It is quite natural that being a father of two children, I have to maintain my dignity among my colleagues who are very proud in announcing that their children are toppers in examinations and competitions.

Children are children. In spite of so called ‘modern scientific research ‘ regarding child education, to some extent, children should be innocent, I dare say. They shall not be allowed to sneak their nose in every family matters. Family matters shall be looked after by only parents .

Some of my colleagues, want their children to take ‘responsibilities’ of home-keeping . Obviously they are over-enthusiasts. In trying to make their toddlers ‘omniscient’, they are harming the future of their offspring.

Even if my children get less marks in the tests/ examinations I don’t blame them. Instead, I tell them to read more comics. Let them daydream! Let them escape from the fear of ‘what will befall tomorrow’. In private schools it is almost impossible as the head teachers summon the parents in the case the children don’t move on the expected lines. I am proud that my children are studying in government school.

Call me irresponsible father and I don’t mind. My idea behind sending my children to the government school is well working: The head teacher does not summon me when my children’s marks are less in the tests/examinations. And I do enjoy seeing my colleagues’ pale faces when they complain ‘because of my ‘irresponsible’(?) children, I had to stand in front of the head teacher today as if I am an offender ‘.

Then, what I do with the children? Virtually, nothing. Yes, you read correct: nothing. I cut jokes with my children, sing with children and tell stories to them. It is for my joy and not their joy. Call me selfish and I don’t mind.

Don’t think that I don’t get angry with my children at any cost. I am not a saint. I shout at them and even beat them when the occasion demands!

Once, my younger son Dipak(7), made my room messy by throwing the stuffs helter-skelter. I bellowed . He had good beating. He started to cry. I did not try to console him. ‘Let the rascal cry’ I thought in utter anger.

The same day evening I was afflicted by severe headache. I lied on bed and started to press my head. Dipak came and made an enquiry: ‘‘Appa (Father)! What has happened?’. Obviously, he did not expect any reply. He rushed towards his room, took a kerchief, went to kitchen, returned to me with a cup filled with water. He dipped the kerchief into the water and placed it on my forehead.  ‘Appa(=father), how do you feel now?’, he asked me very gently.

i  said‘Oh, it is pleasant’.

After five minutes, he took out the kerchief from my forehead. Once again he dipped that kerchief into water and took out it. Once again he placed it on my forehead.

He  continued the process for one hour.

After one hour, my head ache was totally vanished.

‘Dipak, where did you learn this trick from?’ I asked.

‘From a story. The story is of a small girl. When her mother is afflicted by headache, she dips kerchief in water and places it on forehead of her mother. After one hour , the head ache gets vanished.’

This is my son, who, after having my blame and beating, nurses me, being influenced by a comic.

I don’t think that my esteem has become lower by letting my children to read whatever they want to read.

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