A few days
back, there was a news clipping in one of the prominent English newspaper about
a study done regarding the parent-child relationship.
Quote
‘Kids make
people happy….when they’ve left home’
Parents who
still live with their children face financial worries, stress and anxiety.
The study
conducted by scientists in Germany studied 55000 people over the age of 50
living across Europe and found that people whose children have flown the nest
have greater satisfaction and fewer signs of depression.
Unquote.
This piece
of news set me thinking about how different we are!
We Indians have a totally different approach
to life as far as our children are concerned. We raise them without letting
them know how much it pinches us, even if it does. Most of us don’t even
register the pinch. We struggle, we sweat and lose our sleep over giving only
the best to our kids. The best of education, the best of extra-curricular life,
the best of living conditions, the best of food is what we work tirelessly for,
to give them. Our sole purpose of survival and struggle is to ensure a secure,
safe and happy environment in their upbringing. Our parents have done the same
and we inherit the same culture and create the same world for our children.
In majority
of households, the woman gives her career and her life the back seat once she
enters the stage of motherhood. Her day revolves around the children, their
food, their school, their sports and their home work and projects. Her time is
spent on planning their day, their food, their school and their dinnertime
specialties. Her morning is spent on dropping them off to school, afternoons
to bring them back home and evenings to ferry them from one extra class to
another. She creates her home around them. Her world revolves around them and
her thought process is completely taken over by her children. Even if she has a
career, either a job or a business, the work is adjusted to suit the needs of
the children. Often, set-backs in career are taken to fulfill the necessities of
home and career advancements are given up for ‘children’s sake’.
The fathers
too have their share of involvement. They work harder to keep the momentum, sometimes the vehicle running on one tyre. There is often a sacrifice of a good vacation
or a big buy because the fees and books and clothes and sports gear needs to be
bought. Often dreams are set aside to fulfill the aspirations of children. Loans
are taken, properties are sold, gold is mortgaged to give the child a dream
education or a dream wedding.
In all this,
we Indian parents not even once feel the pressure of raising our children. The
world that is complete with them, the joy of their smiles, the pride of their
achievement and the satisfaction of their settled lives gives us the deep sense
of having made ourselves good parents and good human beings. Someone has said,
“the ultimate happiness of life is when you know your children have become good
human beings”. We strive for that in that phase of life when we become parents
without the feeling of being burdened to fulfill these responsibilities.
All the
tears and the sweat is forgotten, all the pain of broken dreams vanishes and
all the struggles and heart breaks are worthwhile when at the end of the day,
we know that we have done our parents proud by being the parents they were to
us.
And then one
fine day, they fly away. Just like we have long, long ago. The world that
we have created comes to standstill. The home that was filled with noise and
clutter lapses into a deafening silence. The hour hand in the clock moves on
leaden feet.
We find ourselves engulfed by ‘the empty nest syndrome’.
We struggle
to find our life for ourselves all over again.
We struggle
to find a new meaning to our life all over again.
And yet,
life goes on.
This is what
we are.
Whatever the outside world may conclude!
A few lines
to express the feelings of all of us standing on that threshold with our hands empty
and eyes looking into that vacant space that was once cluttered-
HOUSE
FULL………..HOUSE EMPTY…………..
The house is
full, things strewn everywhere, the walls smudged with crayons.
Toys and
broken pencils, note-books and text books
With frayed
brown covers all over the floor, their rightful place
The
television blares out non-sense, and small bits of biscuits and wafers
Keep
obstructing the path to cleanliness
Even as the
curtains blow and the sofas get stained with
Bournvita
stained tiny hands.
In the
cacophony of routine, the lights go off and the water boiler shuts down.
Another
happy day without bath and off to school.
Crisp
uniforms and stainless white socks on polished black shoes
Tiffin’s
with surprises and home-work not done. Browned white shirts and smudged pants,
Back-packs pouring
out and sheer joy on tired faces.
Another dull
day of complete chaos.
Coughs,
colds, Doctor’s waiting room, anxiety, medicines and loads of pampering
New clothes,
bicycle accidents, scraped knees and tears
Years push
ahead. Festivals, family vacations and dinner time gossip come and go.
Pain, hurt,
heart-breaks and soothing hugs, a sure sign of growing up.
Lights burn
beyond mid-night, extra classes take the toll. Endless cups of tea.
Strained
faces and difficult schedules that become a load on the heart.
Dreams
dreamed and success achieved, all that takes away your and their years
Of carefree
youthfulness and adventures of growing up.
Yet you both
find joy in what lies ahead.
Excitement
of new independence. Taking away the dependence from you.
New life.
New friends. New decisions. New paths.
Slowly you
move to the fringes, trying to stand
and make
sense of the time on hand.
It’s no big
deal you say, they come to roost. Till its time up for you.
A bird flies
into the clear blue sky, next follows the second one.
You have
strengthened the wings and filled them with power,
You pride in
their flight and look towards the sky till the shadows disappear,
leaving a
shadow of doubt and anxiousness in tear-filled eyes.
The home is
spotlessly clean, the books sold to the paperman, the school pictures
Carefully
chronicled in the album.
The dining
table, the curtains, the empty beds are all that’s left.
Clean, dry,
lifeless.
You look
around. You look at each other.
We are all
that’s left.
The circle
from a full house to an empty house.
A complete
life. An incomplete phase.
Somewhere on
a tree a branch sways gently, a little bird lands with a twig.
A nest is
built, the floor strewn with toys and pencils.
The walls
smudged with crayons.
The house is
full……………………………….
