When we were growing up, our parents would read to us every evening. Sometimes we would enact parts of a story, or play a character reading their respective lines, or one of us would be the assigned storyteller for the day. It was a wonderful experience growing up in such an environment.
A teacher by profession my mom would repeatedly read one particular story to us. No skits, no characterisation nor any disturbances. We were needed to just sit through the story recital and then answer a few questions. The story went something like...
One day a father took his three children to a park.
At the ticket counter, he requested for the entry passes, "Two adults and one child, please."
The cashier turned to him and asked how old the children were. The father replied, "The Engineer is Five, the Doctor is Four and the Musician is 18 months."
The cashier handed the father the tickets and said, "Five years and above is adult pass while below 2 years go free. You could have easily saved some money here. Who knew the child is five, you could have said four and I or anyone else wouldn't have known."
The father turned around and said, "Yes, you wouldn't have known. But the Engineer and the Doctor know and they would also realise that their father lied and cheated." He continued, "I don't want to be that father."
And then we would argue for hours after each question mom asked, giving our point of view and insisting it to be the right thing. We insisted it is okay to lie sometimes, isn't it? Especially if it doesn't harm anyone. And Mom always said "NO! One must always be truthful because you don't lie to another person, you lie to yourself."
Over the years, as a child, I have had my small lie secrets, which really didn't harm anyone but every time I did so I always thought about Mom and this story. From small things like ensuring we take the correct tickets while travelling, paying the right amount to the pheriwalas for bargain-able goods, refusing private coaching offers as it would hamper her school commitments, treating the house-help with respect, she set an example for us every walking time of the day.
When after university I started working with a multinational, dad's accountant was helping me structure my salary break-up. He tried hard to convince me to apply for HRA benefits when filling out the papers so that I could decrease the tax burden and earn more income per month. He assured me of getting all the necessary papers that were needed as proofs for the taxation purpose. After mulling over the idea for a very few precious seconds I refused point blank. The accountant thought I was crazy as it amounted to a good chunk of money.
I looked at my mom who was reading the newspaper and said, "I don't want to sell my soul for some money. No one will ever know, but I will have cheated and lied to myself." I could see my mom, my teacher's soul rise with pride and her eyes shine with love.
Over the years, as a child, I have had my small lie secrets, which really didn't harm anyone but every time I did so I always thought about Mom and this story. From small things like ensuring we take the correct tickets while travelling, paying the right amount to the pheriwalas for bargain-able goods, refusing private coaching offers as it would hamper her school commitments, treating the house-help with respect, she set an example for us every walking time of the day.
When after university I started working with a multinational, dad's accountant was helping me structure my salary break-up. He tried hard to convince me to apply for HRA benefits when filling out the papers so that I could decrease the tax burden and earn more income per month. He assured me of getting all the necessary papers that were needed as proofs for the taxation purpose. After mulling over the idea for a very few precious seconds I refused point blank. The accountant thought I was crazy as it amounted to a good chunk of money.
I looked at my mom who was reading the newspaper and said, "I don't want to sell my soul for some money. No one will ever know, but I will have cheated and lied to myself." I could see my mom, my teacher's soul rise with pride and her eyes shine with love.
The other day at the cinema, my little one said, "Mom, you need to get my ticket as well. I'm three now. "That's when my belief in how my parents moulded our lives with their actions has been reinforced and I know for sure that my daughter has been listening to the same story from her grandmother.
After all Kitna Chain Hota Hai Sachchai Mein!
~ Heena
