Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual

It often amazes me how much we learn from our children. The forced quarantining at home has focused our attention to the little things children do and say, which would previously get lost in the humdrum of the routine we had five months ago.

We recently ordered a new toy for the children to play at home. When the much-awaited box came, there was palpable excitement around. We got down on all fours and cut open the box. After peeling through layers of polystyrene, there it lay ensconced in bubble wrap, in all its glory, the big blue box of magnetic tiles.

My younger one wouldn’t stop jumping in jubilation, while the older one, who is also quite the builder when it comes to stacking and constructing, skilfully opened the box. She emptied the tiles on the mat, and inspected them closely, feeling their texture, and running her fingers along the edges.

The tiles looked stunning. They were in all colours of the rainbow and their translucence made them appear almost magical. I spotted the instruction manual in the kit and began making different structures. Every now and then, I would urge my elder daughter to pick up the manual and see which design she wanted to build. While I spent all my energy following the instructions to the tee, my daughter continued to make abstract designs and get acquainted with each piece in the box.

Half an hour later, she was still doing the same. A tad peeved by her nonchalance, I handed her the manual and told her to make something looking at the given designs. “But mama, my creativity gets spoilt by following rules,” said my seven-year-old. “How is that darling?” I asked, for lack of a better response, quite taken aback with her observation. “Manuals have only a few designs, but if I make them without looking at the instructions, I can make a hundred, thousand, million designs!” she said matter-of-factly.

She crumpled the manual and set it aside, now behaving more like the sevenyear-old I was comfortable dealing with.

I swiftly put away the wrinkled manual, and we continued to make colourful ducks and castles and rockets and skyscrapers all evening.

I’m not sure whether it is age or social conditioning or some other external or personal factor, but as we grow, more often than not, we tend to become pedantic in life, some more than others. We prefer to follow the norm at the cost of even joy and happiness. We judge harshly if some of us choose to beat their own drum.

Who is to say which is the right way to live? Is a worthy life one wherein all boxes have been ticked, in an orderly, timely fashion? Or is it measured in the moments lived fully? Is it in climbing the so-called success ladder at a breakneck speed or finding one’s path, as off the beaten it may be? These are questions we must ask ourselves time to time.

Thank you dear daughter for the reminder that life does not come with an instruction manual, then why should toys?

IS A WORTHY LIFE ONE WHEREIN ALL BOXES HAVE BEEN TICKED IN A TIMELY FASHION? OR IS IT MEASURED IN MOMENTS LIVED FULLY?