t want to cherish the sheer unadulterated joys and thrills of parenthood and parenting.
Dear Readers, will you please be so good and enlighten me?
VIKRAM KARVE
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
vikramkarve@sify.com
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Monday, September 14, 2009
Monday, August 20, 2007
Lovedale - a short story
LOVEDALE
(a short story)
by
VIKRAM KARVE
Lovedale. A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations. On Lovedale station there is just one small platform – and on it, towards its southern end, a solitary bench. If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you, beyond the railway track, an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees, and in the distance the silhouette of a huge structure, which looks like a castle, with an impressive clock-tower. In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India. Many such ‘elite’ schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements, but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.
Lovedale, in 1970. That’s all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office and, of course, the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.
It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench. It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometers ahead - the end of the line. But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.
“I’m dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late,” the girl says. She is dressed in school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woolen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.
The woman, 55 – maybe 60, dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears, looks lovingly at the girl, softly takes the girl’s hand in her own, and says, “It will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”
“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time?”
“You know we can’t stay with her in the hostel.”
“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote.”
“Yes. Yes. She is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable; after all that has happened,” the old woman says.
“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now.”
“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai.”
“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away.”
“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before.”
“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy,” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl. The old lady closes her eyes in sadness.There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.
Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep u-curve, desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine, as it leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti. A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment. There is no one else.
“You must tell her today,” the man says.
“Yes,” the woman replies softly.
“You should have told her before.”
“When?”
“You could have written, called her up. I told you so many times.”
“How could I be so cruel?”
“Cruel? What’s so cruel about it?”
“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much.”
“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now.”
“Yes, I know,” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell her; how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive.”
“Baby! Why do you still call her Baby? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby”
“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby.”
“But I don’t like it! It’s ridiculous,” the man says firmly. “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them.”
“Both of them? My mother-in-law also? What will she feel?”
“She’ll understand.”
“Poor thing. She will be all alone.”
“She’s got her work to keep her busy.”
“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do the matron’s job much longer.”
“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see.”
“Can’t we take her with us?”
“You know it’s not possible.”
“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go? We can’t abandon her just like that!”
“Abandon? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here, I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her.”
“An Old Age Home?”
“Call it what you want but actually it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then we’ll shift her there.”
“How cruel? She was so loving and good to me, treated me like her own daughter, and looked after Baby, when we were devastated. And now we discard her when she needs us most,” the woman says, and starts sobbing.
“Come on Kavita. Don’t get sentimental,. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take her with us. Kavita, you must begin a new life now – no point carrying the baggage of your past,” the man realizes he has said something wrong and instantly apologizes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“You did mean it. That’s why you said it! I hate you, you are so cruel and selfish,” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.
They travel in silence. An uneasy disquieting silence. Suddenly it is dark, as the train enters a tunnel, and as it emerges on the other side, the woman can see the vast green KettiValley with its undulating mountains in the distance.
“I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all,” the man says.
“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything and we’ll do as we decided.”
“I was only trying to help you. Make things easier. I want to meet Damayanti. Tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything.”
“No, please. Let me do this. I don’t want her to see you before I tell her. She’s a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently.”
“Okay,” the man says. “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”
The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge. “Lovedale station is coming,” the woman says. She gets up and takes out her bag from the shelf.
“Sure you don’t want me to come?” asks the man.
“Not now. I’ll ring you up,” says the woman.
“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer.”
“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult.”
They sit in silence, looking out of different windows, waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.
On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale station the girl and her grandmother wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.
“I hate it over here. The cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC ?”
“DLFMTC ?”
“Days Left For Mummy To Come ! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home.”
“Next time you too …”
“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her.”
“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too.”
The lone station-master strikes the bell outside his office. The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left. There is no one else on the platform. And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.
Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30. The girl runs into her arms. The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile. The man, sitting in the train, looks cautiously trying not to be seen. A whistle; and the train starts and moves out of the station towards Ooty.
That evening the woman tells them everything.
At noon the next day, four people wait at Lovedale station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man. The girl presses close to her grandmother and looks at her new ‘father’ with trepidation. He gives her a smile of forced geniality. The old woman holds the girl tight to her body and looks at the man with distaste. The young woman looks with awe, mixed with hope, at her new husband. They all stand in silence. No one speaks. Time stands still. And suddenly the train enters.
“I don’t want to go,” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.
“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy? You hate boarding school don’t you? ” the man says extending his hand.
The girl recoils and says, “No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school.”
“Come Baby, we have to go,” her mother says as tears well up in her eyes.
“What about granny? How will she stay here all alone? No mummy - you also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai,” the girl pleads.
“Damayanti. I am your new father,” the man says firmly to the girl. And then turning to the young woman he commands, “Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave.”
“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay,” says the old woman releasing the girl.
As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train, for the first time in her life the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate. Like manacles.
“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise!” the grandmother says. But the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.
As the train heads towards the plains, the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness, a void.
And poor old Lovedale Railway Station, the mute witness, doesn’t even a shed a tear. It tries. But it can’t. Poor thing. It’s not human. So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness. A pity. What a pity!
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright 2006 Vikram Karve
mailto:vikramkarve@sify.com
mailto:vikramkarve@hotmail.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
http://www.ryze.com/go/karve
(a short story)
by
VIKRAM KARVE
Lovedale. A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations. On Lovedale station there is just one small platform – and on it, towards its southern end, a solitary bench. If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you, beyond the railway track, an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees, and in the distance the silhouette of a huge structure, which looks like a castle, with an impressive clock-tower. In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India. Many such ‘elite’ schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements, but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.
Lovedale, in 1970. That’s all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office and, of course, the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.
It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench. It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometers ahead - the end of the line. But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.
“I’m dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late,” the girl says. She is dressed in school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woolen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.
The woman, 55 – maybe 60, dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears, looks lovingly at the girl, softly takes the girl’s hand in her own, and says, “It will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”
“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time?”
“You know we can’t stay with her in the hostel.”
“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote.”
“Yes. Yes. She is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable; after all that has happened,” the old woman says.
“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now.”
“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai.”
“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away.”
“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before.”
“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy,” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl. The old lady closes her eyes in sadness.There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.
Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep u-curve, desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine, as it leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti. A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment. There is no one else.
“You must tell her today,” the man says.
“Yes,” the woman replies softly.
“You should have told her before.”
“When?”
“You could have written, called her up. I told you so many times.”
“How could I be so cruel?”
“Cruel? What’s so cruel about it?”
“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much.”
“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now.”
“Yes, I know,” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell her; how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive.”
“Baby! Why do you still call her Baby? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby”
“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby.”
“But I don’t like it! It’s ridiculous,” the man says firmly. “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them.”
“Both of them? My mother-in-law also? What will she feel?”
“She’ll understand.”
“Poor thing. She will be all alone.”
“She’s got her work to keep her busy.”
“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do the matron’s job much longer.”
“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see.”
“Can’t we take her with us?”
“You know it’s not possible.”
“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go? We can’t abandon her just like that!”
“Abandon? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here, I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her.”
“An Old Age Home?”
“Call it what you want but actually it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then we’ll shift her there.”
“How cruel? She was so loving and good to me, treated me like her own daughter, and looked after Baby, when we were devastated. And now we discard her when she needs us most,” the woman says, and starts sobbing.
“Come on Kavita. Don’t get sentimental,. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take her with us. Kavita, you must begin a new life now – no point carrying the baggage of your past,” the man realizes he has said something wrong and instantly apologizes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“You did mean it. That’s why you said it! I hate you, you are so cruel and selfish,” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.
They travel in silence. An uneasy disquieting silence. Suddenly it is dark, as the train enters a tunnel, and as it emerges on the other side, the woman can see the vast green KettiValley with its undulating mountains in the distance.
“I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all,” the man says.
“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything and we’ll do as we decided.”
“I was only trying to help you. Make things easier. I want to meet Damayanti. Tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything.”
“No, please. Let me do this. I don’t want her to see you before I tell her. She’s a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently.”
“Okay,” the man says. “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”
The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge. “Lovedale station is coming,” the woman says. She gets up and takes out her bag from the shelf.
“Sure you don’t want me to come?” asks the man.
“Not now. I’ll ring you up,” says the woman.
“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer.”
“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult.”
They sit in silence, looking out of different windows, waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.
On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale station the girl and her grandmother wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.
“I hate it over here. The cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC ?”
“DLFMTC ?”
“Days Left For Mummy To Come ! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home.”
“Next time you too …”
“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her.”
“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too.”
The lone station-master strikes the bell outside his office. The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left. There is no one else on the platform. And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.
Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30. The girl runs into her arms. The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile. The man, sitting in the train, looks cautiously trying not to be seen. A whistle; and the train starts and moves out of the station towards Ooty.
That evening the woman tells them everything.
At noon the next day, four people wait at Lovedale station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man. The girl presses close to her grandmother and looks at her new ‘father’ with trepidation. He gives her a smile of forced geniality. The old woman holds the girl tight to her body and looks at the man with distaste. The young woman looks with awe, mixed with hope, at her new husband. They all stand in silence. No one speaks. Time stands still. And suddenly the train enters.
“I don’t want to go,” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.
“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy? You hate boarding school don’t you? ” the man says extending his hand.
The girl recoils and says, “No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school.”
“Come Baby, we have to go,” her mother says as tears well up in her eyes.
“What about granny? How will she stay here all alone? No mummy - you also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai,” the girl pleads.
“Damayanti. I am your new father,” the man says firmly to the girl. And then turning to the young woman he commands, “Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave.”
“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay,” says the old woman releasing the girl.
As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train, for the first time in her life the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate. Like manacles.
“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise!” the grandmother says. But the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.
As the train heads towards the plains, the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness, a void.
And poor old Lovedale Railway Station, the mute witness, doesn’t even a shed a tear. It tries. But it can’t. Poor thing. It’s not human. So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness. A pity. What a pity!
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright 2006 Vikram Karve
mailto:vikramkarve@sify.com
mailto:vikramkarve@hotmail.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
http://www.ryze.com/go/karve
Monday, March 05, 2007
Parenting
HOW TO SPOIL YOUR CHILDREN
[and how not to]
By
VIKRAM KARVE
It seems to be in thing today to have spoilt children. I was a strict old-fashioned father, but looking around, I have realized that in today’s world, where materialistic desires overshadow traditional values, my ascetic style of parenting is hopelessly outmoded and distinctly passé. It’s too late for me to change now, so let me pontificate a bit on what I did not do.
Apart from the conventional vices like drinking, smoking, drugs, gambling etc, all types of new and novel temptations and addictions like Internet, Gaming, TV, sex, compulsive spending and shopping, indulging in wild reckless behaviour, breaking the law and criminal thrills are on the rise and indeed becoming status symbols in some sections of society. There is plenty of choice available for those who want to “live it up”. For children in today’s consumerist society there is no place for concepts of thrift and frugality and conspicuous consumption and expensive lifestyles are more important. Pamper your kids, pander to all their whims and fancies and they will love you; and, of course, in the long run they will ruin their own lives and cause you distress.
If you want to spoil your children remember there are four factors or resources that help develop and nurture bad habits, addictions and anti-social behaviour: TIME, INCLINATION, OPPORTUNITY, MONEY.
TIME: One must have time to indulge in whatever one’s pursuits, good or bad. So, if you want to spoil your children, don’t burden them with too many “mundane” things like studies, sports, hobbies etc so that they have plenty of leisure time to live it up and pursue their temptations to their heart’s content.
INCLINATION: This depends on your sense of values, home and family atmosphere, social environment, religious and cultural taboos, peer pressure, influence of school and friends. Are you inculcating the right values in your kids by your own actions?
I’ll give a real life example. My friend’s son, age 15, lost his expensive mobile cell-phone forgetting it in a taxi due to his own carelessness and negligence. Instead of admonishing him, my friend bought him the latest, even more expensive and fancy cell-phone. Obviously the boy had no remorse, guilt or regret at losing the expensive gadget, and instead of feeling contrite and responsible, displayed a “couldn’t care” attitude. Can one even expect such actions of parents to inculcate the correct values of thrift, frugality and responsibility in their children? If you drink, smoke, and party in front of your children, won’t they be inclined to do the same? How about your friends, your kids’ friends, their behaviour, and the general atmosphere and culture around? What are your own values? If you’re going to “live it up”, flaunt your lifestyle, be corrupt and dishonest, your kids will be inclined to do so too!
OPPORTUNITY: You have the Time, you have the Inclination, but do you have the opportunity to do what you want to do? Suppose you want to drink, but there is prohibition in force? Or religious, social, cultural taboos which do not give you the opportunity to drink? Opportunity to indulge in an activity is governed by external circumstances, rules and regulations, which either inhibits or makes it conducive for you to do what you want. Enforcement of restrictions like No-Smoking Zones, Prohibition, No Entry into Bars and Pubs for Kids inhibit opportunity. Or do you want to give your kids a laissez faire opportunity to do what they want?
MONEY: If you want to spoil your children make sure you give them plenty of money to splurge and to do as they please. “Vices” and profligate lifestyles are expensive, you know? Give them the latest gadgets and gizmos, cars and bikes, pander to all their whims and fancies, and never ask them to account for their extravagant spending. You’ve open-mindedly given your kids the time, the inclination, and the opportunity, but finally it’s the money that matters! It’s money that helps them sustain their vices and habits.
So go ahead, spoil your kids if you want to; but if you don’t want to, you know what to do, don’t you? Just remember the four key factors – Monitor their Time, give them the proper Inclination in life, restrict their Opportunity for undesirable activities, and, last but not the least, keep a tight leash on their Money.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
[and how not to]
By
VIKRAM KARVE
It seems to be in thing today to have spoilt children. I was a strict old-fashioned father, but looking around, I have realized that in today’s world, where materialistic desires overshadow traditional values, my ascetic style of parenting is hopelessly outmoded and distinctly passé. It’s too late for me to change now, so let me pontificate a bit on what I did not do.
Apart from the conventional vices like drinking, smoking, drugs, gambling etc, all types of new and novel temptations and addictions like Internet, Gaming, TV, sex, compulsive spending and shopping, indulging in wild reckless behaviour, breaking the law and criminal thrills are on the rise and indeed becoming status symbols in some sections of society. There is plenty of choice available for those who want to “live it up”. For children in today’s consumerist society there is no place for concepts of thrift and frugality and conspicuous consumption and expensive lifestyles are more important. Pamper your kids, pander to all their whims and fancies and they will love you; and, of course, in the long run they will ruin their own lives and cause you distress.
If you want to spoil your children remember there are four factors or resources that help develop and nurture bad habits, addictions and anti-social behaviour: TIME, INCLINATION, OPPORTUNITY, MONEY.
TIME: One must have time to indulge in whatever one’s pursuits, good or bad. So, if you want to spoil your children, don’t burden them with too many “mundane” things like studies, sports, hobbies etc so that they have plenty of leisure time to live it up and pursue their temptations to their heart’s content.
INCLINATION: This depends on your sense of values, home and family atmosphere, social environment, religious and cultural taboos, peer pressure, influence of school and friends. Are you inculcating the right values in your kids by your own actions?
I’ll give a real life example. My friend’s son, age 15, lost his expensive mobile cell-phone forgetting it in a taxi due to his own carelessness and negligence. Instead of admonishing him, my friend bought him the latest, even more expensive and fancy cell-phone. Obviously the boy had no remorse, guilt or regret at losing the expensive gadget, and instead of feeling contrite and responsible, displayed a “couldn’t care” attitude. Can one even expect such actions of parents to inculcate the correct values of thrift, frugality and responsibility in their children? If you drink, smoke, and party in front of your children, won’t they be inclined to do the same? How about your friends, your kids’ friends, their behaviour, and the general atmosphere and culture around? What are your own values? If you’re going to “live it up”, flaunt your lifestyle, be corrupt and dishonest, your kids will be inclined to do so too!
OPPORTUNITY: You have the Time, you have the Inclination, but do you have the opportunity to do what you want to do? Suppose you want to drink, but there is prohibition in force? Or religious, social, cultural taboos which do not give you the opportunity to drink? Opportunity to indulge in an activity is governed by external circumstances, rules and regulations, which either inhibits or makes it conducive for you to do what you want. Enforcement of restrictions like No-Smoking Zones, Prohibition, No Entry into Bars and Pubs for Kids inhibit opportunity. Or do you want to give your kids a laissez faire opportunity to do what they want?
MONEY: If you want to spoil your children make sure you give them plenty of money to splurge and to do as they please. “Vices” and profligate lifestyles are expensive, you know? Give them the latest gadgets and gizmos, cars and bikes, pander to all their whims and fancies, and never ask them to account for their extravagant spending. You’ve open-mindedly given your kids the time, the inclination, and the opportunity, but finally it’s the money that matters! It’s money that helps them sustain their vices and habits.
So go ahead, spoil your kids if you want to; but if you don’t want to, you know what to do, don’t you? Just remember the four key factors – Monitor their Time, give them the proper Inclination in life, restrict their Opportunity for undesirable activities, and, last but not the least, keep a tight leash on their Money.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
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