I wouldn’t go as far as bragging that I am raising a winner—I mean,
everyone likes to win; and it feels great when your offspring has a natural
winning streak that places her somewhere at the top of her class (and consequently,
her peers). But I am going to be honest; I am not doing anything out of the way
to make her feel like she was born to win, or that this is her only destiny, or
that she was going to be judged by the medals on her chest. I have always
validated her willingness to work hard, be in academics or extracurricular
activities, and not her triumphs. So whether it’s full marks in Math, or a
first prize in singing, what she has been told is that she worked hard, gave
her best shot; and the victory is just a subsequent blessing, and not a
validation of ‘her brilliance’.
However, success does go to one’s head. Even when the victor involved is
a 6 year old. Initially I panicked. Where was humility? What had I done wrong? Was
I too extravagant with my praise? Did I play down or over play the whole ‘hard
work is the key to success’ mantra? Is the trophy display a bad idea? Or did the
child think that working hard means victory is guaranteed? Because if that’s what
she was thinking, she was going to have to meet life.
It started with me having to tell her that the only thing we had to do
was give our best. And the rest was not in our hands.
Karmanye Vadhikaraste, Ma phaleshou kada chana
You have the right to perform your actions, but you
are not entitled to the fruits of the actions.
It took a while for this “gyaan” to be accepted; but it eventually was,
and boy, am I glad! From “Oh! I always win prizes!” to “It’s okay if I don’t get
any prize,” it was a journey that took a few months of work. Not that the work
is done as yet—it is work in progress, after all.
Telling a child that it’s okay if she doesn’t shine like a beacon all
the time is actually like walking a tightrope. You have to do this without
hurting the child’s self-confidence or pushing her into a thought space that
her victories don’t mean anything to the people she cares for.
I don’t know if I have done this tightrope walking the right way; but
thankfully, the child has learnt to shrug her little shoulders and say, “Oh that’s
okay!” when a coveted prize has slipped her hands. She has come to accept that
whether it’s dealing with the tough akshar mala in Hindi or mastering
the complicated dance steps I teach her for a competition, it’s not going to be
easy, and she may not get it right all the time. She has learnt that the key lies
in taking up the challenge and performing to the best of her abilities. And honestly,
the occasional “I can’t do this” actually feels like the right way to do this.
She may not always be a winner, but then, no one ever said that’s a bad
thing. I ain’t trying to raise an “all-time winner” now, am I?
