Save tomorrow’s children today

There was a strong reaction to the saddening Sean Luke episode. Understandably so; the child reaches beyond all barriers to the most unmoving hearts. The Mahabharata indicates this in the kathaa style of the ancient texts.

Yudhisthira, the eldest of the five Pandava brothers, waited anxiously for the four brothers to return; they had gone one after the other to bring water to quench their thirst, when those who went before failed to return.

He arrived at an enchanting lake with pristine water. Unlike the others, Yudhisthira did not give in to the need to quench his thirst. First, he searched for his brothers.

Then he espied them, all unconscious, on the ground.

He heard a Yaksha’s voice, “Your brothers have all fallen unconscious because they just did not obey the first rule; to ask permission before drinking the water.” Yudhisthira pleaded with the Yaksha to forgive them and let them regain consciousness.

The Yaksha agreed that if he could answer ten questions, he would resuscitate them.

The questions are all interesting revelations of the human conditions and fundamental issues to secure a healthy society. Of the ten questions, one was; “What is that no human can bear?” Yudhisthira, could answer immediately, “Balakanaam rundanah—the cry of a child.” The cry of a child is often irritating, yet, in the soul of it, a child’s crying is unbearable, maddening, because the human soul cannot bear it; there is a deep concern for the child, its helplessness, its vulnerability.

I have seen big people break down crying, going almost mad, when they did not know how to stop a child from crying. Yes! Every person feels this and not only for a little child, but all baby things, birds, dogs, cats, even snakes.

And when a human society becomes inured to the cry of a child, then it is on the verge of collapse.

Maria Montessori suggests, “No social problem is as universal as the oppression of the child.” That Sean Luke’s case touched the nation’s soul is a sign that our humanity has not collapsed—it’s shaky, perhaps, but it is there. There is hope.

But can we make the child the priority means for securing tomorrow? Do we have the imagination and do we have the will?

There is no doubt that the child is in danger. But the real danger is if we do not recognise it. Dharma has recognised that the child is central to securing a healthy society. That is why Phagwa comes once a year to alert the society to evaluate the health of the child. (Hiranyakashipu is a symbol of the oppression of childhood through state, family and parents.)

The irony, however, is that all these concerns are drowned in the abir.

The active concerns of a society can be measured by how it manages its space for the child in adult play-time, like in Phagwa or Carnival. That is why a Rum-till-I-die-soaked Phagwa space is highly threatening. The child is highly imitative; we may find the child reluctant to obey our rules and advice, but they readily imitate. Careful: the child is the father of the man.

On the other hand, we cannot tyrannise over the child with an overdose of brought-upcy. One, Malcolm suggests, “How children survive being brought up, amazes me.” Here is a greater danger, because we are so caught up in our good intentions that we are unconscious of the effect on the child and childhood.

Often parents are so caught up in the adult rat race that childhood is sacrificed in an attempt to bring forward adulthood. Good intentions with dire possibilities! (It amazes me how we deride an adult for being childish and applaud a child for being a man.) What are we confessing?

In the early 20th century, child labour was like a Hiranyakashipu, devouring the children. Mary Jones (1925) had this to say: “We want President Roosevelt to hear the wail of the children who never have a chance to go to school but work 11 or 12 hours a day in the textile mills of Pennsylvania.” Today Mary Jones would have to reverse complain about children who are sentenced to too much school: class even after school and late on evenings and even on weekends and holidays. The child has lost his play time, family time and community time.

Family time and community time are diminishing while schooltime is devouring more and more of the child. The danger here is that it is difficult to see. We see the school as the one tool to secure the child’s future and that through a prestigious certificate. (As a community worker I am also seeing the other side. I also have the privilege to learn from the child when parents begin to have problems with them.)

I suggest that this is causing great dislocation to the child. The child, being removed from active family time and community time, does not really get cultured in being part of a family and learning community membership; a rootlessness ensues.

Further, I suggest, the community is being dismantled as a result of their removal from community life. As a consequence, the community cannot offer the security it must. It cannot, because it has not learnt to so do through absenteeism.