“Shush, papa. People are watching,” my daughter tells my husband as he drops her at the school gate and says a boisterous ‘goodbye dear, take care’. She runs away before he could finish his daily ‘call me in the evening in case you miss that No. 20 bus, I’ll pick you up” reminder.
Back in the car, he rolls his eyes. “What’s wrong with kids these days? Look at her! Why can’t she say goodbye?”
“She is late for school. That’s why,” I tell him. Since the last few months, I have been playing this role: dousing sparks before they turn into fire. And with two kids growing up way too fast, it’s twice the effort.
The irritants come think and fast and are often unexpected. “You are really going to wear that to office?” “Why have you put that family photo as your dp?’ Is this food?’ are a few of the seemingly innocent questions that, if left unchecked, have the power to create major turbulence in the family atmosphere.
It’s not just my husband. I too get the giggles, the huhs and the duhs! But I think I handle them better than my better half, meeting them halfway to make everyone’s day better. So, as much as I like to watch my regular soaps, I watch that teen drama on TV and commiserate with them about how brutal homework can be.
“They are growing up. Give them some space.” I try to reason with the man of the house one evening when he’s in his best mood.
“Well, they have their own rooms,” he replies. I give up. It’s no use lecturing my hubby on spaces and limits and teen psychology. He doesn’t seem to have grown much in the last decade or so. He still expects the kids to do cartwheels when he comes home with their favourite box of candy and just can’t accept their evolution into these wired beings who hardly look up from their mobiles when he gets home.
“Didn’t you ever go through this phase?” I sweetly ask him. “What phase?” he asks, wide-eyed.
“I mean, this growing up phase, when you felt your parents were from a different planet altogether.”
“No, he says. “Perhaps I was too busy chasing my dreams to notice it,” says my hubby, the self-made man.
What they now have
“You know what?” he continues. “Today’s kids have almost everything. They get what they ask for. We didn’t have TV or air-conditioning or even a landline phone when we were growing up. Did we?”
“Well, you can’t really blame them for the technological advancements”. I tell him, running the risk of inviting another ‘you always take the kids’ side’.
“Maybe,” he says. “But I am not sure they are growing up the way they should be. The only thing that bothers them is having low batteries and losing Wi-Fi”.
Just then, one of our ‘issues’ of concern, who’s back after a bite with his friends, butts in. “What’s up? What’s the debate about?
”Everything okay?” he asks, sensing the tension in the air.
“Oh, it’s nothing. We were just talking about how times have changed and...”, I start explaining, thinking it’ll be a good idea to let him know about our concerns. But he breaks in with a “Cool, carry on’, and walks away.
‘See, this is what I told you. They don’t even have time to listen to us.’ My husband grumbles. But before he could continue, the i-Gen steps in again. “By the way, papa, I was at this shop by the main road today and I saw this CD. Thought you’d like it,” he says, handing over the latest album of my husband’s favourite singer.
“Bought it with my savings for that guitar,” he adds, anticipating the next question.
A surprised ‘oh’ fills the room. I look at my husband. His face displays too many rasa s. I hide the huge wave of joy and relief welling up inside me.
After what seems like hours, he finally asks sheepishly, “They are not all that bad, are they?”
“No,” I tell him. “They are just growing up. Not growing away from you.”
I think I spotted a faint smile then. Maybe he’ll grow up with them as well.
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