A father's words

I am a regular reader of Amitabh Bachchan's blog. Yes, the actor has a blog (much, much, much more on that later). In the blog he is quite open about events in his past (not ALL events, but many) and what shaped him to be the man he is today. On Day 49 (he blogs daily) he had a great nugget to share about a particular interaction he had with his father Harivansh Rai Bachchan, the famous poet. I am providing an excerpt of the incident below. At the end of the interaction is a great poem, the perfect response from a father to his frustrated son.

The avenues and opportunities open to the youth today in an economically liberated India was absent in the late 50’s and early 60’s.

After graduation what ? Where to find a job ? What job ? How ? When ?

And the idealism and debate and the coffee house banter soon converts itself to anger.

The anger of not knowing what to do with ourselves.

You look for answers. You turn to those that may have them. You become followers of others’ wisdom; or seeming wisdom. You become vulnerable and porous. And on one ‘enlightened’ moment you get the answer from a fellow sufferer.

‘Why were we brought into this world ?’, a voice arose, ‘to suffer ?’

That’s it !

That’s the fault. We should never have been brought into this world.

Judgement passed.

Angered, frustrated, strengthened and armed with unreasonable thought, I walked into my father’s study one evening and for the first time in my life, with choked emotion, raised my voice at him and screamed -

“Why did you give birth to me ?” “Aapne hamme paida kyun kiya ?”

My father, immersed as he always was in his writing, looked up at me with some initial surprise and then settled down to a more understanding posture and remained so for almost eternity.

No one spoke. Not him. Not me. Not a sound.

Just the measured clicking of the time piece on his desk – and my un-measured breathing !

When nothing came across from parent quarter, I turned and left.

It was an uncomfortable night for me.

The next morning my father walked into my room, woke me up and handed me a sheet of paper and left. I opened it. It was a poem he had written overnight – titled - ‘Nayi Leek’ - the new generation - the new beginning -
Pulled and torn by the strains of life and living
My sons ask me
“Why did you give birth to us ?”
And I do not possess an answer to this
That even my father did not ask me before giving birth to me,
Nor my father asked his father before producing him
Nor my grandfather did ask his father before bringing him.

The trials and tribulations of life and living
Were there before
And are there now too, perhaps more
And shall be there tomorrow, even greater.
Why don’t you make a new beginning, a new thinking,
Ask your sons before giving birth to them !