23 October 2016


My father was asked to deliver my sister's lunch box to school. He was to say "Kaberi Das" and "4th grade" to the nun at the office. When my father reached the school, it transpired that there were two girls called Kaberi Das studying in the 4th grade! My father not having a clue about the complexities of classes and sections was then presented with both the girls. As the story goes, it seems that none of the girls was his daughter!
The nun, being kind and patient agreed to take my father for a short tour of all the sections of the 4th grade to identify the missing daughter. They walked down the corridor peering into all the classes and inquiring about the presence of a Kaberi Das in the class. However, the exercise proved futile.
By now, a very worried parent and the nun were desperate to resolve this dilemma. They were hurrying back to the office to check on the records when suddenly my father spied a familiar face sitting in the first bench of class 5A. It was the real Kaberi Das, his daughter!
It so transpired that my poor sister had been sitting in the wrong class for almost a whole month of the academic year with the wrong books and my very puzzled mother every evening struggling to make sense of the home-work  given.
The student, the teacher, the school and the parent had no clue that such a muddle that been going on.
Almost four decades have passed by since that 'confusion', and Kaberi Das has become Kaberi Bhuyan, a successful C.A, wife and mother.
My parents, whatever their parenting style, have produced two happy children.

Parenting has become a difficult job these days with all the information available. It is a tough choice between being a Tiger or a Free-Range Parent. Every child has a unique personality. No two children are similar (even from the same parent) and no parenting style can be 'the best one'.
I was never too serious about life and my parents didn't force things on me. I am still not serious about things but life is okay!
In the school where I teach, its Open Day for parents every Friday. I wait patiently for them to walk into my class to discuss their child's progress. As I sit and listen to them, I remember my 'lost' sister and my confused dad searching in the corridors of another school a long time ago and a smile spreads across my face.

No comments:

Post a Comment