Neerja remembered the tune of ‘Different Strokes’ – it was the title of an erstwhile TV show. It had become the refrain of her life; yeah, different strokes for different folks. Everyone has their own way of doing things and approaching life. She looked pensive. Anshul had done it again. In the evening she must talk to Satish about it.
Anshul, unaware of his mother’s deepening worry lines, was joyously narrating the day’s events. Neerja was trying to cope with the bombshell he had dropped earlier. He had been waiting for her to pick him up from his coaching class. As he got into the car, excitedly he started, “Maa, if you had not come to pick me up, I wouldn’t have been able to reach home today.”
“Why would I not come to pick you up?”
“Oh, sometimes aren’t you held up at your college and tell me to go home by auto?”
“Yes, I do, but you have money in your wallet, haven’t you? Didn’t Papa give you money when he dropped you in the morning?”
Morning rides were Anshul’s favorite. He had just received a two wheeler – his first two wheeler – and Satish rode pillion to see if Anshu had acquired road confidence yet. Then Satish would bring the Activa back home.
“Hmm. Papa gave me a hundred rupee note.”
“See, you could have come by auto.”
“No, Maa. While I was waiting for you a poor woman came to me. She was carrying a small baby. She told me her baby was sick. She and her baby had not eaten for the last two days. She had no money for medicine.”
“Oh! That’s sad!”
“Yes Maa. I told her to take her child to the doctor and gave her the hundred rupee note. I didn’t have more. Will it be enough?”
Neerja felt like hitting her forehead – these beggars and their sob stories! Any other sixteen year old would have been able to see through it but not her Anshul. There was more to come.
“I gave her water too and told her to give it to her child. It was so hot.”
“Did you give her your bottle as well?” Here goes another thousand, she thought silently. The water bottle he had was an expensive one.
“No, I didn’t. I poured the water into her bowl.”
“Did she touch your bottle?”
“No, I poured it. Now listen, in our Chemistry class…,” he went on chattering.
Neerja knew her son was different. Anshul’s moronic innocence at times exasperated her. Now another worry nagged her. These beggars worked in groups. If this happy beggar woman pointed out Anshul to her folks – Anshul’s time and place of waiting for her was fixed – he could be a target for other beggars.
She couldn’t tell Anshul to mind his own business. He would very logically point out that she had taught him to be kind and helpful. Neerja wanted to give him all the right values but such incidents set her back. She could only helplessly watch him. Anshul had to find his feet on his own. This was the agony of all parents – they wouldn’t want to hover over their children, even though their protective instincts propelled them. But the fear of stunning the child’s decision making powers and assessing others, holds them back.
In the evening Neerja and Satish discussed the incident and remembered many more such incidents when those around Anshul had taken advantage of him to pay their canteen bills or pocketed his expensive items or cheated him otherwise. Anshul put it down to sharing. He was unable to find fault with them. Had they failed to teach him the value of money?
Over the dinner Neerja steered the conversation towards Panchatantra stories she used to tell Anshul when he was small.
“Anshul, remember that story I had told you about a kind Brahmin* who came across a tiger caught in a trap. The sobbing tiger had requested him to open the cage.”
“Yes Maa. The tiger had said he was thirsty and wanted water.”
“What happened when the Brahmin opened the cage?”
“The tiger said he would first eat the Brahmin and then drink water. A jackal saved the Brahmin.”
“How?”
“The Brahmin appealed to a jackal passing by to decide who was wrong. The jackal acted surprised that such a big tiger could be shut in such a small cage. He refused to believe them. The tiger was in a hurry to eat the Brahmin, so to put an end to the debate he went into the cage to prove that he indeed was inside the cage. The jackal bolted the cage and the Brahmin was saved.”
“Then what did the jackal tell the Brahmin?”
“He said you should show mercy, kindness only to those who deserve it.”
“So Anshul, in life you have to be not only kind, like the Brahmin but you have also to be cunningly astute like that jackal – to judge whether the person before you deserves your kindness. Maybe that beggar fooled you. Think over it.” She tactfully then changed the topic, “Have you finished your home work?”
It was way past Anshul’s bed time when he came quietly into Neerja’s bedroom and crept into her bed. She put aside the book she was reading and rumpled his hair, “Yes, sonny.”
“Maa, can a mother lie about her child – that her child is sick? For a mother her child is the most precious gift – you always say that.”
Neerja sighed. Someday he would understand the economic basis of social behaviour. At this juncture she did not want to turn her child into a cynic.
“Maybe. I have kept one note of fifty rupees, two of twenty rupees, two tenners and two fivers in your purse. Now stop worrying and go to sleep. Life teaches us new lessons daily. This was your lesson for today. Scoot, goodnight.”
*Brahmin – Sage
