Skip to main content

The most precious gift for a child....






A smart, thin, tall teenage boy with specs enters into my consulting room along with his mom. Mom is dressed in a sari, a mangalsutra, a bindi and green bangles.

He sits quietly while his mom starts talking to me. She talks to me in Hindi, asked me for permission to start in Marathi. Then the words and the expressions come in a flow and carry the emotions on top like waves in the ocean. Just as the waves come and go and it is a never-ending process, the mom wanted to go on and on pouring her heart out to me.

I was getting very restless and agitated as I wanted her to stop talking. Something feels uneasy in my heart and I get this sinking kind of a feeling, energy around me starts feeling very prickly because the mom went into this flow of criticising the boy in front of me. I was transported to the time when I was bathing in this criticism as a child. It was too much to take and the inner child in me pleaded her to stop. I had made peace with my emotional wounds but the boy was getting restless and I didn't want him to get any emotional wounds. His body language was constantly changing. He looked towards me and then to his mom and then decided to dig his eyes into the floor. I was not happy with the conversation and asked the parent to stop.

I took permission from this boy and then asked him to wait out. And then allowed the mom to speak. She was not happy with the academic performance of her son. Writing is slow and reading is slow. He does not complete his work in school and was a brilliant boy earlier. He is now becoming defiant and not listening at home. He even backanswers. He does not have friends and is lonely. This is getting bad and terrible. She wanted me to do therapy to help him.

I took her permission and called the boy in. I requested mom to wait out. And as soon as the mom was out of the room, everything changed. This timid looking boy, who was sitting with shoulders drooping, gaze fixed on the floor suddenly changed.

He looked straight into my eyes. His shoulders and spine were up with chest out, chin up. I was really shocked. He started speaking with me in very fluent English with a lovely accent. He was very expressive. He told me that - “I know that my parents feel that therapy will help me but I choose not to write. I choose not to read. I will not study no matter how much ever therapy they give me. What do you think of me?”. I thought I was supposed to answer but he went on “I am intelligent and understand everything that is taught in school. But I will not do anything. I will let my grades suffer”.

I allowed him to speak. And then when I thought it was right, I asked him how can I help him? He told me that he needs his parents time and that was all. He again started “My dad is too busy making a career. He took me to Dubai when I was little. I was doing very well there and made good friends. And then they got me to Baroda. I somehow settled in a year’s time and adjusted to the change in the learning style and the curriculum. I started making friends. And just as I had settled they got me to Mumbai”.

“Now again, I am not accepted by my classmates and they think differently and behave differently. While the teacher is teaching, I am thinking of how to fit into some group as I feel lonely”.

I was now getting to understand what this boy is going through. He told me that his mom is always busy doing household work and does not have time to understand or listen to what is happening in his life. His dad is never available.

Whenever he is watching TV, he is asked to take care of his younger sister and play with her. He told me that he loves his sister too much but does not want to babysit.

And then once he was done talking, I asked him again about “How can I help him?” and he said rather begged
“I don’t want any therapy to help me. Please ask my parents to give me time and understand me. I just want to talk to them not to get answers or solutions but just talk.”

And he broke down into tears after this statement. I was numb and was starting to wonder what is happening. He was fine immediately and smiled as if everything is fine.

I called the mom in again. This time like a mature adult, the boy told me that he will wait out. His mom agreed to everything that he said and herself mentioned that her son didn’t need therapy but “time” from his parents. She never saw things from his perspective.

I was shaken up and left with multiple questions in my mind about what was my lesson from this interaction and from this boy???!!!!!





Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I believe in angels...something good in everything I see......

Ever since I was a little girl, I remember asking the universe (Waheguru/God/Allah/Almighty) for signs for everything I did in my life..... The universe is very very systematic in which nothing happens just by accident or just by chance or coincidence. Everything is for a reason which is what I believe..... My relation with the universe has grown just the way I have grown. The signs that the universe sends are mysterious and I always marvel at the ways things are communicated by the source. So now, I have decided to shift my Andheri centre of Khushi to a new place. The day I went for a meeting, angels sent me signs that I was on the right track and divinely guided. Next, I decided to get the place done before we shift and then came a series of things that have left my mouth wide open every time they happened. In my first visit I was finalising the contractor to get the repairs work done for the flat and was a little worked up. And there I saw a white butt...
Post a Comment
Read more

Another Dusshera....same feelings!!!

Another Dusshera again.... Time to burn a Raavan once again!!! Here I was dressed in my light green color frock, 8 years old, jumping with a group of 10-15 friends. We were just jumping from one house to another. My aim was to cover as many neighbors houses as possible and to give the “sona” to everyone -the green gold( leaves of Apta tree). Not worried that my dress was all muddy, the body was sweaty, hair in a mess, smelling like a pig holding the green gold with dirty hands. But “looks” were not important,”feelings” were..... I remember holding just 3-4 leaves in my hand and worried about them. And in the time when we moved from one house to another, I would break every single leaf into 4-7 smaller pieces so that I could give it to everyone. And we all would say “Shubh Dusshera” and take blessings from elders. And while giving the small part of the apta leaf, a silent prayer would go into the universe asking for happiness and prosperity for the family. We were so i...
Post a Comment
Read more

You judge me...I judge you!!

Sometimes, I am a very judgemental person... Sometimes, my friends are very judgemental..about me... Sometimes, my relatives are very judgemental...about me But why I am thinking about all this... Because it HURTS when someone judges me and it hurts the others when I judge them...it gives emotional wounds and I really don’t want them or to even give them. So why do I do that? Why do others do that? Deep down, all that I want is that people should understand me and people want me to understand them. But somewhere, the default strategy is to spring back into being judgemental... Judgement cuts my self-esteem and self-confidence like a sharp knife. But this game of passing the blame goes on day in and day out for all the waking hours. Today morning my husband spoke to someone and he judged him, I gave him the “gyaan” of not being judgmental and understanding the perspective of the other. Also told him to see the complete picture before arriving at a conclusion. ...
Post a Comment
Read more