Our Children’s Children
Dolly Koghar is repentant of the lost opportunities with her own brood.
Well, the school year has barely started and it’s already a term break. Just before these dratted holidays, my grandson’s elementary school had an ‘International Week,’ during which parents were invited to give a talk on their respective countries in their kids’ class; about which we were getting a daily, blow-by-blow account. Which was fine and dandy, til our grandson suddenly wanted us to come and do a presentation on India; he even offered to make the slide for us to show his peers and teachers. I’m shy, whereas hubby dear is a natural, so I quickly passed the buck to him. But so engrossed was he in the gadget in his palm, that without looking up, he gave a snappy refusal.
Dejected, the little chap trudged of without another word, crestfallen and resigned to a no-show from his family. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held my peace till I heard him strumming on his guitar. I then turned to hubby, sat him up, looked him in the eye, and said, “Here’s our cherub of a grandson, who thinks we white-haired, stooping oldies are ‘cool’ enough to be introduced to his buddies; moreover, he’s confident that we’ll impress them. So, instead of taking it as a nuisance and waste of a day, shouldn’t we be flattered, and consider ourselves blessed?” The melodrama worked. The next day we were in school, as early as a whole hour ahead of schedule; a hard-to-kick Japanese habit.
Despite the earlier fuss and nakhra, once on ‘stage’, hubby dear transformed into a showman; he instantly formed a rapport with the 7-year-olds with his infectious enthusiasm and interactive style. Together, they tapped into ‘Mr. Google’ for the number of languages spoken in Bharat; of which there are 22 officially-recognise languages, over 120 unofficial languages, and more than 200 mother tongues spoken in homes! Dadoo came home satisfied with a job well-done, which doubled that evening with a thumbs-up from our potta. Next morning, we were back in school for the culmination of both the term and international week with a parade of the elementary tots in their national costumes; featuring our grandson in a kurta-pyjama, followed by a song we’d been hearing him practice for the last few weeks.
Heading home, nostalgia of long bygone days swept over me: the times when I’d watched his papa, my son, or any of my three girls take part in similar parades or on stage, performing cute little ditties. Mostly, it was just me, since their pop was either travelling or in his Osaka office, he tried to be there for their sports days, where we ran with them, and when they grew taller than us, we watched them from the sidelines. Then there were the oh-so-many times I’d sat on the small, low elementary class stools, not believing that it was my child that the teacher was attesting as well-behaved, co-operative, obedient, and attentive!
But those memories were tinged with remorse and guilt – I’d shortchanged my own four, compared to the enthusiasm and effort I was now investing into my grand-kiddos’ activities and interests. Although I’d paid enough attention to their academic progress and talents, little did I realise that what mattered more was my presence; silently affirming that, “I see you and I hear you, it’s perfectly ok whether you scored high or low, whether you won or lost a game, or made a big boo-boo on stage; I am here for you!” For me, back then, it was a disruption and a nuisance. Regrettably, I bartered those precious opportunities in exchange for keeping the house spick-and-span and placing a tasty, hot meal on the table, set with matching mats and cutlery.
But then, I can’t be blamed; my own children weren’t nearly as lovable and cute as this lil’ fella or any of our other grandchildren! In Punjabi we say, “soodh, mool naloh piyaree.” Translated, “the interest accrued is dearer than the initial sum,” i.e. to grandparents, the offspring of our own offspring are our real treasures!
