FRAGILE CHILDHOOD

One day, during a conversation with my 12-year-old daughter, Vrinda, she told me, “Aannya, my friend, is just an average student in the class.”

“How can you say that?” I asked.

Vrinda replied, “She scored 80% on the exams, and most of my classmates got more than 90%.”

I made light of the situation and said, “In that case, you must be considered a below-average student since you scored only 65%.” We both ended up laughing.

When Vrinda was in primary school, she once came to me and asked, “How do I learn the textbook answers? It’s difficult to memorize word for word.”

I advised her, “Just read the text carefully and write what you understood in your own words, like a story.”

She did exactly that and found it easy. After her school test, she told me that her teacher did not give her full marks for her answers.

I reassured her, “But you understood the concept. Don’t worry about the scores.”

Vrinda continued this approach throughout her academic years. At every parent-teacher meeting, the teachers told me, “Vrinda is a smart girl but makes many silly mistakes, spelling errors, is not focused, talks too much, and uses casual language in writing, which is not acceptable.” I listened attentively.

At home, I chose not to lash out at my daughter. Instead, I thought about how to help her improve her Hindi spelling. I came up with an idea. I went to the market and bought a Hindi primary storybook, four levels below her age, and a few colored pens. I took the 10 easiest words and gave her a dictation. All the spellings were wrong. Without reacting, I wrote the correct spellings in different colors. She enjoyed it.

The next day, I gave her the same 10 words again, and this time she got one correct. Every day, I did the same until she got 5 words correct, and then I introduced 5 new words.

The first week went well, but soon Vrinda realized it wasn’t fun anymore.

She said, “Why are you doing this to me? The same story, and the same words every day. It’s so boring. I won’t do it anymore. You’re a bad mom.” She started crying.

I said, “If you keep fighting and crying about it, it will take much longer. Otherwise, it will only take 5 minutes. It’s up to you. I’m not going anywhere until you finish it.”

She tried her best to manipulate me for an hour. I kept listening to her. If I hadn’t been meditating, I would have reacted for sure. After an hour, she understood she had to do it and that I wouldn’t give up. She finished the 10-word dictation in 5 minutes.

This continued for four months. At every parent-teacher meeting, the teacher kept criticizing me. It was difficult to keep everything inside and not tell my daughter and husband. After six months, Vrinda surprised herself and her teachers by writing many difficult words on her own.

I still remember that when I used to annoy Papa and misbehave, he never shouted back, never gave an angry look, or used harsh words. What I saw in his eyes was amazing: an infinite ocean of love and patience. It was so beautiful how his anger transformed into love every time. No theory, no psychology—only pure love that he had inside him. Surprisingly, my anger vanished when I saw those loving eyes. Sometimes, I intentionally pushed him to get angry just to see those eyes again. I was deeply in love with those eyes and wanted the same for myself. He is no longer with us, but whenever I close my eyes, I can feel his love.

Poem

When I was unreasonable and crying, he quietly sat beside me,
Listening patiently for hours, it always remained with me,
His deep ocean, lovely eyes.
When fear troubled me at night,
I ran to him and hugged him tight.
Suddenly, I felt so brave,
I challenged demons around,
My first experience of fearlessness in Papa’s arms.