Soldiering on to the next page to earn screen time
As children we were encouraged (can be loosely interpreted as forced) to read every evening. A specified amount of reading done during the week was the only way we were allowed to watch half an hour of the much-awaited Chitrahar, which basically was a string of film songs.
What started out as a chore soon became an activity that I began to look forward to. An introvert, books became my favourite companions. I showed no discrimination; the pages could be a narrative of war, a one-sided love story, a journey through space, tales of the third portal or of Greek tycoons who would woo the damsel to a fairy-tale ending, I lapped it all up.
Like most parents of my vintage (raising teenagers), I find myself on the losing side of the battle against the attack electronic gadgets have unleashed onto our lives, constantly challenging and putting my child-rearing skills to test.
Add to this the onslaught of the everexpanding social media apps. I had barely mastered the art of spying on my elder one’s ‘page’ under an alias, and my younger son informed me rather cheekily “Mama, he knows you are checking up on him. Naina is you. For your information, Veerji has moved onto a different ‘handle’ on a more picture-intensive app.” With that information, I was back to square one. Luckily, some of my kids’ friends found me pretty agreeable so they became online ‘friends’ with me, in turn allowing me an insight into my children’s virtual life and my rapidly slipping, parental grip intact.
AS PROOF OF THIS GADGET EPIDEMIC, ON MY NIGHTSTAND LIE THREE BESTSELLERS, WHICH GET DUSTED EVERY DAY, AND ARE NOW SERVING AS A BASE TO THE BEDSIDE LAMP
But to my dismay, I find I too have not been spared the temptations of the world wide web, which eats into productive hours exactly like the Pacman monster ate the discs. I would sit down to write an email, as an involuntary reflex my hand would reach for my phone, and before I knew it, I had already spent 15 minutes looking at other people’s holiday pictures, as well as bought a watermelon deseeder (in the month of November). As proof of this gadget epidemic, on my nightstand lie three bestsellers, which get dusted every day, and are now serving as a base to the bedside lamp, because it is so much easier to simply watch the series on internet TV.
Cleaning up my father’s study, I found a 16-book set of an encyclopaedia, which further highlighted the contrast of my growing up years to the present. When we would ask our parents for information about a place, history or even help with a school project, we were asked to refer to the encyclopaedia, search for the information and then share it with the family during dinner as a part of table conversation. These days, I’m having trouble getting my younger one to even refer to a dictionary, thanks to Google.
A family meeting resulted in the resolution. Screen time is going to be in direct proportion to the time spent reading a book, this rule is going to apply to the mother as well. I find my resolve wavering every now and then and the temptation to cheat, shut my book, place it back under the lamp, grab a packet of chips and settle down to binge watch on Netflix creeps back into my existence. Then motherly love kicks in, I must lead by example, and soldier on to the next page, till I have earned my screen time.