Coming straight to the point

A few days ago I was talking to my nine-year-old daughter, discussing some topic, and the conversation continued for quite a long time, both of us trying to convince the other with our logical arguments. At one stage she said: "Papa, don't camouflage things. Come straight to the point."

I was amazed at her capability of discussion, thinking about the days when I was her age. During those days children's talks with their parents, especially fathers, were generally limited to "yes", "no" and "okay". I tried to imagine what parent-child relations were like when my father was a nine-year-old boy, and I remembered a story about my grandmother that my mother used to tell us.

My grandmother was a strict disciplinarian, and she was a strong and daring woman. She was completely different from the people you find these days who are scared of cockroaches and lizards.

One day when almost all the members of her family were sitting in the courtyard, talking, laughing and enjoying the evening tea, a mouse crawled into my grandmother's salwar (loose trousers). Instead of jumping in panic, she caught the mouse from outside her salwar and crushed it with one hand. Her clothes were full of blood after the murder of the mouse.

She was a terror to children in the area as she had a unique way of punishing the naughty ones. When she found a mischief-maker she would hold that child by his leg and hang him in the well until he admitted his mistake and promised not to do it again in future.

Once I asked my father whether he was ever punished like that. He said he was lucky not to experience that but his younger brother, who was extremely naughty, had to face it once. I asked, "What was his mistake?" My father said, "He was playing with the walking stick of our grandfather."

"What's wrong with that," I asked. "Logically there was nothing wrong with it, but sometimes there is no particular reason for someone to get angry. Probably it rouses some people into productivity and creativity. But, anger is a momentary madness, and if you don't control it, it will control you," my father said.

"My mother told him two-three times to keep the stick in its place, but he would not listen. This made her very angry," my father said, adding that "as she was scolding him his tutor came home. Being a naughty boy he never concentrated on his studies. So, tuitions were arranged only for him."

My uncle, the naughty boy, was not in a mood to study. So, he made up a story and told the tutor, "Sir, you go from here as soon as possible because my father has gone mad, and he is looking for you with a stick in his hand."

The teacher was frightened and left immediately. Soon after he had left, my grandfather returned from the fields, and enquired about the tutor. The naughty boy replied, "He came here a little while ago but did not teach me today. He saw this walking stick and told me to give it to him. When I said I can't do it without asking my father, he became angry and left."

My grandfather took the stick and quickly went out of the house to give the stick to the teacher. Walking fast, almost running, he saw the teacher who had not gone very far yet. The teacher was looking back again and again to see whether he was being followed, and when he saw my grandfather running towards him with the stick in his hand, he also started running. No matter how fast my grandfather ran, he could not catch the teacher.

My grandfather returned home tired after the futile chase. Meanwhile, the other children leaked the real story. It was now my grandmother's turn to punish the guilty the way she probably used to get lots of pleasure — by hanging the boy upside down in the well. For some people imposing a penalty for unfair behaviour unleashes feelings of pleasure in their brain.