|
 |
 |
 |
| 'Like' us on Facebook | Follow us: |  |
 |
 |
 |
Posted on: Aug 07, 2020
Tough Love
By Mrs Radhika Brahmanandam
One of the big challenges that every parent in the world faces is how to correct your teenager without leading to any negative emotion. Is that possible? How to do this effectively? Mrs Radhika Brahmanandam shares a perspective through a story based on her own life experience.
Aarti sighed. Her daughter, Rhea, was throwing a tantrum. Again. At fifteen years of age, Rhea was in the midst of her troublesome teen years. Everything was extreme – the laughter, the tears, and the anger, even the sheer energy and exuberance of youth.
It seemed as if she believed that the bright and beautiful world belonged to her and that everything and everyone in it would swirl around the fulcrum of her needs and wants.
“I have nothing to do!” Rhea complained. “You are away at work the whole day, and when you are at home, you are in the kitchen. Even after dinner, you again take up your laptop and go back to work.”
It was the beginning of the summer vacation. Most of Rhea’s friends had already left the city to visit with grandparents or cousins. Her best friend, Raji, was vacationing at a hill station. Rhea’s family would leave the city only by the end of the month - that was still a good fortnight away.
Aarti tried reasoning with her. “I have to finish this work for an important meeting coming up in a week’s time, darling. Once that is over, I should be a little freer. I have taken leave for a fortnight from the beginning of the next month.”
“Raji returns home next week. I will be busy with her then. I don’t need you,” retorted Rhea rudely. “You don’t love me at all. At least Dad spends a little time with me on the weekends. Even then you are cooking or cleaning or working on that stupid laptop of yours. I hate you!” Rhea stomped angrily back to her room.
Aarti turned wearily back to her laptop. She looked at the time. It was already 10 pm. Sanjay, her husband, had called to say that he would be home late since an emergency surgery had to be performed on an accident patient. He was flying out for a weekend seminar the next day, and wouldn’t be home till Monday.
 |
She rubbed her aching neck as she reflected on the past week. The staff of the small division that she headed were all working at a frenetic pace, geared up for the crucial meeting coming up on Wednesday.
Leaving the office well past closing time was still a wrench: her team would be there almost till midnight. At home, managing the household, caring for her extremely busy and successful surgeon husband and her highly energetic and demanding daughter, Aarti often felt like Alice in Through the Looking Glass who realised she had been running just to stay in the same place.
An hour later, she wearily put away her laptop and went into her daughter’s room. She smoothed the little cross furrow line away from the sleeping girl’s forehead, and bent to plant a little kiss on the cheek still wet with tears.
Her glance fell on the open page in the diary next to the bed. “I do wish mama would love me more!” Rhea had written. Tears sprung to her eyes - how much more could she do?
Quietly, she tiptoed away and went to the living room, where she would usually spend a few minutes reading a book on Swami’s teachings before she retired for the night.
Swami’s smiling face looked down calmly at her from the picture on the wall.
“Swami, what more can I do? I do love her so much. And I am doing the very best I can. Why is Rhea so difficult? Why can’t she be more loving and helpful? Can’t she see I am doing so much for her? Why, even today, I cooked her favourite dish. Last week, I bought her the shoes she has been asking for. And in a fortnight, we are going on vacation too. What more can we do?”
She had no energy to read that night. Leaving the book open on the table by the windowsill, she went to bed.
The “Toughness” in “Tough Love”
It was still dark when she awoke the next morning. She sat down with her cup of tea in her favourite chair and looked up at the beautiful picture of Swami.
The eyes that looked down at her seemed to send forth a gush of compassionate understanding. She sighed and a little smile curved up her lips.
“Swami, You know me so well. You understand me and accept me just as I am! I love you Swami! You do have the love of a thousand mothers!”
The love of a mother - so understanding, compassionate, non-judgemental… Aarti sat up straight suddenly.
Did she, a mother, accept and love her daughter as she was? Did she understand her or even try to? Was she too quick to pass judgement? She prided herself on practising “tough love” in her parenting style. Was her discipline truly based on unconditional motherly love? Was she just using discipline as an excuse to cover her own inadequacies?
She went into Rhea’s room again. Looking down at the sleeping child, she pondered, “Yes, Rhea is different as compared to what I had been at that age. But then, aren’t other things different as well?”
 |
She had grown up in a family where grandparents lived with them and relatives and cousins lived nearby. The community where she had lived had a number of children, and there was always a child or two to play with.
Today, they lived in a city far away from their hometown. As in most homes presently, grandparents lived away and relatives were spread not just across the country but also all over the world. Aarti and her family lived in an apartment complex where there were hardly any children of Rhea’s age.
When Rhea asked her to take her to a mall, she had been quick to judge: “Why do you always have to shop? We never had these many things in those days!” When she would beg her to go with her to a restaurant, she would snap “Why that place? That’s so expensive!” And the arguments would start: endless and cyclical, neither giving way to the other.
Aarti adjusted the bedcovers over the sleeping girl and walked quickly out. With other mothers of her friends’ group, it had been so easy to toss out judgements on ‘children these days’, as they exchanged notes on how unmanageable they were…
What about “mothers these days”? Aarti couldn’t escape that uncomfortable thought: Balancing a hundred things, trying to be superwoman… Mothers too had evolved in tune with the changing times.
Had she, in her quest of being the Perfect Woman, whatever that was, undervalued the most important role that she had to play at the current time: the role of a mother - the one role where she was irreplaceable?
Ouch! This “tough love” concept was indeed tough - she had to take a good hard look within before she could be tough on her child.
The steady flow of thoughts continued as she slipped back into her chair. Swami’s smile now seemed to be broader and more encouraging.
Aarti knew what she had to do.
The “Love” in “Tough Love”
Mother and daughter returned home, laughing over a silly joke they had shared on the lift up to the apartment. Aarti was surprised at how much fun she had had. The new mall downtown was different and interesting. The variety of shops and their varied merchandise was spread over three floors of shopping expanse.
Looking at all the teenagers walking in and out of shops dressed in scanty wear, Aarti looked wonderingly at her own daughter, dressed trendily yet demurely. On an impulse she had offered to buy Rhea a top from one of the branded shops. To her surprise, Rhea had refused, saying that it was too expensive.
After a lot of fun at the bowling alley inside the mall, and a nice meal at the food court, Aarti felt a lot more relaxed. She was surprised at the poise and courtesy with which Rhea spoke to all the people she met.
And particularly proud of the time when she had helped an elderly man with his grocery trolley right until the billing counter in the supermarket.
This was a Rhea very different to the one she had met at home! Could it be that she, Aarti, had forgotten to connect in her eagerness to correct?
Just as they entered the house, Aarti’s phone rang. It was one of the company’s prized customers and he had a technical complaint about one of their recent product launches. With an apologetic look at Rhea, Aarti went into the study and pulled out her laptop.
When almost an hour later Aarti finished the call, she put away her laptop and mobile resolutely and hurried into the kitchen. There on the little dining table in the corner, a surprise awaited her - a bowl of steaming hot pasta beckoned invitingly from the table. Rhea was just setting out the dinner plates when Aarti entered.
Aarti couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this her daughter - the daughter who almost religiously refused to enter the kitchen except when she was looking for a snack? Here she had made a simple meal all by herself!
Rhea looked at her with a little mischievous smile. “Hello! Why are you so surprised? I do know how to make a simple meal, you know! But, don’t expect that I will do this too often, ok?” she added hastily. Aarti hid a smile, and mother and daughter settled down to a cosy little meal.
 |
“Seriously, mum,” said Rhea. “Thanks for spending the afternoon with me. I know you are very busy now, and it means a lot that you still took time off for me.”
Looking wonderingly at her daughter, Aarti marvelled at the power of love, a love that Rhea understood when it was given to her as a gift of Time.
Love was not going to the mall, or buying stuff or any of those things that they had endlessly argued about. What Rhea had actually been saying was that she needed some “parent time”, not “quality time” that was a measured time interval between two chores.
And the casual camaraderie and understanding on the mother-daughter outing together was just the right amount of love that she herself needed to recharge her energy: the self-love that she often overlooked in her commitment to fulfil the various roles she had taken upon herself.
Tough Love
Switching off the kitchen lights, Aarti stepped into Rhea’s bedroom for a quick chat before calling it a day. Rhea was propped up against the bed, watching a TV show on her laptop.
Aarti felt her stress rise slowly - how many times had she told Rhea not to watch these TV shows obsessively?
But then should she overlook this, because it could spoil an otherwise perfect day? “Remember, Aarti,” she told herself sternly, “discipline and love go hand in hand.”
She took a deep breath, recalling the lovely things she had observed in her daughter earlier in the day. What was wrong was Rhea’s current action, not Rhea herself.
“I love you, Rhea”, she thought. “And because I do, I have to correct you when you are wrong, just as much as I have to appreciate you for what you do right.”
Walking slowly to Rhea’s bedside, she put a loving hand on her shoulder. “Rhea, my dear, thank you for helping out with the dinner. I have never had such a nice meal in a long time. Come with me to take the dog out for his walk in the compound, please?”
Rhea looked up, instinctively rebellious. Looking at her mother’s loving face, her scowl gave way to a resigned smile. She knew exactly what her mother really wanted. Putting her laptop away, she got down from the bed.
Aarti let out a quick sigh of relief. One step at a time, with love and toughness not just for the child, but for herself too. They had won a few battles together today; there would be many more to come.
Before Aarti retired to bed that night, she spent her customary few quiet minutes in the living room, looking at Swami’s picture, reflecting on the events of the past two days.
 |
Many were the lessons she had learnt:
Tough love is not a one-off assignment but a lifetime course in parenting.
It is a delicate balance of discipline and love - at any point of time one may be more apparent than the other but both have to not just co-exist, but also be acknowledged. After all, didn’t Swami succeed in disciplining His children because they felt His strong love for them?
Discipline is not just for the child but for the parent too, just how love has to be there for the self just as much as for the child.
And, perhaps the most important and difficult: one has to also take a good hard look at one’s own flaws while correcting the child for hers.
Aarti looked up at Swami’s picture and smiled. “Wow, Swami! So many lessons!” she breathed softly. “Am I a difficult child to You as well?”
A page in the book “Sathyam Sivam Sundaram” kept near the window fluttered open in the gentle breeze. The following lines once sung by Swami, as a prologue to His discourse, seemed to leap out:
“I am Nataraja, the Lord of Dance. You are all My pupils. I alone know the agony of teaching you each step of the dance.”
JAI SAI RAM!
Illustrations: Mr Sriram Santhanam
| comments powered by Disqus |
