Kollengode S Venkataraman, Written in 1996
Things we do not allow a seven-year-old to do on legal, moral, or ethical grounds, or out of simple old-fashioned common sense: Driving cars or motorcycles, drinking alcoholic beverages, handling power tools, smoking cigarettes, staying home by themselves, taking free-fall rides in amusement parks, handling open flames or corrosive chemicals, and using handguns.
And yet, adults-including the parents, teachers, friends, and those in the media—not only encouraged, but also egged on the seven-year-old Jessica Dubroff to fly to her death last April in a plane crash on her maiden cross-continental flight in a Cessna. One can understand, even if one does not agree with, the motives behind the enterprise that led to this entirely avoidable accident. The allure of publicity in prime-time TV, opportunity for commercial endorsements and the accompanying megabucks, are irresistible in a society in which fortune and fame are the only measures for success. We wrap our vanity & greed in lofty expressions such as freedom, courage, choices, and options to make them more palatable.
As recent immigrants to this nation, we seem to have acquired a mutated strain of this attitude, which in some ways is even worse. For example, it is not enough if our children get the best education in the natural course of their maturing into adults. We want them to get their degrees at ever-decreasing younger ages. We want them to become MDs and PhDs in their late teens. Early teens is even better.
If this happens naturally, as it does sometimes, or even with some coaxing, let all of us rejoice in it. However, to accomplish this, parents increasingly seem to drive their children hard, drive them nuts, and rob them of their childhood. The subliminal message to our children in this pursuit is: You may be far above average in your class, but you are still substandard because you are, after all, inside the bell curve.
But no matter how smart we are, other personality traits having nothing to do with our Is are necessary for becoming successful and productive citizens in our vocation, whatever it be.
I have heard (“overheard” is more appropriate) people saying,
“We had her arangetram when she was barely ten. She excellently brought out the shrngara rasam (erotic passion) in rendering Jayadeva’s Ashtapadi.” Isn’t there something intrinsically distasteful in ten-year-old pre-puberty girls bringing out the passions of adults in their abhinayam?
One of the descriptive names for son in Sanskrit is Atmaja, which literally means “born out of oneself.” Parents, probably seeing themselves in their children, stoke their own adult vanity in imagining that they have begotten child prodigies.
Does one have to show in one’s childhood potentials of greater accomplishments to come later in life? And do such early promises guarantee greater accomplishments later in life? The answer to both questions is, “Probably no.” For, history is full of personalities who bloomed naturally at the appropriate age, sometimes, even very late.
Also, countless people who showed great promise early lost their luster later, only to join the rest of us in their adult life. This is simply because several factors outside our genetic makeup mold our personality. And don’t forget a) the social, technological, and political environment determine what opportunities we get, and b) the events in our personal life that influence how we unfold as adults. Recognizing this might be helpful to get a sense of proportion and balance in life.
Another sore point: Some of our very middle-aged women -— and down-sized men too —because of unfortunate circumstances, are left in the lurch in awkward stages in their lives. Against tremendous odds, some of these courageous men and women go back to school and acquire marketable skills. They start afresh, becoming productive, tax-paying members of society, full of confidence and verve. These people’s tales of human endeavor are as worthy of our recognition as the brilliance of our kids who are born naturally smart.
Forget about inviting these middle-aged men and women as keynote speakers to address our graduating high-school students in recognition of their overcoming great odds in life. We should be happy if their profiles in courage get mentioned to our children during dinner-time conversation. By the way, in these days of workaholic lifestyle, long commute, and TV addiction, how many of us eat at least one meal a day with our spouse, children, and parents to have dinner conversations in the first place?
Siddhirbhavati karmaja (Fruition is born out of work) may be excellent for a lofty, pithy motto on the insignias of institutions. Such profound expressions, unfortunately, do not satisfy our vanity and conceit. Our behavior appears closer to Siddhirbhavati (mama) garbhaja! (Fruition is born out of [my/ womb). END