Kamini
inhaled deeply and held her breath at the door, exhaling slowly through the
mouth as she approached the teachers’ table. High school kids sweated
differently; her nose itched at the overactive apocrine glands in the
classroom.
Alarmed
at the rising incidents of teen stress, the management had mandated a weekly
dose of moral science for the senior school. Her track record of lifelong
learning and a talent for seeing the larger picture had marked Kamini an ideal
life coach and her day was well underway. “Our lesson today is on assuming
responsibility for what we are and the person we want to be” she had barely begun,
marker pen poised on the white board.
“My
parents messed me up in the head Ma’am! I do not want to take the engineering
entrance. I want to become a scuba diver” Atul was first off the block, his
educated belligerence echoing in assessing eyes around the room.
Kamini
put the marker down, falling back into her chair heavily; this filial blame
game had begun to come up more and more. It sounded dissonant in a culture that
venerated parenting, a mother’s role in particular. She skimmed the faces
trained on her, “Are there others in this class who share Atul’s anger?” Shaily
pushed her chair back tentatively, “Yes Ma’am, it bothers me to have my mother
say she preferred being “my mum rather than a chum”. My friends have parents
they can really let their hair down with.” A titter rose at this from the far
corner where Bikram stood waving his hand, “Look, we did not ask to be born. I
think it is criminal to bring children into this chaotic world and then want to
control them completely.”
Kamini
turned towards the sound of a throat being cleared; it was Kriti, the school
head girl, “Ma’am, you have a social system so deep rooted in a judgmental
hierarchy, it is easy to look for someone or something to blame!”
The
ensuing silence was broken by a rude movement at the door. Shambhu, the
Principal’s peon did not stand on ceremony with any of the staff, least of all
with the teachers, “Madam Ji, Principal Sir wants you.” Shaking her head
at the howl of protest from the class at this interruption, Kamini hurried to
the lobby.
Taruna
Kalra and her mother were standing stiffly outside the Principal’s office, ragged
words clashing in low tones. “I feel repressed at home, I need space….there is
too much drama already in my life” the young girl was shaking with anger.
The
mother stood as though turned to stone. She had fixed her eyes at a spot on
Kamini’s hair. Her voice was a flat drone, “I am numb. My chest feels like I
have broken a rib. I did my best. I must not cry. You are treating me like I
were an invisible, middle aged woman”
“Get
yourself a life mother and stop worrying about me!” Taruna continued to lash
out, stung and hurting. Kamini watched the parent splinter in slow motion and the
daughter crack with an impotent fury; life could bring such pain. The two women
dragged on the laden air, blinking rapidly to swallow the salt pricking their
eyelids.
The
parent moved first; Kamini stepping back to make way. At the sound of the summon
bell from inside the office, Mrs Kalra broke stride and turned to look back at her
daughter, “I love you but you no longer resemble me. You resemble your
times!" Her daughter’s plaintive cry vainly tried to catch up, “Principal
Sir is calling us inside and now you are making me feel really alone!”
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