In the Name of My Father

It is apparently a day that the world celebrates fathers, along with music, and yoga. Friends and acquaintances on social media are putting up posters and photographs celebrating the lovable bond that they share with their fathers. Men and women smiling and posing with their respective dads. There is a deep void that I have when I see these photographs and messages. I have spent very little time with my father. Growing up, there is a big gap in my life, where I did not even know where he was, as a small boy, I was under the impression that he was working abroad. He made an appearance for my sister’s wedding and after a few days again he was gone. When fathers used to accompany their children for events at school and in the locality, there was a bit of pain, which always remained. As I grew up and I understood the complex dynamics of an extended broken family trying to pick up its pieces, I realized that this is how things are meant to be.

Finally in 1998, I had a chance to start life afresh with my father and mother. Moving from a bustling metropolis to a small town in Tamil Nadu brought several challenges. Realizing that here too I will be an outsider after being an ‘outsider’ in Calcutta, I continued to grapple with life. Within a few months I understood why my father had remained away from us. His addiction to alcohol ruined my mother’s life as well as mine. Quite early in life, I realized that I had to support my mother in any way possible to make this chance at a ‘family’ work. When others of my age used to enjoy the evenings after school and holidays, I would sell murukku and thattai (rice-flour based snacks). We got some orders to supply regular meals to a family and this helped us a lot. They were an elderly couple near our rented house and I would supply food in a tiffin carrier to them. There used to be ugly arguments at home and I tried my best to zone out all the ‘noise’ and focus on my studies. I have never been an exceptional student, just above-average. Engineering and medicine were ruled out for two reasons, lack of money and my lacklustre scores in Maths and Science.

Somehow got into college, got a taste of the big city, participated in competitions of oratory, writing, quizzing, and drama won lots of prizes and handed over the cash rewards to Amma. Biggest joy was when I got placed on campus, that one day, when I received the offer-letter was my happiest. As I entered corporate life and salary started coming in regularly, helped realize small dreams of my Amma. Starting with a refrigerator, a washing machine, a microwave oven, small things that made her life easier. As father’s dependence on alcohol increased, I tried admitting him to rehab to help him overcome his addiction, but of no avail, he ran away from there. One fine day, after a long argument, he just walked out of our rented house. It has been more than ten years now. My mother is also dead now. I don’t have any bit of affection or love for my father. Just bitterness and anger. I am alone. Sitting in the comfort of another rented house. As the world celebrates fathers and fatherhood, I wonder where did I go wrong, what was my crime to have not experienced the paternal affection that every child deserves. I do not have answers. There are times when I have nightmares where I see funeral pyres burning and I wonder who is it that is on the final journey? Wherever you are – I hope you have found the happiness that you wanted. Happy Father’s Day to you.

Book Review of ‘The Hauntup’ by Deepti Srivatsan and an Interview with the Author

Dear Readers — Please welcome debutante author Deepti Srivatsan, the author of the psychological thriller “The Hauntup”. Before we go to my review of the book, here’s a brief tete-a-tete where she answers some of my questions.

What prompted you to write ‘The Hauntup’?

Since childhood I have always been weaving stories in my head. Even if I did pen them down, these were never shared with anyone else. A few years back, the concept of ‘food walks’ and ‘heritage walks’ was growing increasingly popular and I found myself wondering how it would be if someone organized a walk around the city’s haunted locations in the dead of the night. This sparked the idea of ‘The Hauntup’ and I decided that this time I shall write a story for everyone.

Did the plot change as you wrote the story or did you have a pre-defined outline?

When I started to write I had no idea where my story was headed. I didn’t even know who the killer was for a long time and I just let the story develop on its own. The sub-plots kept changing multiple times. In hindsight I wish I had been a little more organized.

Any suggestions for first-time authors?

Read extensively and attentively. And write a little everyday. Writing a novel is a slow and frustrating process and there are days you start to question your craft. Have faith in yourself.

Do share the names of some of your favourite books and authors.

Growing up, my favourite authors were Sidney Sheldon, Agatha Christie and Steve Martini. Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’, Yuval Noah Harari’s ‘Sapiens’ and all books by Elif Shafak are among my all time favourites.

*******************************
I received a copy of the book from Deepti in exchange for an honest review. It took some time for the book to reach me because of the pandemic, thankfully, I finally received the courier containing the book. Published by NotionPress, the book has an interesting cover.
TheHauntup
I started reading the book and was hooked to it right from the beginning. The story starts with a young couple having an argument and in the next few pages the woman is dead, pushed to her death from her bungalow overlooking the sea. The story then moves forward by several years and we are introduced to a bunch of youngsters in their twenties who are all living in Chennai and working in diverse professions. They are all connected by a common message on Twitter and they are invited to a “Hauntup.” The story gathers pace as the characters are introduced and they undergo a surreal or eerie experience during the first “hauntup.” We do not know who is organizing the hauntup and all the individuals are shaken after their experience.
As the story unravels, we are introduced to more characters. There is a leading movie star and a director. An assistant director Mitra is part of the group of youngsters invited to the hauntup. There is a young architect who is working for a leading construction firm. We slowly meet these characters and realize that there is a common thread connecting them. A road accident that happened many years ago, a journalist who tried to dig further details who died, a young girl working in a shop who was killed. How are all these incidents tied to our group of thrill-seekers? You will have to read this book to find out the answers.
Deepti does a commendable job in her first book. It is not easy to write a psychological thriller and with multiple characters involved it could be easy to lose focus. Despite several characters in the story, she does full justice to the story, and serves a brilliant tale of crime, revenge, and redemption. I really enjoyed reading the book and lovers of crime/thrillers would surely love to read the book. Do give it a shot and support a new independent author.

Meshu’s Quest for a Bride

The last few years took a severe toll on Meshu’s body and mind. All attempts to find a bride ended in failure. Then Meshu lost his mother and his life changed overnight. Forced into solitude he descended into a state of perpetual fatigue. Now a year after his mother’s demise and after completing the rituals every month culminating the annual rites, he decided to start afresh.

Step -1 – His brother added him to a dating group on Facebook. Half the time he is lost at looking at the posts put up by a few members with unfailing regularity and a legion of their followers commenting on the posts. He has grown old and he is definitely from a different generation, not understanding how likes and comments and heart icons turn into meaningful relationships. But his friend says, “I found my soulmate here, you are not trying hard enough.” Meshu wonders if he will ever garner the courage to even send a friend request to an unknown lady based on what they put up on social media groups. He is too old for this dating game.

Step-2 – This year on his birthday when he visited Marundeeshwarar Temple in memory of his mother, he spotted an event happening in a kalyana mandapam. On enquiry, he found out that it is a meet-up of grooms and brides families organized by a matrimony portal. Promptly, he registers and then starts the waiting game. He receives some profiles and to his bitter dismay finds that all the profiles of the brides are at least 12 to 15 years younger than him. Swallowing a bitter pill and drinking one strong filter coffee from the nearby shop he walks out wondering, what lies next.

Step-3 – The Corona crisis is at its peak and during the midst of this lockdown he receives a fresh set of profiles registered in April. He shortlists relevant profiles by age, gothram, and star and starts making phone-calls.

Conversation – 1

“Hello sir, naan Chennai laerndhu Mahesh pesaraen.”

“Yes, tell me how can I help you?”

“Sir, your daughter Nandhini registerd with ID 5423.”

“What is your age?” “Sir 38.”

“There’s some confusion the admin staff misprinted my daughter’s date of birth – she is just 24 years old. Better luck in your search. Bye”

Conversation – 2

“Hello sir, good evening, Mahesh calling from Chennai”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Sir, you are Miss Charanya’s father registered on matrimony portal with ID -5761”

“Oh, no, not again, there’s some confusion, it is a wrong number. I don’t have any daughter named Charanya. I am sure the real Charanya would be married by now.”

This is how my story goes. Dear readers if you are aware of any relevant bride for me please get in touch with me and share the details. Thank you.

 

In Search of a Barber

My last haircut was sometime in mid-February. From a very young age, or ever since I can remember, I have had an army haircut and once in a month I will visit a barber-shop or saloon and get a haircut. The key problem that I face is that sweat starts accumulating above the ears and it causes a lot of discomfort while sleeping.

Now thanks to the lockdown enforced by the government all saloons have been shut and for more than a fortnight, I have been facing a lot of discomfort. One day, I walked a stretch of about three kilometres on two sides of a main road to check if any saloon was open only to find them all closed.

Finally, yesterday, I found a saloon open and had a haircut and am now relieved. It feels as if a massive burden has been removed.

Fans of Malayalam cinema will love this:

Freedom – A Short Story Set in the Pandemic

Kamaraj Nagar – A locality in Avadi – April 14, 2020

Murugan looked at his wife and two children. It was the Tamil New Year. The corona lockdown had forced him to shut his small barber shop. There had been no income for about a month now. From all his savings, he was down to the last Rs 500 he had. He cursed himself for having hastily installed the air conditioner in his saloon based on the feedback of his customers. The AC had taken out Rs 30,000 and within a month of it being installed the government had enforced its god-forsaken lockdown. Valli his wife had managed to make a simple yet delicious meal. There was payasam and vadai with rice, sambar, and vegetable curry. The two children – twins – Haripriya and Harpit were ten years old. Excellent at studies and extra-curricular activities, their small flat in the housing board colony was adorned with certificates and trophies that the twins had won at school. The situation was problematic for most occupants of the run-down flats in the colony. He could not borrow money from anyone either. The people lending money during this crisis would extract their Shylockian pound of flesh from him. He wondered how he would overcome this crisis.

Gumudipoondi a town adjoining the Andhra border – May 1, 2020

Biswajit was walking along with a group of 15 other construction workers. They were tired of the false promises being made. They had not received wages nor had work resumed. Their contractor had tried his best to support them, but he too was caught in his problems and facing a monetary crisis. Originally from Midnapore in West Bengal, Biswajit had come to Chennai, three years ago. He loved this city and its long beach. He had worked in a small restaurant as a cleaner and then found a better-paying job as a construction-worker.  This city gave him dignity instead of life as a low-caste indentured labourer in his native village. The Communists had destroyed the fabric of his beloved state. Despite changes under Mamata didi’s Trinamool – a life of comfort was still a distant dream. The group had started walking from their tenements near Royapuram two days ago. They did not know how they were going to reach their destination or when they would reach it either. They trudged along because they knew their dream had ended here. They tried to use the side-roads instead of the main highway to avoid the police. En-route some volunteers from NGOs and good-natured folks had provided them with water and food-packets. How long would this journey run? Would they make it in one piece to their native lands?

Kodambakkam – a posh apartment complex – May 10, 2020

Rhea was having a heated exchange with her husband Dev. “What do you mean – kitchen is only for women? You better come here and help me wash the dishes.” Dev chose to ignore her and this only infuriated Rhea further. Something snapped that moment in Rhea’s mind. Five years of a marriage that was filled with arguments and disagreements. They had been neighbours since their childhood and their parents had conducted the marriage wishing the best for both of them. Somehow the joviality of friendship did not translate into a successful marriage and it had been a constant struggle for both of them after the initial honeymoon period ended. As Dev continued to flip the channels on the television, Rhea walked in to the living room and stood between Dev and the TV set and said – “OK, Dev, we need to talk, now!”

Kamaraj Nagar – May 15, 2020

The police-officers had cordoned the flat where Murugan lived with his family. All four members of the family had died. Murugan hung from the ceiling fan. His wife and children lay in the bed with their mouths frothing with a foul-smelling liquid. Murugan had poisoned them and then hung himself. His letter that was kept on the alcove with the photos of several gods was clear. He no longer had any money. He could not open his barber shop, he could not pay rent, and the money that he had borrowed with great difficulty was also over. Neither could he help himself or his family-members. This was the only way out.

Midnapore – May 22, 2020

The Amphan cyclone hit with a ferocious impact destroying everything in its way. Poor Biswajit who had reached home after an NGO had helped arrange transport for them in Andhra Pradesh discovered the wrath of nature a few days after reaching his village. The winds and the rains had lashed and blown away the tin and asbestos sheets that worked as roofs. He was thankful that he was alive. His aged mother and widowed sister were safe. They salvaged some of their belongings and walked to the local government school, where a relief camp had been set up. A promise of a hot meal of khichuri and some vegetables prompted them to walk to the school where some more villagers had assembled. They were down, but they believed they could rebuild their lives.

Kodambakkam – May 23, 2020

“Amma, enough is enough. I have thought through this clearly. I am not going to endure any of Dev’s nonsense. Five years of my life I have given to him, and my role is that of a dignified maidservant. That’s all, and a trophy-wife for parties.  I am seeking a divorce from him. I need to live my own life.”  Rhea’s mother looked at her and nodded her head. “Appa and I are sorry for having foisted this marriage upon you. Let’s plan a new beginning for you.” Mother and daughter hugged each other as tears flowed down their eyes.

E for Ever After

Every love story, every relationship, every marriage, aims for the companionship of two individuals, ever after, till the Grim Reaper separates the individuals. But no love story is perfect and so is no relationship, or marriage. Masks unravel, individuals see new layers of personalities in one’s companion, new facets of their lives are revealed. Anger, ego, misunderstanding, break-up and divorce; this is how life goes.

How does the concept of ‘ever after’ work? I have known of elderly couples who have lived long tumultuous lives together, and when one of them dies, the other follows suit soon. Perhaps that’s true love of not being able to live when one’s soulmate departs.

How do you think love survives? Married readers, those in committed relationships, do you think the concept of ever after works? Is it feasible? When we know that one day or the other we have to bid goodbye forever does placing so much of love and affection on one person make sense? Do share your thoughts.

D for Dhokla

The dhokla is a fascinating culinary invention. Associated with the state of Gujarat, this simple spongy steamed delight is absolutely lip-smacking. An acquired taste, once you fall in love with it, there’s no looking back.

Here’s a recipe by Veena Amma – a popular food blogger and a brilliant cook that shows you how to make dhokla with a microwave. Do follow here website for interesting recipes.

Happy eating 🙂 Surf through YouTube for ample videos to make dhoklas.

C for Christ the Redeemer

I grew up in a deeply orthodox Tamil Brahmin family with deep spiritual connects. Those who read this blog regularly know of my deep connection with Shivan and Kashi as well. An aghori had foretold my birth to my mother in Kashi. Despite being growing up an orthodox household, I grew up with an open mind thanks to the minimal interference guardianship of my uncle, who was insistent that I should find my own path. What this meant was I had access to spiritual texts of different religions and philosophies and there would be long discussions on the different schools of Indian and Western philosophy and man’s purpose in a world created by a supreme power.

Coming to this post, I spend a lot of my time making newspaper jackets for my books. I dust the books, clean the shelves, rearrange the books, and place them in cardboard boxes. There was a news-trigger that the lockdown will extend till April 30th. I felt pained and stressed, that despite all my plans, Amma’s annual rituals may not happen. I was covering books purchased in the Bookchor sale. This was a Horrid Henry title, as I flipped the book, out popped this bookmark.

christ

I felt happy, it was like an assurance that everything will work out fine. I don’t know when the lockdown will end, or whether my mother’s annual rites would go as planned, but in that one moment, I felt a bit of reassurance.

#Life #Amma #Christ #Hope

B for ‘Boi-Mela’ – The Calcutta Book Fair

Over the years, the cities that I have lived include Calcutta, Pune, Thiruvallur, and Chennai. I have spent time in cities like Nagpur, Bengaluru, Trivandrum, Thrissur, and Kochi. In each of these cities, I have bought books. Books have been an integral part of my life. Growing up, my elder maternal uncle ignited the love of reading. He was the one who introduced me to the fascinating world of second-hand books. As a student, I was average in Maths and Science (the subjects that the world cares about) and had a decent score in English. The Boi Mela or the Book Fair in Calcutta is something that every bibliophile should visit at least once in their life time. In my time in Calcutta it used to be held in the Maidan and it was good fun to visit the fair, buy snacks like jhaal-murri, and veg rolls and stroll through the numerous stalls vying with each other to attract readers. At some point it moved to the Science City premises on the outskirts of the city. A couple of years ago, I was in Calcutta, and this was a new venue again in other part of the city. Well-thought out, on a grand international scale, with special buses running and literary events happening it was a great feeling to revisit memories from childhood.

Chennai has its book fair and there are places like Delhi, Hyderabad, Bengaluru, and Trivandrum organizing fests and book fairs, but nothing can beat the charm of the Boi Mela. Hopefully, life will give me another chance to revisit memories of childhood. Have you been to the Boi-Mela? What are your memories?

April – Uncertain Times

Last April – I commenced yet another A to Z Blogging Challenge. Amma fell down on the first Saturday, life went haywire – in a month she was no more. I will never know, how the doctors failed to diagnose something really critical with her kidneys, as I took her for a routine check up just three days before she went into a deep diabetic stupor. I lost her on May 6th forever. Her ashes immersed in the oceans. Have been dutifully performing the monthly rituals. March month we could not do the same because of Corona lockdown measures. Now as the lockdown continues and the future remains uncertain with most people agreeing that this lockdown will continue for some more days to come, the Varshabdeegham ceremonies – the annual rites are likely to get postponed. The vadhyar has recommended a wait and watch measure. No relatives are going to come with all these lockdown measures in place. If the vadhyar does manage to make it and we are able to complete the rituals peacefully, it will be a great burden off my chest.

I timed my break from regular work at the most catastrophic of times. My plan was to visit some pilgrimage centers after Amma’s annual rites and then return to active work sometime in May. Now with all recruitment frozen and my applications stuck everywhere, no travel possible, all I do is sit and stare at Amma’s portrait. Some small editing tasks come and I try my best to complete them to the best of my abilities. I am looking for work. I have written to one of my earlier employers as well. The lockdown puts everything on hold and we wait for the government to announce next steps. I was hoping once Amma’s rituals are done, I would be able to return to Thiruvallur. I would save 8,000 on rent. Now with no clarity – that’s also put on hold.

The unpredictable nature of things, the uncertainty, and the fear of failure on every side of things makes one lose sleep. On top of it am spitting blood and this is something that’s happening from last December and despite undergoing a CT-scan and an endoscopy nothing concrete has been diagnosed by the doctors. As I remain without a plan, without any future, I just stick with some memories of the past. When Amma would make pickles and vadams. I will no longer be able to relish the flavours of the dishes that she would make. All I have are some memories. How long I will live with these memories? I don’t know. Is my role here over? I don’t have answers for that either. But I know that I can’t leave before I offer my prayers at Kashi. So till we meet again, let’s hope for the best. Let’s stay positive. #OmShanti #OmNamahShivaya.

Of Fathers: Absent & Present and the Rage of Distraught Boys who Grow into No-Nonsense Men

This self-imposed sabbatical and vacation has freed up a lot of time. The Corona scare is keeping us locked inside and travel outside is restricted to buying provisions, essentials, and medicines if needed. On top of this the main road in the vicinity is under construction with a fresh layer of concrete being applied to the rundown road. The dust and grime do not make it pleasant to travel outside. The weather is still somewhat bearable and the intense heat spell is yet to start. My nephew is a huge wrestling fan and an automobile enthusiast. So he tunes into wrestling programs and browses automobile reviews on the large screen TV. This Fire Stick is a remarkable invention and literally brings the world to your finger-tips and casts it on the big screen. Even with about 5 to 10 MBPS speed the device and the TV work fine here. So in the afternoons after lunch, my nephew streams content on his phone or laptop or watches some Japanese animated series which he loves – Dragonball – I believe. This is the time when I watch movies on Prime or Netflix or Zee5.

A couple of days ago I watched two movies back to back. Vaanam Kotattum and Ayappanum Koshiyum. Please understand this is not a review. This is just a post on how the absence of a father/father-figure or the presence of an extremely opinionated and angry father/father-figure can impact the psyche of a young boy. As frequent readers of my blog and my few friends know, it took me a long time to understand my father and spend ample time with him and that too ended in an extremely bitter separation. In a country like India, for a woman to raise her children in the absence of her husband is a big challenge. Prying neighbours, society, so-called friends are more often than not a terrible pain in the rear.

In Vaanam Kotattum, Sarath Kumar is jailed for hacking two men to death. Those men had attacked his elder brother. The elder brother survives, the two men that SK hacks die. Radhika shifts to Chennai from Theni and struggles to rear her young boy and girl. The boy inherits his father’s anger and violence and is also street smart. As a song plays with the mandatory child to adult progression happens on screen; there’s one sequence that’s striking. The young boy, now a teen in high school, threatens to immolate himself if his mother does not give Rs 50. His mother gives in – does it set a tone for us to understand that he will go to any length to attain what he wants?  There are multiple scenarios wherein we are shown a glimpse of the character’s propensity for violence. When a banana trader refuses to make a full settlement and cheats his uncle, Selva follows the trader, punches his nose and gets the money due to his uncle. This incident later forms the basis for his business idea of starting a banana trading shop in Koyambedu fruits and vegetables market. An earlier incident when he works as a cab-driver and saves Madonna Sebastian and her lover from drowning show his softer side. He refuses to accept any money for saving their lives from Madonna’s father. Later as he becomes a known banana trader he stands guarantee in the bank for a Rs 2 crores loan as Madonna’s father goes into hiding to evade loan sharks. Once Sarath Kumar is released from jail and he joins the family several changes occur. He is instrumental in securing a load of bananas from Bengaluru at short notice when the original supplier backtracks. The rain – a recurring motif pours as Selva and his sister drive around the city looking for their father. The movie quickens pace in the last quarter as one of the sons of the slain men aim to strike back and avenge the death of his father and uncle by killing SK. Nandha plays a double role here. Yet again the absence of a father turns one kid into a meek and submissive man while the other kid turns into a psychologically disturbed adult who craves vengeance all through his life. The movie works well despite Mani Ratnam’s contributions to the story the debutante director manages to weave a convincing tale and show his directorial caliber.

The second movie was Ayappanum Koshiyum. Prithviraj has grown in stature since the early days of Nandanam. We saw what he was capable of in Padmakumar’s Vargam. Mumbai Police was an incredible turning point and he has not looked back. Venturing into production and focusing on strong stories and working across genres he commands respect as well as a strong BO opening.  Biju Menon – what do I write about him. Years ago in a television serial, I recollect that played on DD Malayalam, he played Chandu a character involved in the theft of an idol from a temple. If anyone recollects the name of the serial do mention it in the comments. Biju Menon has always been a dependable actor, no ego or frills and fancies, be it action, comedy, or drama, he will go about his task with ease. Ordinary revived his and Kunchako Boban’s careers.

In AK – Prithvi is Koshiy – a retired havildar with a strong political connection through his father and heir to a fortune of sorts. We have Ranjith playing Koshiy’s father – in snatches we learn Koshiy flunked the pre-degree exam and joined the army to avoid shame and ridicule. All through his childhood his father has pestered him questioning his abilities. Koshiy definitely has an alcohol problem. He is married and has two little daughters. Are they happily married? We assume things are OK like any family. His mother is bed-ridden. Ranjith was a political influencer in the past, now he is past his glory days. Koshiy is arrested for possession of alcohol in a protected area in Attapadi by Ayappan the police officer. Ayappan is a police officer who follows the law book and portrayed as a man with a golden heart. As the movie progresses we learn many interesting facts. He marries an Adivasi woman who is accused of being a Maoist sympathizer and gives her a stable life and is blessed with a young child. The movie is a clash of fragile masculine egos that sees how low will one person go to provoke another person and fight it out rather than having a heart-to-heart discussion. Koshi shoots a video of Ayappan opening a sealed bottle of alcohol which he serves to him based on repeated requests. The poor constable girl Jessie also becomes an unintended victim as the video is shared on TV channels and Ayappan loses his job. After this it is a game of one up-man ship as both the leads seek to destroy the lives of each other.

We learn another interesting facet about Ayappan’s life that is tied back to the opening sequence where a young man in traditional dance attire kills another individual. Ayappan an orphan had come from Tamil Nadu as an assassin for hire. He is saved by a local teacher who helps reform the young man and helps him join the police force. The uniform imparts dignity to his life and Ayappan becomes an honest cop and man. This is how the presence of a father-figure helps young men find their own true purpose in life.

Koshiy’s father arranges goons to bash up Ayappan and Koshiy is not aware of this. Koshiy also tries to resolve the issues but in the interim Ayappan visits Koshiy’s house and Koshiy’s father overreacts as does Koshiy’s wife who faints. The story builds up to a pulsating adrenaline-driven no-holds-barred fight. The two men bash each other up and are eventually separated by the cops in plain clothes. There’s a sequence where finally Koshiy challenges his father and confronts him with a heart to heart talk. Finally Koshiy’s father is sentenced to prison for planning to murder Ayappan. How things resolve? Who wins the fight between Mr. A and Mr. K.? You have to watch the movie to find the answers.

The whole purpose of this long blog post was the importance of an emotional chord and support that is needed for young children to grow up into responsible and loving adults. Are you a parent? How much time do you spend with your young ones? Do you treat your spouse with respect and dignity? How many people are leading a life of discord disguised as a life of convenience for the sake of the children, society, and status facades? Children learn by observing what their immediate family members do and say. No family or relationship is perfect. We do not live in Utopia. But it is important for parents to realize how they impact the emotional and psychological growth of their children by their words and deeds. Stop thrusting your unfulfilled dreams on your children. Spread love not hate.

Thank you for reading!

Cheers,

M