Of what is outside the line of control...

There was an incident that happened this afternoon. Something that left me very upset for quite some time. I was picking Thambi up from school, and as he has done many times in the past, this day too, he refused to come home with me, claiming how much fun he was having there. Unheeding all my requests to get in the car, I finally had to lift him up and walk him over.

And so there I was, in the hot sun, lifting a wriggling Thambi in one hand and his sandals and his lunch bag in the other, and I realise his side of the door is locked from the inside. It had stopped working alongwith the central locking system a long while back, and the only way is to open it from the inside, and usually, I just reach over from the driver's side and unlock it. But this time, since my hands were full, I asked Winkie, who was sitting inside to do it for me. But he didn't. All he made was this half hearted attempt to reach over, without taking off his own seat belt, which means he didn't even reach halfway across.

And just watching him, barely attempt to help me, while I struggled profusely with this guy, cut me very much to the quick. I dropped the shoes and bag to the floor and opened my door and reached in and unlocked Thambi's side, and deposited him in, all the while giving Winkie a cold look, as he looked frostily back at me. We had just had a little argument on the way over and I knew it was his way of paying me back. But it hurt. Bad. How can you watch someone suffer right in front of your eyes, and not jump in to help, even when you were asked to?

Tears pricked at my eyes as I drove us all home, and I struggled to gain control over my emotions. I got into a bit of self pity mode. Is this what I deserve from my kids? Am I not doing enough for them? It was very difficult for me to stomach, that a child of mine could exhibit that much of coldness that deliberately.

While writing about my kids here, I have always tried to write the best of them, and remember only all the things that gave me the most reasons to smile. It wasn't that I was in denial about the hard days that are always there , but it is always better to focus on the good and sweet things, is it not? And give them all those nice memories to indulge in when they are older, if they ever get around to reading this space.

But today, I feel like writing about this. Its not so much to remember the flip side as much as what it made me realise and the simple force with which it dawned on me.

After we came home, he refused to get out of the car. And I was in no mood to cajole or request or even talk to him, so I walked in with Thambi, expecting him to walk in soon enough, for how long would he stay out in the garage by himself. A half hour passed by and still no sign of him. By this time, of course, me anger had evaporated, and I resigned myself to being calm.

Whenever I feel stuck for a remedy to a parenting problem, I just liken it to how God treats me, when I am being an errant child. I recall all the many times I have sinned and how my free will was never taken away as a result. I remember nothing of a lessening of love. If anything, I felt His presence more, as the Conscience within me, giving me the clarity of what I had done wrong, and what I still needed to do. And all of this was unobtrusive, and as gentle as switching on the bedside lamp, and never as a harsh flooding of light. And so I knew what I must do now, the love I still had to give, the judgement that I had to take away, the complete acceptance that I still owed him. And I breathed in deep and walked out.

And he was asleep. His head flopping to the side, his mouth slightly open, as he breathed in and out, in a tired slumber. My baby! How we act up, when all we need are a few extra hours of sleep! I went over and lifted him out of the car and carried him in, in my arms. One of these days, its not going to be easy to do even that, but today, thankfully, was not that day and I could be a mother to this child and carry him still.

He stirred as soon as I lay him down, and wanted to eat his lunch. I fixed him a plate, and we sat down together to eat. What happened, still bothered me. He may have been sleepy and he may have been hungry, but in my estimation, it was no reason for him to not click open his belt, and unlock the door. A matter of 10 seconds. It still hurt. And the words were bubbling up again. And I began the conversation.

That I was upset by his actions. That it was so easy for him to have helped me then, and how easy it would have made things for me too. How by choosing not to do so, he made it clear that he didn't care about me just then. That in life, as he grows, most of the choices he will be confronted with will boil down to just 2 things : whether he wants to be good or not. That he has full freedom to choose. And if he chose the latter, it may not make a big dent in his life, but inside, he knows what he did. And he knows whether that feels good or awful. But if he chose the good instead, even if it was at the cost of hurting himself, there was this wonderful chance that it would strengthen him from within. And make him feel right inside his heart.

I can only tell you all this stuff Winkie, I cannot make you 'realise' it. Because that is an inside job, and its your choice. And I am telling you this because I care about you, and I care about what you can become.


And with that, the words ran out. He heard me in full silence, with his head bowed down, and at the end he smiled  at the choice of one of my words, which only upset me further then, and I walked upstairs to me bedroom to lie down and just breathe out the burden of my emotions. And I realised why it hurt so much. Because I was so embroiled in him, and the fact that he was my son, and any behavior of his was a reflection of my influence on him as a mother, and the pain was from this feeling that he was letting me down. It was all incredibly misguided, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. And forced the illusion out of my head, though not permanently. I am sure I will have to go through many cycles of this pain to come to terms with the truth.

But just then, it was a relief to know that while I could only work to mold his character as best as was within my reach, the outcome of that was way out of my league of control, and hence my worry too. When you know you can't control something, the most practical thing you can do is be peaceful about it. That peace came to me in the form of some shut eye through a catnap.

But this evening, my son also came to me, all of his own accord, much after I had left him alone and to his thoughts, and told me softly....


Amma, I am sorry. 
I am sorry that I did not help you with Sathya. I am really sorry. 


And I looked down at his face and into his eyes, the penitence written all over him. Several seconds passed. I had already forgiven him in my head, the second he came up to me........but wanted him to feel the weight of that pregnant pause, as he waited to hear the much anticipated words of acceptance. So he looked into my eyes, and I into his, and the silence stretched just a little bit, and I finally said....It's okay. And kissed the top of his head, and his hands came around me.

Yes, you do need to apologise for any wrong that you want to make right, but sometimes when the reply comes only at the end of the stretch of silence, you get to realise how much it means to you, and what a privilege forgiveness really is.