If I were to be a parent
Or guardian, someday
I would say a lot to that child of mine.
I would go through my journals and see what went down well at which time
I would see, through the thick immaturity of a childhood glaze,
When I adored my parents and when I didn’t
What I liked and what I despised,
When I was open and when the door shut.
I would figure out which would be the places and phases
where anything could creep up the empty void
And into my child’s life.
But then, all these and more practicalities
Are known by all, taken care of by media and the net
And a billion other sources
What then could I tell my child?
After all no life is like the next
So my journals might give me but a small tiny clue
This infants life would be his, or hers, and his or hers alone.
I need nothing from it, ask nothing but that
It lives life its way,
Oh yes, and that I get to be a part of its world-
Only so I get to see
If it has a happy and peaceful disposition
Or if not, see it get to that point of understanding
Where this calm disposition be achieved
For then only good things follow
And these good things be its greatest guide.
I could only wish that this infant..
Smiled and laughed and cried, this infant be passionate.
Loved the world and life for the thudding breath and energy.
Understand the simplicities as much as the complexities, if not more.
Have a good calm mind,
And an ingenious head,
All but to carry a love filled heart
In all worlds good and bad.
But, what would I say?
Which subtle and shaping hints would I drop by? ..
Imagine.. Imagine and dream and wish.
Let the mind gallop free, everyday, child.
Life’s purpose (..if I understood a fraction of it by then)
How to live..at peace.. And why.
Even these few thoughts be kept at bay
For didn’t I love getting to these very thoughts
The exact way, by myself?
For these revelations and discoveries
Were unearthed when I needed them the most,
In my own destined way.
Adhithi Kanthan, “Posterity” , 24th July 2014.