Being
a single parent is not easy, even in a big city, and a being a single father is
worse. “A man can never nurture”, it is said. No one is willing to give a man a
chance. He is bound by the societal streotypes of a bread earner and a
protector. He is often the the subject of the society gossip and the child
often subject to taunts and questions, answer to which he is too young to
contemplate. Conflicting emotions tears up the man everyday and at every step.
Should he be the caring and loving mother or the disciplinarian father? It is an
emotional mesh that tend to push him to the extremes in either direction.
It
was one of these battles that I was fighting that rainy evening. My five year
old son was impatiently pacing in the room, anxiously looking out of the window
for his playmates. It was pouring outside and he wanted to go out and play. The
mother in me did not want to let the boy out in the rain. After lot of cajoling
and promises, I agreed to let him go out and play with his friends on the
assurance that he will keep his raincoat on and avoid the puddles. He ran down
the steps of my fifth floor apartment, too excited to wait for the lift. I had
hardly settled down in my sofa to complete a long pending book, that I heard
his joyful shrieks. I thought of taking a peek out of the window to check on
him. There he was racing down the society walkway, on his bicycle, along with
the other kids of the society, drenched to the bone, his shirt sticking to his
body, raincoat long shed and forgotten. I shouted at him and commanded him to
come back home on the double.
He
stood at the door shivering in his wet clothes, scared and nervous about the
expected reprimand. I was scolded him as I rubbed him dry with a towel. He was
obviously sad on loosing out of the fun time with his friends. His question
disarmed me completely, “Baba, did you not play in the rain when you were my
age?” He ran inside, too cold to wait for an answer and too young to understand
contradiction of the adults.
When
I was his age, I not only got drenched in the rain, but also muddied my school
uniform playing in the rain and mud along with my friends. When I seek to
protect him, I was actually denying him the joys of childhood which he is so
entitled to. We adult spend too much time thinking, “what would happen if,” and
thus miss out on the small joys of life. When we correct your children we
forget how we craved to do exactly the same things as a child.
