Once upon a time… children were taught amazing things as simple as cursive writing, how to maintain a proper posture & distance while reading a book, how to make the most of weekend without having to spend a whole lot of money 🙂 They were taught how to express and be!!!

I remember vividly to wait upon the postman religiously to deliver letters from far and wide so that once my father has opened and read them I could get away with the beautiful and intriguing stamps from various parts of the world that I wished to see some day down the road 🙂 I also remember the dingy little down trodden store in my back home native town where I used to frequent with my small little change in order to barter for coins from around the globe… coins that meant another exuberant dimension to my world, or may be some more. Never in my vaguest mind I questioned the intentions of the sole owner/operator of the mystical one of a kind store for I knew through & through that no matter how far I was from home I was safe…

It was a part of a normal lifestyle to leave the children playing in the neighbourhood while a mom or dad would take off to run a sudden errand. I can not count on my finger tips how many times I have relished a meal in a neighbourhood home uninvited, for I knew that I did not need an invitation from anyone, I was just entitled to a meal because I was just like the children who belonged to that house 🙂 No matter how much financially, religiously or fundamentally diverse a neighbourhood, more important and memorable was the fact how everyone joined in at weddings or other events to eat and dance the occasion out!

During the most troubled wave of extremism in Punjab when the daily curfew orders were in effect I remember our new neighbour Mr. Subramanyam somehow managed to join us at the funeral grounds to say good bye to my father… Mr. Subramanyam hardly knew him 🙂

In this brave new world where our children belong to, I am not sure about anyone else out there but my child can not relate to regular hand written mail, she does relate to the excitement of collecting coins or stamps, special rocks, dry leaves and other elements that money CAN NOT buy. Mail to her is only some official letter or a reminder of a due bill that her mother may have missed to pay on-line 🙂 She does not know who lives in the third house down… and I do not want her to know because we want to mind our own business and if don’t then we are in trouble 🙂 🙂 🙂 Everyday when I leave for work this child of mine is reminded of the survival kit that we put together several years ago and we keep on updating it. Along with some mandatory items needed in crisis, this kit comprises of our memorable pictures together, my hand written note to her, some personal memorabilia including a necktie that she gave me three years ago on Fathers Day, that reads, “Happy Fathers Day Mom”! God forbidden if something goes wrong…

My child belongs to universe where “Breaking News” only means a bad news! Killing rampages, mass beheadings, honour killings, coups are everyday words of her ever growing vocabulary. She may not know as much about cultural beauties and graces of other nations… however she knows for sure that within and beyond barbed wire borders of every country innocence is suffering at the merciless hands of fanaticism. She knows for fact that radicalism is a motive generated fire! She knows that the degraded and sorry state of morality and decayed sense of patriotism is the baseline of any political agendas in today’s world!

Wow!!! Brave New World it is indeed! Parenting has come a long way… Our forefather knew nothing!!!