By Smita Dhariwal
I’m a mother of two boys, now men–Rishab and Raghav–both in their early 20s. I’m proud of them, not because they have done well in their life so far, and in all likelihood will continue to, but because of the people they have become, pragmatic and fighters but with a sense of fair play.
Needless to add, for a mother, her children are the project of life. My own welfare is so intricately linked with theirs but I don’t want them to cling with me, but step out in the world and make a valiant tryst with their destiny and strive to get what they want.
When I think of my life–and I have high standards for myself as a mother and as a wife and as a woman. They: the boys and their father, my husband–Manish, are the pivot. Having said that, we have a close-knit extended family and care for each other, not as an obligation but for the joy and love of it.
I was always very fond of children and so when I had my own kids–in quick succession, boys are 15 months apart–it was a dream come true. They grew up together, and, I reckon, are best friends too. But are very distinct personalities, and both are admirable in their own ways. Their birth was an amazing moment, sort of an inflection point, and something significantly shifted in me, and life will never be the same.
Their birth, and their growing up, bit by bit, into very defined individuals, gives me a pleasure unbound. Years now flash as moments. And I stand witness to this change, that I was an integral part of. My sons have a great role to play in what I have become.
But it, the whole growing up process of the boys that extended over a couple of decades, had its moments, good and bad; and I was tested as a mother. Now when I look back, I’m happy that I was learning on the job.
There were elders to consult, but I wanted them to not copy a generation prior to theirs, so I welcomed influences from outside of the family, read up many parenting books and looked around at what people were doing, more importantly, what was wrong in their approach and try not to make the same mistakes. And also dispense with the things I abhorred growing up about my parents.
Just to give you an idea, I’m born and brought up in Delhi in a joint family setting, my father and his elder brother lived together harmoniously. My father was a school dropout and the first generation entrepreneur who came from the desert district of Rajasthan–Bikaner–to Delhi for greener pastures, and we are now reaping the benefits. My mother barely completed her primary education and was raised by her widowed mother in Nepal. That didn’t prevent her from being a strict disciplinarian, though my father was an easygoing person who I could not just talk to but ask for anything under the sun. They put me in the best schools and provided a fairly comfortable and protected upbringing.
My husband is a Delhilite, and his father was a gold medallist chartered accountant. He too was a first-generation migrant to Delhi from another part of Rajasthan–Jodhpur. His wife was a graduate and a homemaker par excellence. My husband grew under the shadow of his father who was domineering with strong likes and dislikes. My husband also followed in his father’s footsteps to become a rank-holder chartered accountant, but he’s not like his father to his sons. They are more like friends. My father is the only grandparent the boys have and they enjoy a healthy and enriching relationship with him.
Given this backdrop, I was acutely aware of what I didn’t want to do, rather than what to do with the boys. Khalil Gibran’s poetry ‘On Children’ was my inspiration. It’s so true “a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children. And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.” (Full text:https://poets.org/poem/children-1)
I knew both the boys are individuals in their own quintessential way, distinct from my desires. Therefore, my role is to believe in them and support them all the way, so that they may rise to the challenges life may have to offer. It was of utmost importance to me to make them strong, their strength will come from moral fortitude and a humanistic approach even in the face of the toughest challenges in life. The onus of inculcating the right values was on me. Their intelligence, skill, and knowledge were secondary to me.
I made it a point to rejoice in their morally right decisions, more than their grades—they got top grades nevertheless. I wanted them to see life without filters, and as a mother exposed them to various sports–to inculcate the value of fair play and the spirit of sportsmanship, museums to give them a historical perspective, as the past casts its shadow on the future.
And healthy interaction with people, how they go about their life, the choices they made, and the repercussion of those choices. I was particularly keen that they meet people who left the comfort of their homes to fulfill their destinies, also with involved parents like us for them to get a wider perspective on things.
Perhaps for this reason, not only did they learn at an early age how to handle their disagreements with peers, but also to clearly put across their point of view. I always gave them an honest hearing but never intervened in matters pertaining to their peer groups. It was for them to deal with. This has been a good learning curve for the boys and their mother.
We always had a two-way communication going, and soon came a time when they had more things to tell me about I didn't know. I was always open to their ideas. As they grew up, I started seeing the world from their lens and, in the process, was aware of what was going on in their lives. They made me a better human being who was well-informed and riding the waves of change.
I was there for them, to understand their feelings, if they are feeling low, talk to them, have a conversation going, and give them space to speak their minds without feeling the threat of being judged. They are always my top priority without me being overbearing on them at the same time. I could maintain that tricky balance.
Boys are full of energy, so we were outdoors for at least 2 hours every day. And let them try new activities. As a child, I was confronted with many nos and, therefore, never use the word ‘no’ to my boys. Instead, I provide them with alternatives and discuss the fallout associated with a decision.
Then the tricky part is to know when to step back--the art of withdrawing from things they wanted to do on their own. And there will come a stage when the number of such activities will increase. It was hard but an essential part of parenting, weaning off at the right time. Like Kahlil Gibran writes “You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”
I respected all their friendships and made efforts for them to connect with their friends. The generation gap is real but if you’re willing to understand the changing scenarios, and open to change, the generation gap can be easily bridged. In that sense, my boys have kept me young and contemporary.
At the end of the day, it’s about giving them the confidence and support to do their things, sometimes they will go wrong, and their worst side will have sway, but that’s part of growing up.
Love is potent when it’s unconditional, and there’s no give and take. It’s like sunshine. I look at our parentship as sunshine. Though I made a fair share of mistakes, I quickly learned from them and moved on. Being a better parent is an ongoing process. Raising my boys to become men of substance has given me insurmountable pleasure. That's me.
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