If his son Arun wasn’t winning, he wasn’t living.
At age four, Arun’s finger-painting was analysed for “marketable brushstrokes.”
By seven, his piano recital was graded on “emotional engagement” by Ramesh, who played zero instruments but owned three spreadsheets.
When Arun came third in the spelling bee, Ramesh sat him down. “Third is just first with extra letters.” The boy nodded, wondering if vowels were the problem.
At parent-teacher meetings, Ramesh carried a laminated list of Arun’s “key performance indicators.” The teacher suggested that maybe Arun liked drawing. “Drawing?”
Ramesh gasped. “Does it come with a trophy?”
One day, Arun brought home a report card with a C in math. Ramesh stared at it for so long that the paper became very emotional too. He called a family meeting.
“We need to pivot. Coding. Chess. Rocket surgery. Anything.”
Arun quietly said, “Appa, I just wanted to show you this.” He held up a crayon drawing of their family, all three figures smiling, holding hands under a seriously angry sun. Ramesh’s spreadsheets had no column for sun paintings.
He opened his mouth to ask if the drawing could be entered in a competition. Then he looked at Arun’s face , a face that had spent seven years waiting for applause that never came for just him.
“It’s beautiful,” Ramesh whispered. And for the first time, he meant it without calculating the market value.
Now Arun draws rainbows that make no mathematical sense. Ramesh still keeps his spreadsheets & Caliculations.
Moral:
Your child is a person, not a portfolio. The only trophy they truly need is your love, and it doesn’t come with a score. 🏆
I really pity not only one Arun but many Arun's who are waiting for one small nod, one small clap, one chotu pat on the back and so on.
ReplyDeleteParents like Ramesh can be seen all around who.always wants Medals and Cups and trophies. And in their race many Arun's are suffering🥹😢