Every morning I see scores of ladies and gentlemen escort their children to bus stands outside their housing complexes, help them board their school bus or van, give them a kiss or simply say ‘bye' and then hurry back home.
I have been watching this daily ritual for quite some time now, wanting to find out where the actors make any departure from what has become a mechanical routine. There is hardly any. Like any other day, the kids would look very fresh in their colourful school uniforms, carrying their school bag on the back and the their water bottle dangling from their wrists.
I found it interesting to have a look at those escorting them — just for the sake of observation, nothing more.
If it is a grandpa he would avoid carrying the tiny tot in his arms which is understandable. After all, not all oldies are endowed with that stamina. But some of them are unreasonable and unkind to their little ones. They would expect the kids with small limbs to compete with their tall frame and long legs!
Most of these dadajis, as grandpas are usually addressed, are not very particular about their vintage looks. Some would appear coming straight out of bed, their hair dishevelled. For them, wishing some of their contemporaries ‘good morning' or briefly exchanging pleasantries in that position is no problem because they might find the latter also dressed the same way. Fathers escorting their children are slightly conscious of their appearance.
They would comb their hair and wearing Bermuda shorts take their wards to the bus. Young fathers would, however, keep fondling and giving dozens of smacks on the child's cheeks till they finally reach the bus stop. Things are a little cumbersome for mothers. To look reasonably presentable even at that early hour, they might change their attire and give the face a bit of ‘temporary' touch up so as not to invite any unfavourable attention or comments from Mrs X, Y and Z, neighbours, who also come to drop their offspring.
Drooping like saplings
Things are just the opposite when children come back home in the afternoon. Fathers, and in many cases, their working mothers, have gone to their workplaces. At that hour, while the children are a tired and weary lot, their mothers or grandpas look fresh. While alighting from the bus, some young ones, who shone brightly in the morning, are now drooping like saplings that have not been watered for two days.
They are hungry and craving for the parental love and the cozy comforts of their home. They want to be there at the earliest. This time, the grandpa feels invigorated and performs the feat of carrying the little one in his arms! So much so that he even buys an ice candy to cool the child off in the hot and humid weather. The boy keeps licking it even as it soils the old man's kurta (long shirt). Yet, grandpa keeps smiling. The little one appears to be feeling guilty. So, he is assured, "Don't worry my child. It will get washed."
This might be a daily routine that has been going on throughout the year. But such scenes and bonds of affection certainly provide an interesting comparative study of human behaviour, emotions and sensitivities between generations.
To me it provided a study in contrast and transported me to my own childhood days. There were no buses or vans to take us to schools. We had to go on foot whatever be the distance. No water bottles. Words like kindergarten or play schools were not known. That part of education was provided by parents and hired teachers who used to come home for a fee.
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
