Today while technology has shrunk our planet and earthlings are a touch (screen) away from each other, sadly it is this very same technology that has built invisible, yet almost in-divisible walls, within the family. TV, mail, Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp, Playstation – the parents and the kids are so busy  reaching out to  people beyond borders that they neither have the time nor the inclination to  connect  within their homes.

The lovely phrase family time which meant dinners, picnics, games (real not virtual)  has  been replaced by individual obsessions driven by technology.

Please I am not against social media or the other myriad uses of the internet. My only point is nothing should intrude into family time and the parent-child communication should be seen as a  sacrosanct activity.

By communication I don’t mean just any kind of interaction but effective communication which would enhance the coefficient of trust between the parent and child, create mutual respect and ultimately lead to a happy family.

Rather than defining effective communication, let me exemplify what effective communication is not.

Effective communication is not patronizing, talking down or being sarcastic.

Once I overheard my colleague Jugal telling his 12 year old  son, “When I was your age I used to walk one mile  to my school in the heat and dust, in the rain and cold and yet get the first rank every time. And look at you.  You go in a chauffeur driven A/c car and yet you don’t figure even in the top ten!”

My former boss  Mr. Rath was often asked why he was investing  so much money in real estate.

“My daughter, Anushka  is no great beauty. If I want to get a good groom for her  I’ll  need to offer a decent dowry. I am merely working towards that,” he would snigger.

Our neighbour Sushma often tells her daughter, “I left a very nice job, so that I could give you all the attention you needed. I thought my sacrifice would pay off and get you into a top medical college. But my entire effort has gone a waste. You didn’t even get admission into a b-grade institute.”

You  can well imagine what kind of damage such insensitive remarks would have caused the youngsters.

You will notice in none of these remarks there is any sense of   concern or respect for the child.

Respect? Do I see raised eyebrows! By respect I don’t mean you have to genuflect before your kid. I only mean that you don’t have to treat your child as a pedigree animal, someone you pet whenever you have the time, indulge in a bit of horseplay, pay through your nose for training/teaching, ask to perform tricks before an audience (“Beta recite the poem on your mother, which won you the first prize, before Chadda aunty”)  and wear its achievements like a badge.

By respect I mean treat your child like an individual and empathise with her. However small she may be she has a right to express her opinion and reach out to you. And it is your duty to respond with love and concern not sarcasm and derision.

I remember, one day, when my daughter Ankita was barely a year   old I had come home from office feeling really tired.

“Why don’t you take her for a drive,” Madhavi , who was holding Ankita,   said.

“No question at all. I am dead beat,” I replied rather tersely.

Ankita just burst out crying, giving me a look which I shall never forget. She must have understood from my tone and expression, my curt refusal.  I immediately picked up my princess in my arms, gave her a tight hug and rushed to heed her command. Since then, as long as the kids were young, I was very careful about what I said and the way I said it. For I had realized children can read between the lines and beyond the words.

Respect also means   not trashing your child’s little proposals, suggestions and her tiny dreams.

When I was barely 7 I had written a poem. It was a pathetic piece of verse. I very hesitatingly showed it to my father. Most dads would have probably said why are you wasting your time in scribbling words, concentrate on maths in which you got only 89. Instead, he picked me up and hugging me said, “It is wonderful!”

He got the poem typed and  framed and hung it in his office room. Today if I am a writer it is because of that beautiful, heartwarming and Adrenalin pumping response I got from my father.

                                                                                    RAMENDRA KUMAR