“Love You Ma”, “Love You Baby”- Six Words that Spin Your World

It began when I read a friend’s comment on her face book page.  It was her birthday and she posted a lovely card made by her little daughter. It was indeed pretty however one sentence on the card overjoyed my friend. It read, “Ma, you are the best cook in the world” and my friend commented how special and extraordinary it felt to get that title from her. That’s when it occurred to me how, very subconsciously, we are looking for our children’s approval in our lives no matter how young they are.  Apparently and consciously it is only our kids who come to us for approval or admiration. A painting they made, a clay dough they moulded, a room they tidied or even a lemonade they stirred. Any activity or task invariably ends with the same question “Mum or Dad how is it?” There is such an excited and heightened anticipation of being accepted, admired and liked that no matter what and how they have done you just got to hug them for their enthusiasm and effort. 

In truth, as adults we too look forward to the same emotions of acknowledgement, acceptance and admiration from others around us.  What we never realize is that we are also very subtly and unconsciously seeking a sort of approval from our kids. Almost as if asking them, “Are we good enough?” When my son beams, “Mummy the cheese wrap was so yum!” I despite knowing that the others also enjoyed it confirm with him, “Really Aman did you like it very much?” And his affirming nod so boosts me up.  When I paint along with him, he is totally surprised at times and exclaims, “Wow mom, you know to paint well!” And I for no reason or some reason feel so delighted at his remark. Not that it makes me anymore skilled but just the fact that he thinks something worthy of me is unexpectedly reassuring.  

This mutual need for acceptance made me realize the very symbiotic relationship between parents and their children.  I have two adorable kids who without fail, make sure I lose my mind every single day on hourly basis. However, every Parent-Teacher Meeting that I have attended over the years for my son, the teachers have generously praised him. Every time he has a play date at any of his friends’ homes, he always returns with compliments of how good, calm and well behaved he is. Of course I feel great and so proud of him. However, his story at our home is quite contrary. Recently, I left both my kids back home while I was away on a two week trip. And before leaving I pleaded with my son not to trouble his grandparents while getting ready for school. Trust me, I literally drag him to the bathroom and shove him into the shower on atleast four out of five school days. Usually I have one lucky day when he is more cooperative.  So I was stunned when my in-laws told me that they never had to wake him up for the two weeks. He was up at 6 on his own and ready before time without any fuss whatsoever.  This made me reproach him, “What is it about me Aman that you decide to be so difficult with everything when it comes to me?” Of course he didn’t reply. But I tried deciphering the answer myself.

A couple of years back, I was at my mom’s place and my niece had a phase of frequent crying episodes for no real reasons or unreasonable ones. I am accustomed to such episodes because of my own kids. However, I could comfort my niece with ease. I tackled her gently and intelligently and she would normalize. My mother was watching me from a distance and later she commented, “How come you are so patient and composed with your niece and nephew but always screaming at your own kids?” The truth and validity of her remark struck me. My mother’s words have stayed with me ever since but sadly haven’t changed me any better. Over time similar situations have occurred and I have reacted the same way. For instance, when I drop my daughter and her friends to school there is a very delightful ruckus in the car with singing, teasing and playing but in the midst of this delight there’s also screaming and jumping which needs my intervention. And I have repeatedly seen that when Amaya jumps, hits and screams I am very stern, threatening and furious with her but when her friends do the same I am soft and polite though tactful and firm.

You see there is such a strong reflexive behavioural disorder between our children and us. We clearly take each other for granted to a considerable extent. Somewhere deep in the subconscious they have come to believe that it’s alright to misbehave, throw a tantrum, make a fuss, be stubborn and demanding when they are with their parents. Same as we think it is fine to be fuming, shouting, yanking and threatening our own child. But as soon as we both are in others company; children with other elders or guardians and we with other kids, both their attitude and our approach are drastically changed.  

Of course there’s no dismissing the fact that we are dealing with other kids and they are dealing with other elders for very limited and brief periods where it is easier for all to maintain the facade of politeness and goodness. But when it comes to constant haggling with our own kids and for them constant nagging by their parents all manners, all patience, all calm just fly out of the window. Basically we have taken a few liberties with each other. We would shout at our own child but not at another’s because who wants to hear, “You are such a bad aunty. I don’t want to come with you again”. We would slap our child in private but not in the midst of guests for we might be termed insensitive and impatient parents. And maybe the child goes through a similar psychology, someone else branding him as “You are being a monster and driving me mad” or intimidating him, “We are sending you to a hostel” might hurt him much worse and disturb him much deeper. And so rather innocently he tries to contain or restrict such situations.

 But what makes this symbiotic relationship so resilient and strong is the unique layer of parent-child reconciliatory bond. No matter how much we may complain, haul, punish, and get frustrated with our children, at the end of the day we cuddle against them to coo “I love you my little lamb and I am sorry to have screamed”. We want to go back to those little benign beings and nurture them. And no matter how many times they feel offended and bang the doors, sometimes even hit us or say bad mummy or daddy, they come back running to find comfort in our arms. This mutual need, faith, and sort of non-egoistic love is the basis of the most fragile, sensitive yet the strongest symbiotic relationship of a parent and child. 

I hope to grow up to be a parent whose symbiosis with her growing bunnies gets stronger with their every birthday. And maybe on some odd birthday of mine, I might earn the title, “Ma, you are the best.”  

From Paris to Provence – A Second Love Affair

You often fall in love with a person but sometimes it’s a place. I felt smitten with Avignon - a lovely urban town in the Provence region of France. Well, recalling my very first experience in the city didn’t do anything to evoke the love rather left us almost high and dry. We arrived by train and went around looking for public transport information to get to our hotel. Considerable sweating and scurrying around in the hot sun lead us to an unaware security guard who guided us to a wrong bus stop where we waited and waited but no bus arrived. After a frustrating hour or more we finally took a cab. So the well intentioned guard’s misinformation cost us 40 Euros where we should have reached in 8 Euros. But the ordeal was far from over.

Upon reaching the B&B in the town’s suburb, we were welcomed by a locked door. We rung the bell and hence began a faceless communication with the lady on the other side who asked for our hotel’s confirmation voucher number. On having provided it, she gave us a code to punch in the security key board which would let us in. However, upon typing the code, the security equipment lighted with the following message, “Access denied, Make Payment”. We looked dumbstruck at each other for a long moment then at the faceless communicator trying to explain that we had paid in full and the Reservation Voucher read the same. But she wouldn’t budge, as long as her system didn’t show it she wouldn’t unlock the door or let us in and so we sat there on our luggage fuming both physically and mentally trying to sort out the glitch. The guy at the booking website’s call centre thankfully confirmed that it was a fully paid reservation and kept us on hold for 15 whole minutes on an international call. This was insanely exasperating and irritating. We gritted our teeth in the scorching sun (yes it was as bad as in Chennai) till he rectified the technical anomaly in the system and sent the confirmation to the hotel. And the faceless lady finally agreed to give us another code which worked and the door clicked open. It wasn’t merely relief, it was a deliverance.

The opening scene in Avignon left me cantankerous but all that followed soon only deepened the affliction of the French romance. Fragrant Purple Earth is what remains etched in my mind. Gazing at those expanses of lavender fields took me to a land of antiquity where I, a peasant girl sauntered unbridled and amok in the French countryside carrying my parasol. The beautiful and imperial lavender is sometimes juxtaposed with vibrant green and at other places with golden swaying hay. It is one of the most magnificent sights to behold. And with a little rub between the palms the lavender buds exude the most sensational aroma. Inviting villages of Sault, Gordes, Rousillon beckoned us with their tamed rusticity but natural charm.  Unspoilt and elegant in appearance but bucolic at its heart is how I would define these little towns dotting the landscape of Provence with its gorgeous purple bounty.

After basking in the countryside and seeing, smelling, touching and tasting (lavender ice cream) lavender it was time to explore the city of Avignon the next day. And as we made our way to the city centre by evening, it was oozing with voltaic excitement.  The side cafes packed with people, the streets a live performing stage and the air just electric with energy and vibrancy. By sheer luck and chance, our travel plans coincided with Avignon’s Cultural and Theatre Festival. And for anybody who has the slightest interest in art will be over the moon to witness this absolutely rocking festival. It is a world renowned event where artists and spectators from around the globe come together to thrive in its glory.

As we were ambling along, I realized the main street had been almost cordoned off for performers and crowds. I cannot truly capture the essence of that sight in words though I am living it in my mind several times while writing this. I have personally never seen such a culmination of artistic effervescence. The entire area was a live stage with street artists and performances every few hundred meters. From hip hop to tango, from guitarists to avant gard instruments; from acrobatics to actors it was all happening right in the streets and by lanes of the city centre with crowds circling around each performance. A particular guitarist’s soulful music still resonates in my mind and his calm and joyous expression clearly showed how much he loved his work. There was another band called the Nomad Men who caught my fancy for more than one reason, of course there music was tantalizingly upbeat and foot tapping, but one of the instruments was so novel like a ten feet wooden saxophone and the whole band was setup so inventively on a refurbished bike not to forget the pair of drummers who were such a good looking sight! However, what surprised me was that almost every musician here had his own recorded CD which he was selling as well as using to promote himself. They are both involved and serious about their pursuit. Further down, there were pumping dance routines one after the other with escalating energy. The love affair that began in Paris overflowed in Avignon only this time the medium had changed.

Theatre is another huge aspect of this festival and though I couldn’t see any they all being in French and sold out, the glimpses of it were all around us. The actors market their play on the streets in a very characteristic style. With painted faces and elaborate costumes they are doing the rounds on the street in their character’s get up delivering catchy dialogues on the way. It is not only eye catching but very new and interesting. Classics, comedy, satire, drama it’s all there to entertain every mental palate. Performers gather from far flung places for the love of their work and of course opportunities to come in the public eye. They live frugal lives, almost depending on their patrons’ generosity, but they still love what they do and this simple fact makes every challenge worthwhile. They are basically proud of their choices. This sort of acceptance, love and joy in the pursuit of art seemed to me like a Sufi connection and some of them did appear like dervishes completely lost in the music and dance of their spirit.

Such sights made me question and wonder if it is alright in life to say enough. Is it okay to be happy with limited resources and avenues? Or is every human bound to strive for peaking progress and growth? A growth which the world can define and translate into countable units. Let me put it this way a musician who has the potential to become the next Lionel Richie but is content in playing by the street side, watching the world go by, while some in the crowd stand mesmerized and congratulate him. Is his chosen life an atrophy of his talents? Is he stunting his personal progress? A progress that in time might stunt the very joy from his music. Is it not a personal choice then than who are we to judge his aspirations and success by our personal barometer? The margin of error in being complacent and satisfied is rather very narrow. As long as a person still wakes up looking forward to his vocation or profession, derives joy from it and earns enough to lead a self reliant life I guess he is doing very well for himself.

What I also wonder is why we as a community and society in our country never encouraged a heartfelt alternative career quest. Potential artists forced into a rut which didn’t make sense to them or pushed blindly into an academic race they had no inclination to run? The movie ‘Tamasha’ rightly put it across. Most importantly why does it not register with us that some people choose not to run the race not because they are complacent, lazy or incompetent but simply the joy from their art or vocation is enough for them.  Thankfully there is eventually a visible shift in our mindset. There is a growing tribe of explorers and artists in all fields who are boldly breaking the stereotype and fighting the antagonism to find their footing in the academic loving society.

Drifting back to Avignon, well all I can say is that it was a celebration of intellectual, creative and artistic sensibilities revelled against the most picturesque purple fragrant lavender fields, a sight and experience that will stay with me for a long long time to come till I fall in love with another place.