Ajit was furious. He had been reprimanded by his class teacher for not doing his homework properly. “It was the India vs Pakistan match yesterday,” he muttered, mutinously. “Others too submitted shoddy homework. Why pick on me?”
“Because you are intelligent,” retorted Shyam, his classmate and best friend.
“Arindam, why are you grinning?” asked Ajit, angrily. “If I kept studying continuously, I too would end up with four eyes like you.”
“Shut up,” hissed Shyam. “That was a mean thing to say.”
“Meet me at the badminton court in the evening,” retorted Arindam. “I’ll show you that books alone are not my forte.”
At lunch break, Vinay saw the aloo tikkis in Ajit’s lunchbox. “Yummy,” he exclaimed. “Has aunty again packed extra for us?”
“First of all, my mom is not your cook,” said Ajit. “Second, you may be a foodie but, on the football field, your kick is worse than a donkey’s.”
“Ajit,” warned Shyam. “Watch what you are saying!” Shyam was worried. Ajit lost his temper too easily and said mean things to others too often. So, he went to Ajit’s father.
“What did you say to my dad?” asked Ajit. “A complaint about me?”
“I wanted to know how the net run rate was calculated,” replied Shyam. “My dad is not interested in sports.”
A plan
His father too had also noticed that, when angry, Ajit did not realise how much he hurt others by the things he said. He decided that it was time his boy learnt anger management. Uncontrolled anger could affect his mental and physical health over time.
“Ajit,” shouted his father. “Please get me a packet of nails and a hammer. Also bring the wooden window frame in the storage room. I am waiting in the verandah.”
Ajit obeyed. If it had been his mother, he would have yelled that he was busy with school work. He did not dare to defy his father.
“See this wooden frame?” said his father. “It is now 8.00 a.m. Today, each time you lose your temper, hammer one nail into the wood. At 8.00 p.m., count the number of nails you have hammered over 12 hours.”
That night, Ajit was shocked to find that he had rammed in 10 nails over the course of the day. “Be proud that you are a master at losing your cool,” said his father.
Making good
Ajit vowed that, the next day, he would hammer fewer nails into the wooden frame. When evening came, the boy was delighted to find that he had hammered in only five nails that day!
“That is an achievement,” said his father. “Keep up the pace,”
“He means keep down the pace,” retorted his mother.
Ajit kept quiet. He did not want to hammer in a sixth nail at the end of the day. The next day, only two nails found their way into the wooden frame. The following day ended up as no-nail day.
“We are proud of you, Ajit!” said his father. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Pull out all the nails from the wooden frame.”
Ajit spent an hour the next day yanking out 17 nails from the wooden window frame. “What do you see in the window frame?” asked his father.
“17 holes,” replied Ajit.
“Each one is the hurt you cause when you angrily yell mean words at someone,” said his father. “You cannot remove that pain.”
Ajit felt ashamed. He hadn’t realised the pain he had caused by needlessly uttering hurtful words when he lost his temper.
“Ajit,” said his mother, gently. “Mean words hurled at someone can never be taken back. The hurt caused is irretrievable. Always remember this. Here, take this small cake. The window frame wants to thank you for not giving it any more wood-ache.”
(Adapted from a motivational tale by an unknown author).
