Life lessons from the little guy

For past few years, I’ve been so much bogged down by negativity around me, especially colleagues whose professionalism, or the lack of it, drove me nuts. I was having trouble to fathom how people can be so irresponsibly idiotic and so callous at the same time. One common thread across all those characters I could find was that they were all connected to someone seriously higher up on the echelons and had their backing and blessing for no reason obvious to me. I decided to quit fighting the shadows and reset my priorities and opted for something that I didn’t want to do in first place. I had to shelve a lot of my ambitions and goals and literally kick myself into being someone I hated and like a soldier simply following orders without bothering on the logic, I forced myself into a different routine. Needless to say the pinpricks and ego bashing were severe and took a toll on me with stress levels shooting up to stratosphere. I seldom manage to compartmentalize issues and till the time my fair share of explosion hasn’t happened, it never feels satisfactory. Swallowing pride and turning back on a conflict are never my strong points, when I know for sure I am being unfairly targeted. But all said and done, if at all there is one thing that I look forward to at the end of the day, is the call “appa” when I open the door to my house and a warm hug from junior.

He has a sing song way of calling me and the moment he see me at the door, he would rush to me and “order” me to take him outside to say his “hi” to “alaa” (nila in tamil, moon in English. But ala it is for him). If it’s cloudy or if the moon is not visible, he would keep calling for it to appear and needs convincing and cajoling that his “alaa” has gone out on an errand and he can say his “tata bye” later. He would still insist on saying his “bye” himself and would direct me where to take him next. It’s probably the only thing that I look out for nowadays, that five minutes with him where he would find some use in me, for the moment we step into the house, he is all mom’s. It’s been more than a decade since the call for “Appa” is heard in our house. The realization has not stuck yet that it’s me who is being addressed as such, but whenever I hear the cry for “Appa” I still keep visualizing my dad, rather than me being the person.

There is so much we can and need, to learn from kids, but we rather end up forcing our thoughts on them, trying to make them miniature replicas of our own selves. They find happiness in even the simplest and silliest of things. Junior doesn’t need a fancy toy for engaging himself. A mere lid of a bucket brings him so much joy when he twirls it on the floor like a left handed Warne. He is fascinated by colors and shapes, as basically everything is new for him and is worth analyzing. When you see him play with mundane things, then only you realize that such a utility is available within those items which make it a toy for him. As much as he gets glued to his mom and being overly protective of her, believe me even when you try to play hit her, he will jump on you and bite the skin of your body, he has his own set of people, segmented time wise, as his play mates. But the moment the clock ticks past 6, its mommy time and nothing in the world can console him or replace her. Sensing my jealousy all across, yeah you are right.

The main thing that I’ve observed from his actions is that, anything can be considered trivial or important, but it’s how you look at it makes the difference. Be it a toy or a lid, end of the day, it’s what you want to make out of it and not what it should be made out for.