Give this boy six months please, Miss Principal

As a parent of a 10 and a half year old (as of May 2022), I realise that our faith in our children is not something that comes by default. You have to work at it sometimes. There are areas where our kids can be so off-target on learning something, for instance. You start to worry. A couple of months pass, and the situation doesn’t change. Then you start to worry a lot. Soon enough, it shows in your behaviour, in your language, and before long, you’re being a horrible parent – giving off vibes of having little faith in your child, shaking your head, making them feel worse about themselves, and so on. If you’re a parent maybe you’ve been through that, at some point. You forget that this ability, too, shall come.

The good news is that in spite of all of this, there comes a day when, all of a sudden, your child has got it! Whether it’s the swimming stroke, or the right way to bat, or to catch a ball… there it is, they’re now doing it like pros. You wonder what all the fuss was about. You reflect on it, solemnly swear to yourself you’ll be more patient the next time…. ha ha.

With all the modern parenting articles, pearls of wisdom, books et al, we constantly make these well intentioned mistakes. Yet, as I reflect on my own late father, an incident comes to mind, when he could have made different choices.

Back in the late 70s, my dad was transferred from Hyderabad, in Southern India, to Jaipur, which is in the North-West. Much as there are quite a few differences, one of the main differences is in the local language. The local language in Andhra Pradesh is Telugu, and the local language in Jaipur is Hindi. As a young kid of 6, I could speak Telugu well, but was barely a beginner in Hindi. The school we were meant to join in Jaipur held an assessment test for me and my older sister. She passed with flying colours. I was okay in the other subjects, but got a royal zero in Hindi. I remember asking my sister for help during the assessment, but I was so far behind in Hindi that it was no good.

Cut to the Principal of BrightLands Public school having a chat with my Dad. She was happy to give admission to my sister, but not to me. She said she can’t have a child who is so far behind in Hindi, he just won’t fit with the school.

Here is where I think about my Dad’s reaction a lot. He had a choice to make here. He could accept the decision and look for another school that didn’t emphasise Hindi. Mind you, that would have left me relatively ostracized as a child, because this is a Hindi speaking state. Instead, he said to the Principal, ‘Madam, please could you give this boy six months. There is a half-yearly exam in six months time. If he fails in Hindi, I will gladly take him out myself. But please could you have faith in him. I believe he’s a quick learner, and he will not disappoint you. Several minutes later, the lady relented, and gave me a ‘provisional’ admission to the lovely school, for six months.

The rest may be history as far as I’m concerned, but this is more about my Dad and not so much about my ‘quick learning’. How did my father have so much faith in me, a little thing barely 6 years old? How was he so sure that I would do it? Would I have done the same thing for my son? I just feel so grateful and blessed, beyond what words can explain, for what my Dad did. There is no doubt, whatsoever, that my life would not have been the same, had it not been for that choice that he made. Hindi is my favourite language. I write much better songs in Hindi than in English. Hindi movies and music have given me some of the most joyous moments of my life. All because my Dad knew, somewhere, that this too shall come. It just needed time.

The next time my son drops a catch, or hits a bad shot, I’d do well to remember that.