A ‘gandi mumma’ and her perfect children

Iwas far from an ideal mother. Never too indulgent nor too self sacrificing. I wasn’t overly concerned about my children’s strife and struggles. I didn’t wait outside the gates, biting my nails or praying silently like other parents.

I would rather use the free time to watch a movie or shop in the neighbourhood if I ever accompanied them for an outstation exam. I didn’t rustle up a dish because they didn’t like what was on the table. Once when my son complained how I didn’t give him choices, I told him he had the option of not eating dinner.

I was not the unconditionally loving and giving parent. I ensured that the children did their bit. School was compulsory and if they had to stay home on account of sickness, I made certain they didn’t have fun, insisting they were on complete bed rest. I have zealously guarded my personal space. Not more than two short bells on my phone if I am in my clinic, at a conference or with friends.

My afternoon nap always was, and still is, sacrosanct. No intrusion allowed unless it is a life or death situation.

I wasn’t surprised then, when I found out that I was listed as ‘gandi mumma (bad mother)’ in my daughter’s contact list. The truth is I had fun bringing them up, sometimes at their expense. Parenting for me has been about practical jokes and shared laughter. Once when my daughter was watching a horror film in which snakes were jumping around, I threw a toy snake at her, timing it to perfectly match the antics of the onscreen serpents.

Unless it entailed bodily harm I have tried not to say “no” and let them figure it out on their own. So I let my son try to make honey with carefully collected pollen and his own saliva. When he excitedly declared that they were selling motorcycles at Rs 100 a piece, instead of reasoning with him, I gave him money to buy two.

The most important thing I have tried to teach them is the ability to tide through downtrends. When my son was little, he would cry and throw the game if he started to lose in Ludo. I would coolly take his turn while he sulked and deliberately made wrong moves till he was compelled to play again. I wanted him to believe that a bad spell wouldn’t last.

It wasn’t all fun and games though. Once my 12-year-old son secretly rode his scooty for 10 km on a deserted village road to get a notebook, which he had forgotten despite reminders. He took the risk to avoid being reprimanded by me. That day I realised that we should not make such a big deal out of sloppiness that kids design elaborate and risky cover-ups. Guardians shouldn’t be such fearsome authoritarians that children make bigger mistakes trying to hide smaller ones. Children should be able to think of their parents as the first line of defence, no matter what. So I have learnt my lessons, too.

Recently, my daughter planned a surprise birthday party for me, sending out beautifully crafted invitations to all my present and past friends. With my indulgent son-in-law’s help, she laboured for days to make everything just perfect. My son surprised me with a new iPad. They are the ideal children, you will agree. And so I dare say, the title of ‘gandi mumma’ notwithstanding, I must have done something right.

GUARDIANS SHOULDN’T BE SUCH FEARSOME AUTHORITARIANS THAT CHILDREN MAKE BIGGER MISTAKES TRYING TO HIDE SMALLER ONES.