Life Lessons from a Little Teacher

I woke up late as it was Sunday. Plus I had struggled to sleep last night after a pretty heavy leg workout. I indulged in reading to avert my attention from the sore muscles (A nice Indian work by an author I know personally; but that's for another post).  I have now made it a habit not to switch internet on the mobile until I’m ready for work. On weekends, until after breakfast. 

The first message that greeted me was from my sister, sent late at night possibly. Sister and my niece are currently vacationing in Dubai, with my brother-in-law, who has recently moved there from the UK. "He is so courageous Su.  He has not just found a great place to live in, but also has bought a car, and has become conversant with driving out here", she couldn't hide her admiration when she had spoken the previous day.  Having been used to right-hand-drive all along, suddenly making the shift to the other side seamlessly isn't mean task. 

Along with the message, my sister had sent a picture too. The picture of a small, red cake. Followed by the story behind it. It was my brother-in-law’s birthday yesterday. The cake they’d bought to celebrate had melted away in the car. While the parents were disappointed the little girl - my niece all of eight - had asked them not to be upset, ran into the kitchen and soon returned with an instant cake for her dearest dad to cut.

She had sliced off the top of an apple, melted a dairy milk chocolate in the one, and poured over the sliced apple. She had gone on to garnish it with sweet chips and crystal sugar. Needless to say the cake was far yummier than the store-bought black forrest.  My sister was all pride when she gushed out all the details when we caught up in the evening over skype.  “We are truly blessed Su to have little T in our lives”.  I couldn't have said it better.

I was reminded of the saying I had heard when I was young - but one which hadn’t made much sense back then. ‘Child is the father of the man’, attributed to Wordsworth, if I’m not mistaken. She had simply displayed what an adult should do in a moment of panic - innovate!  And my mind also wandered back to an incident that took place almost two years ago, when sister and family had come down from the UK for the annual holidays.

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It was August, and the Independence Day was nearing.  My niece would come along with me to the workplace.  One, she wanted to spend time with her favourite 'mama'.  Two, she loved my place of work - spacious cabin, sofas to roll on, a whiteboard to scribble, draw, and write as she pleased, and a 'new auntie' she had befriended. She could order me around, get any colour of marker she wanted to use, cajole 'auntie' to let her play on her system, and help her draw on boundless supply of paper.  She made many cards for me and for her dad - telling us how much she loved us! My joy touched heavens frequently. 

As usual, there were deadlines at work, and I had asked one of my officers to finalise a report that needed to be sent to my Head Quarters.  I had found the draft he had prepared was not adequate, and hence made corrections, and advised him to add a few more pieces of information and bring it back.  The officer returned with the modified draft the next day, and to my chagrin I found he hadn't made any changes as desired or directed.  I lost my cool and ticked him off for not paying attention to what was being said.  Realising suddenly that my niece too was there, I calmed down, and told him again politely to rectify it as needed.  He returned soon, with a suitably modified draft, I signed the same and thanked him and sent him away.  

The girl quietly asked me after a while, "mama, may I ask you something?" 

"Sure darling.  Ask anything".

"Who was that person?"

"He is an officer who works with me".  

"Oh! Why did you tell him off?

"I had asked him to prepare a report.  He made many mistakes".

"Okay.  But do you know you raised your voice and almost shouted at him?"

"Yes.  He made a mistake".

"I know.  But, you still could have told him nicely.  You didn't have to raise your voice".

"Yes baby.  I got angry.  I won't do it another time", I said so I could placate her and move on.  I thought that would make her stop.  I was wrong.

"Do you know he might have felt bad because you told him off so badly?", she continued.

"Yes, he might be feeling bad". 

"If  you shout at someone, they will feel sad in their heart.  You should not do it mama.  You can say that they have made a mistake in a nice way.  And, with a smile. They will learn".

"Okay sweetie, I will remember to be nice from next time". 

With each sentence she was uttering I was realising how mature she was and how immature was my behaviour.  To make amends for having lost my temper in front of her, I said, "Did you feel sad too in your heart?"

"Yes.  A bit".

 "I am sorry baby.  I will not shout at people anymore.  I will tell politely and nicely from next time". 

She was quiet.  And, was intently looking at me.  

"What now? Do you want me to say sorry to the officer too?"

"I don't know.  It is your wish".  She went back to her books with that.

A minute later she returned to me.  "I think you should say sorry to him".

I was stunned.  I didn't expect her to say it so clearly.  "Okay?", I managed to say.

"Because you made him feel sad by telling him off and because I also feel sad in my heart, you should say sorry".  I agreed.  I called the officer, and apologised to him for having been rude.

As the officer left my chamber, my niece came to me, gave me a hug and said, "Now I love you mama".  

She was all of six years.  And, she had given a telling blow to my ego of being the boss.  With insight and clarity beyond her age, she had taught me a valuable lesson.  Of being gentle, humble, and grounded.  It is almost two years since this incident.  Even now if I am angry with someone at work, I remember the words of my niece.  And hold my tongue, lest I speak something I would regret later. 

All children are teachers.  Teachers to their parents, relatives, and even their teachers at school.  They teach us patience, the joy of giving, rekindle our curiosity, and remind us to stay young.  We just have to ask ourselves. "Am I ready and willing to learn?"

It's Human to be Humorous!

ಅಪ್ಪ ಎಂದರೆ ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಇಷ್ಟ ಇರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ! ಎಲ್ಲರೂ ತಮ್ಮ ಅಪ್ಪಂದಿರ ದೊಡ್ಡತನ, ಧೈರ್ಯ, ಗಾಂಭೀರ್ಯ ಮತ್ತು ತ್ಯಾಗಗಳನ್ನು ನೆನೆಯುವುದು, ಹಾಗೂ ಅವುಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಮಾತನಾಡುವುದು ಸಹಜ.  ನಮ್ಮ ತಂದೆಯೂ ಹಾಗೆಯೆ. ಆದರೆ ನಮ್ಮ ತಂದೆಯ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿತ್ವ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ವಿರಳವಾದದ್ದು. ನಾವು ಯಾರಾದರೂ ಜೋರಾಗಿ ನಕ್ಕರೆ ಅವರಿಗೆ ಹಿಡಿಸದು.  ನಕ್ಕರೆ ಮಂದಹಾಸವಾಗಿರಬೇಕು ಅಭಾಸವಾಗಬಾರದು ಎಂಬುದು ಅವರ ಅಂಬೋಣ.

Everyone would be proud of their fathers.  When asked we all would gladly remember and relate stories of our dads' generosity, courage, demeanor, and their sacrifices to bring us up.  My dad is no exception.  However, there are peculiarities to his nature.  He does not like anyone laughing loudly.  He frowned at us when we guffawed.  He expected us to laugh silently and not make a ruckus!

ಹಾಗೆಂದು ಅವರಿಗೆ ಹಾಸ್ಯ ಪ್ರಜ್ಞೆ ಇಲ್ಲ ಎಂದಲ್ಲ.  ಅವರ ಹಾಸ್ಯವೂ ಅವರಂತೆಯೇ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಬೇರೆಯೇ ತರನದು.  ಅದನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಕೆಲವು ಘಟನೆಗಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ನಿರೂಪಿಸಲು ಇಚ್ಛಿಸಿತ್ತೇನೆ.

That didn't mean dad did not have a sense of humour.  He did! Just that it expressed itself differently, like him.  I would like to narrate a few incidents when his humour and wit sparkled and left us in splits. 

ಒಮ್ಮೆ ನಾನು ತಲ್ಲೀನನಾಗಿ ಹಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ.  ನನ್ನ ತಂದೆ ಮುಂದೆಯೇ ಮಂಚದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತು  ಮಂದಹಾಸ ಬೀರುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು.  ಅವರ ಕಿರುನಗೆ ಕಂಡು ನನಗೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಹುಮ್ಮಸ್ಸು ಬಂದು ಮತ್ತಷ್ಟು ಹಾಡಿದೆ.  ಹಾಡು ಮುಗಿದ ನಂತರ ತಂದೆಯನ್ನು ಕೇಳಿದೆ. "ಪಾ, ನಾನು ಹಾಡಿದ್ದು ಹೇಗಿತ್ತು? ನಿನಗೆ ಹಿಡಿಸಿತಾ?" ನನಗೆ ಅಪ್ಪನ ಮೆಚ್ಚುಗೆ ಬೇಕಿತ್ತು.  ತಂದೆ ಆಗಾಗ ದೇವಸ್ಥಾನದ ಕಚೇರಿಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಹಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು.  ಹಾಗೂ ದೇವರ ಹಾಡುಗಳನ್ನು ಬರೆಯುವದು ಅವರ ರೂಢಿ. ನಾವು ಚಿಕ್ಕವರಿದ್ದಾಗ ಅಮ್ಮನ ಮೇಲೆ ಹಾಡುಗಳನ್ನು ಕಟ್ಟುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ದೃಶ್ಯಗಳು ಇನ್ನೂ ನೆನಪಿವೆ.

Once I was singing spiritedly at home.  Dad was sitting nearby on the bed.  I found him looking at me and smiling as I sang.  Assuming he was impressed with my singing, I was inspired to sing even more fervently.  As I finished the song, I couldn't stop myself from asking, "How was it pa? Do you think I sang well?" I wanted his approval as dad sang regularly at the temple concerts.  Plus, he also wrote devotional songs.  I remember vividly, when we were young he would pen songs on my mother.

ಅಪ್ಪ ಮೇಲೆದ್ದು ಬಾಗಿಲ ಕಡೆ ನಡೆದರು.  ಕದ ತೆರೆದು ಒಮ್ಮೆ ಆಚೀಚೆ ನೋಡಿ ಹಿಂದೆ ಬಂದರು.  ನಾನು ಮನದಲ್ಲಿಯೇ ಆಲೋಚಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ, ಇದೇನು ಹೀಗೆ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ? ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ ಇವರಿಗೆ ಕೇಳಲಿಲ್ಲವೇ?  "ಯಾಕಪ್ಪ ಏನಾಯಿತು?" ಎಂದು ಸುಮ್ಮನಿರಲಾರದೆ ಕೇಳಿದೆ.  ಅವರು ಹೀಗೆಂದರು.  "ನಿನ್ನವರಾರೂ ಕಾಣಲಿಲ್ಲ.  ಬಂದಿಲ್ಲವೆನಿಸುತ್ತೆ", ಎಂದರು.  ಅಪ್ಪ ನನ್ನವರೆಂದದ್ದು ಕತ್ತೆಗಳನ್ನು ಕುರಿತು.  ನನ್ನ ಸಂಗೀತವನ್ನು ಗಾರ್ದಭಗಳ ಗಾನಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಲಿಸಿದ್ದರು! ಅಪ್ಪನ ಜೋಕಿಗೆ ನಗಬೇಕೋ ಕೋಪಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳಬೇಕೋ ನನಗೆ ತಿಳಿಯಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

Dad got up from the bed and walked towards to the door.  He opened the door, and looked hither and thither, and returned to his seat on the bed.  I wondered what happened. Did he listen to my question at all? I couldn't stay quiet, and asked him, "What happened pa?" "I didn't see any of your co-singers; seems they didn't arrive", he retorted.  He without saying it had compared my singing to the braying of donkeys.  Even as I was left red-faced, I couldn't help but laugh at his joke.

ಇನ್ನೊಮ್ಮೆ ಅಮ್ಮ ಅಪ್ಪನ ಮೇಲೆ ಬೇಸತ್ತು ನನ್ನ ಬಳಿ ದೂರು ಹೇಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು.  ಅಪ್ಪ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲೇ ಕುಳಿತು ನಸುನಗುತ್ತಾ ಟಿವಿ ನೋಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. 

"ಹೊಲ ಮಾರಿ ಯಾವ ಕಾಲ ಆಯಿತು.  ನನಗೆ ಕೊಡುತ್ತೇನೆ ಎಂದಿದ್ದ ದುಡ್ಡು ಕೊಡಲಿಲ್ಲ.  ಯಾರು ಕೇಳಿದರೂ ಇವರು ಹಣ ಕೊಡುತ್ತಾರೆ.  ನಾನು ಕೇಳಿದರೆ ಇವರಿಗೆ ಹತ್ತು ಪೈಸೆ ಕೊಡಲೂ ಮನಸ್ಸು ಬರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ" ಎಂದು ಅಮ್ಮ ಹರಿ ಹಾಯ್ದರು. 

ಅಲ್ಲಿಯವರೆಗೂ ತಮಗೆ ಸಂಬಂಧವಿಲ್ಲವೇನೋ ಎಂಬಂತಿದ್ದ ಅಪ್ಪ ನಮ್ಮತ್ತ ತಿರುಗಿ ಹೇಳಿದರು, "ನಾನೇನೋ ಹತ್ತು ಪೈಸೆ ಕೊಡಲು ರೆಡಿ. ಆದರೆ ಅವಳು ತೆಗೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾಳಾ ಕೇಳು".  ಸಿಟ್ಟಿಗೆದ್ದಿದ್ದ ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೂ ನಗೆ ತಡೆಯಲಾಗಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

Recently, mom was upset with my dad over money matters and was complaining with me.  Dad was watching TV while she spoke. 

"It's been so long since those lands were sold.  He had promised me that he would give me money from the proceeds.  He hasn't.  If anyone asks he never says no.  But he is not inclined to give me even 10 paise", she went on.

Dad, who appeared uninterested in our conversation, suddenly turned towards us and said, "I am inclined to give her 10 paise.  But is she willing to accept it?" Even my mom couldn't stop laughing despite her anger.

ತಂದೆಯ ಈ ರೀತಿಯ ನಗೆಹನಿಗಳು ನಮಗೆ ದಿನನಿತ್ಯವೂ ಕೇಳಸಿತುಗ್ಗವೆ.  ಆದರೆ ಅವಕ್ಕೆ ಜೋರಾಗೆ ನಕ್ಕರೆ ಮಾತ್ರ ಅವರಿಂದ ಮತ್ತೆ ಪಾಠ ಕೇಳಬೇಕಾಗುತ್ತೆ!

Dad keeps cracking such situational jokes day in and day out.  But if we laugh aloud, we have to be ready to listen to his lecture on how to behave!

(P.S. As I grow older I cannot appreciate enough of the presence of parents in my life.  I intend to make such small efforts to show their different facets. 

Also, this is my first attempt at writing in both Kannada and English.  Will hope to continue doing this often).