I was never the kind of girl, who would stop in the middle of a mall to play with babies. I refrained from being around those little chubby beings who usually ended up getting a lot of attention for just being themselves. I was too scared to even hold one.
A big part in me, changed when I found out there was a life growing inside of me. While growing up, I had to beat my brains out to maintain the rat’s nest growing on my head and ensure the nail paint stays well within its boundary. “What kind of a mother will I be?” I would imagine and feel sorry for my future daughter with messy ponytails. I often had nightmares. But thankfully, I was blessed with a son. And soon I realised it comes with additional responsibilities!!
As the maternal instincts started to kick in, I made a mission to learn new things in those nine months. I learnt cooking and read tons of articles about babies and child psychology. During those nine months, many women rubbed my growing round belly and threw in some great, not so great advices. It often sounded like, “If you do ….. your child will grow up like mine.”. Most of the times, my brains would go “ok!! I don’t like your children.” I was confused all the time.
Society looks with disdain on moms who don’t do everything perfectly. After the child is born, for most of the women its a dark, lonely, scary, and uncertain time. And of course the guilt creeps in when the journey is a little far from perfect !
I was given a big fat ‘F’ in this course called motherhood because my son was a little skinny (not underweight) and wasn’t fair (he had a wheatish complexion).
It went on till my son began to understand the words. I would fill with rage when few so called ‘cultured’ women, spoke about my son’s appearance in front of him.
Then I decided to take things in my hands. I never answered back to them. Instead I started telling my son stories of Nelson Mandela and racism. I engrained in his mind the concept of unconditional love and respect. I taught him the importance of good heart and an open mind over a superficial appearance.
Once, over the dinner table, there was a comment passed by an elder about a woman looking older than her age. Jokes were made and after reaching home, my six year old son asked me, “Mummy, was that the correct way to talk about some ones appearance? I think that was very rude.”, I was proud. I knew I had done something right.
All the labels and grade, I was put in, suddenly disappeared and I hugged him very tight. He is naughty and does pick up fights in school. He is a regular boy and I let him be. He can become brutally honest sometimes. Well, I am working on that.
Since then, there have been numerous occasions where my son took me by surprise. Another incident took place when my friend came home with her daughter. She wanted to leave early, when I insisted her to stay a little longer she said, “My husband is going to yell at me if I am late”. After she left, my son said, “Durga maa (a Hindu Goddess) is going to be very upset with her husband”. He remembered the stories I would tell him about how women should be respected and their place in the society. He respects the fact that I work and appreciates me for my achievements. I never shy away from apologising to him when I do something wrong. So he is never afraid to tell the truth.
We cannot protect our children all the time. They will come across such atrocities at every turn as they grow up. I tell him stories about lot of different concepts. It does take time to frame the right words but in the end it is worth it. I refrain from using adjectives like pretty, fair or slim. I don’t read him books where women are only pretty and men are only strong. I teach him to assess more and judge less.
I cannot change the world, but I can groom a boy to become a man with wisdom and do my part as a mother.