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He knocked at my bedroom door apologetically asking for permission to come in in the middle of the night . “Open the door mom! I can’t get sleep and I am scared. His voice was choky
I asked him to jump in in between us and he slept with in minutes like a baby. My door was open anyway. I knew he would come. The drama had been going for three days. Every day same , unable to sleep alone, restless, scared. Middle of the night a loud knock and pleading to sleep with us. And next day he would apologize in shame. We have been going through this together in an effort to find a solution. I blamed it on all the horror that he keeps watching screwing up his head but he admits it is not the monsters. His heart palpitations, the voice, the sweat clearly indicate anxiety symptoms uncommon for his age. We are not exactly very strict parents by our own standards. A light sleeper that he is he spends more time awake than asleep unlike my elder one. But come the night and time to jump in bed ,he has to plan, snuggle closer and sniff the body warmth of the person sleeping next to him. He will put his arm across or wrap his legs around and shake and shake till he falls asleep.
For past 8 years his sister has been a constant companion, at times myself or his father, or grand-moms but never alone. He only sleeps alone curled in a ball when he is sick . Four days ago his sister abandoned him shifting to the adjacent room because she needs her own space and she finds him too disturbing. I didn’t want to argue because I realize she too is growing up and needs her own privacy. So I agreed to her and looked at him apologetically and said “Big boy ! You are on your own now. Learn to sleep alone.
He had a quizzical look about this sudden shift in his otherwise settled life . Being the youngest he is still far away from the expectations of being the big man he was suddenly expected to be. He was angry cursing her how little she valued him and kept reasoning it out with her which later turned into pleading. She obviously didn’t relent and I wasn’t comfortable with the scene so I threw a smart argument in his direction that if he learns to sleep alone , manages and keep his room tidy for a few days maybe I could then furnish it the way he wants it to be. A bed by the window overlooking the garden where the sun rays hit first and the moon hangs at the rooftop of the spa opposite our house. It is the best part of the house with the most pleasant view in all seasons. I sold him my idea and he agreed. I congratulated myself for killing two birds with one stone because that way he will learn to clean up the mess he creates in his chaotic way of living. He loves space. According to him “Space is unknown and what is unknown has infinite possibilities” . Like a newly discovered planet, UFO’s ,aliens, thousands of galaxies and millions of stars space has space for them all. He is forever glued to Antariksh TV and the details in which he remembers makes me doubt if he himself is an alien planted from outer space in my own house. I listen to him more in ignorance than amazement. He is the only one battling chronic depression since Chandrayan-2 missed its mission. He felt the pain of every scientist involved sitting in my house and I was also dragged into feeling bad along with him .seeing his love for science and space I encourage him to score good in Maths and science which he does without much effort. He is been winning his Olympiads in English consistently and I am yet to doubt his intelligence. I feel grateful I have an Einstein in Albert’s (my husband ) house. But he is equally spaced out like Einstein’s both internally and externally. He lives and survives in chaos .He can’t find his shoes, can never locate lost items, forgets easily, wears an unkempt look , dresses shabbily and all of those dislikeable traits in a parent’s dictionary. How he manages to find the knickers with gaping holes size of a tennis ball while going for a party is something that I haven’t been able to figure out. His pencils are never sharpened, tiffin left behind in school, buying maps at the eleventh hour for an early morning Geography assignment makes me wonder where did I go wrong in raising him . I was never like him .Did I love him too much ? My husband and daughter accuse me for letting him off the hook very easily for what deserves a severe punishment but I hate him standing in corners and his ears pulled. I have succumbed to the temptation of thrashing him in sheer disgust at times but that leaves me unhappy and guilty every time. I hated those moments when I lost my control with him. I pray to God to give him more sense and alertness and attention to make it through in life. He hates to be disciplined and rebels at every rule we want to impose on him .
His female friends outnumber his male friends in class and he hangs around more with his sister’s friends in recess who just adore him. I tease him sometimes that at this rate he will be always shelling more at Rakhi than any other festival. He is hardly bothered. The boys in his class mock him for being “a girl” more so recently since he happened to be the lone participant in his Kathak Dance performance at the school annual function. Constantly tormented ever since and sworn at by all kinds of names thrown at him he returned one day weepy and asked me what he could do ? I was more angered by his pain at the ridicule he had to face that I suggested he asks anyone to peep down his pants should they want more assurance.I am still figuring out a befitting reply to teach my son who deserves better. Dressed as Birju Maharaj among the female dancers he gave his best in one month of training by his strict dance teacher. He practiced his mudras and gestures while setting the dinner plates in the house and made me go deaf with his thap-thap . He put on a red lipstick and kohl with ease and wore ghunghroos. He explained that Nritya’s literal meaning is “ dance with emotions” to express an idea or a story or a bhava.
We were quiet taken by his performance at the annual function as he lost himself into the “Nritya” flowing in him which had gone unnoticed till then. Thanks to his strict dance teacher whom he describes as often misquoted and misunderstood but a very nice dedicated lady. In the din of life we often forget to hear the tunes that our children are capable of singing. We ignore their voices in our commands and load them with the facts and figures that they may not even be of great value one day.
How did trigonometry ever help a Mathematician cope with a huge financial crippling setback ? Did the knowledge of anatomy of heart make it easier for me to deal with my own depression in life? Did a superb linguistic deal any better in a bitter divorce struggle where his spouse cited reasons of him being uncommunicative? Could a lawyer argue and achieve better resolution in his own family feud running in years ? Did a civil engineer build better unbreakable bonds with his own children and grandchildren ? Did an MBA ever reach the target of ultimate satisfaction in his own life? I am not against achieving high educational goals or setting high standards but when it comes to my child I ponder to what effect is this senseless cramming learning of definition of democracy and secularism as values when we have poor tolerance on roads and neighborhoods to begin with.
He quivered in self-doubt when he couldn’t answer his teacher what he wanted to become when he grows big ? She was just trying to re-emphasize how hard they have to work towards a set goal which by now they should know after exams. He looked lost and his teacher was shocked that he didn’t know what he wanted to be ? Is that so wrong mom he asked ? Without confusing him further I managed to tell him that he did not have to be like anybody but just himself. There is hardly any guilt or shame to be projected to a child at eleven by a parent or a teacher who is yet discovering himself bit by bit. In our forties I have not figured out yet who I want to be and now my son comes with the same doubt!
A front seat ride in a SUV of a pick-up pool parent where he gets to change the stereo and dance his way on the seat to his house gives him an unmatched thrill in a five minute ride .He fails to notice the posh bungalow of his friend who comes from a very affluent background and talks more about their dog than anything else. Some differences haven’t yet percolated in his conscience but for now he is content and happy desiring to pet a dogs, feed the fish ,talk to the birds and getting to hold a rabbit. His heart breaks and tears flow when requested to bury his rabbit and budgie bird who died shortly after they were brought .He refused the burial because he just didn’t like holding them when dead and lifeless. I have most important lessons to teach him those days about accepting life and death as a part of life while wiping his tears. I learnt them rather very late and the hard way.
Often he is asked to stay out from the football game in the middle because he isn’t as aggressive as the others. He hardly minds as long as he is contributing in his team even if he has to be the goal keeper. He knows his capacity and he is often teased with names there too. One may digest the names but insults and shame hit deep. Unable to understand half of those adjectives I wish he would be more bold and brute. He gets scared when one of the bullies in the same gang fractured the finger of another child in a fight at the pool where they were supposed to be having fun .
He avoids him most often as we have taught him because I know his physical strength. He has no liking to pain neither his nor others yet the same boy will never whine when his body burns in high fever asking for his mommy. He forgives his own classmates and friends easily who happen to injure him quiet often saying it was a mistake and he didn’t mean too. I have seen his physical resilience after his post-operative status when he bore colic for a week because of a catheter which just had to be. He would distract himself or not complain. Just because he doesn’t give it back or doesn’t like to hurt, destroy or tease doesn’t disqualify him to be a typical boy. I am sure the world will look for those absolutely beautiful trait in the man he would become one day. The Jhansi ki Rani spirit in the mother I am to him wants me to teach him an absolute opposite lesson to face it and give it back but I do realize that I can’t cultivate a trait in him which is non existential in him , not at the moment .I will be feeding him more of my own aggression and experiences. Those are not his lessons. For now let him learn what works best for him for he will have to face his own challenges and learn to take a stance in life slowly. There is no hurry to be a man. At the moment he is happy writing stories and staying a longer in his castles with aliens.
I know his strengths and I know his weaknesses too. I do realize that he is not mine to claim, tame ,shame or blame. He is his own sovereign true self who is still lost only to be discovered. My only job is too love him and get more blamed for loving him far too much because in accepting him I will accept the wounded child in me that grew and became a parent in herself. Every time I have the urge to shout at him I need to understand the reasons of his behavior, silence, rage, anger, excitement, moodiness and not direct him to behave in the manner I expect him to be. For me to get to him I have to be my own eleven year old self , stepping in his shoes in the space to discover him and myself.
For a change today we are trying out the Hanuman Chalisa to be chanted before his bedtime as a fear strategy. And let’s see if he knocks . I am keeping my door unlocked and waiting to cuddle him to sleep smelling his innocence. If this does not work we will try something else tomorrow.
