“The success of Indian children depends on the strength of their mother’s shoes, wooden spatula, wooden stick, and broom.”
How many people agree with me on the above statement?
In the USA, it is called child abuse when you hit your child or say something children don’t like to hear (physical or verbal abuse or emotional abuse). They don’t mind calling the cops on their own parents within two seconds. Some cases are true, and some are painful, while some cases are just nothing. Sometimes it’s hard to decide if it was really abused or not. School teachers will call the cops or CPS (Child protective services) if they see any tiny bruises on the children. The CPS and police will first bring the children to the emergency room for medical clearance and medical exams, and later the judge could call us into the court to testify. All this happens in the American world.
Let’s look at my native country. You won’t find any single child in an overpopulated country that has not gotten spanked by their parents. The Indian teachers don’t call the police or CPS because they also beat the shit out of the students( I don’t know if it happens in the present time). The children don’t take it seriously either. Thank God; otherwise, the jails would be full of the parents. The judges will only be handling the abuse case more than any other criminal case. All ER physicians will be sitting in court testifying instead of taking care of the patients. I live in the USA, so I have lost the right to be an Indian parent. I just cry if my children make any mistakes. I am the child in my home, and my kids are adults, but they have to follow certain rules. I have set firm limits, and they don’t cross them.
However, I did have an Indian mother. My father had spent most of his time abroad, so he did not know about this strange love-hate relationship.
I was a little brat child who loved doing notorious things all day long, something only to give my mother a hard time. It did not matter how good a student I was or how good I was in sports. Mom’s special weapon was always loaded and ready to attack. The Indo-Pak army doesn’t keep their weapons ready to attack each other, but our parents’ weapons are always ready to fire. My mother tried many times, but most of her attacks went in the wrong direction. I was a sports girl, so she never could catch me. I also had many safe houses, such as my uncle’s house, Abu’s army camp, under my Chachu’s cot, or climbing on the tree ( an old neem tree in my yard).
My mother did not have the courage to talk in front of my father’s brothers. However, I knew her weakness, so I did not mind taking advantage of it. Both my uncles had spoiled me. instead of saying anything to me, they yelled at my mother, “don’t touch the girl; otherwise, you will go back to your parent’s home.”
My mother blamed my uncles and my father for spoiling me. They were busy blaming each other while I was already on the other mission. I would have gone to hide in Abu’s barracks if both of my uncles were not home. Seriously, they all used to laugh after hiding me somewhere. They always lied to my mother when mom asked them if they had seen her daughter. Everyone will say, “No, ma’am, we have not seen the kid for days. They were the army officers, and my mother threatened to beat up her child in front of them. Whenever my mother would leave, they told me to come out of my hiding place and “come out, kid, Punjab police are gone.”
Two years ago, a young doc whose parents were from Pak joined our practice. All the nurses started to ask him how he became a doc at such a young age. He gave a very simple and realistic answer,” due to the magic of my mother’s shoe and slap.”
A slap automatically comes directly on the cheek without any word if you get A- or B +. Why not straight A’s? My mom had completed only 5th grade, but she knew the grading system of private school very well. My father completed his higher education outside India, but he never told me what to do or not. I follow my father’s steps not to interfere, but I check my children’s grades and remind them,” Hey, let me know if you need my help.” That is enough for them, and they know their mother has already checked their grade. I might have been sitting in prison now if I had been using the shoes, spatula, broom, or stick.
I have received many degrees, gold medals, silver medals, and distinctive certificates. Yet, I got only One B+ on my 12th-grade exam, and my mother took this pain of B+ to her grave.
I am not sure if Indian mothers still have the same weapons or have changed. Sometimes, I think it was right. What was my present if mom had not kept her weapon ready all the time?