Dressed in a salwar, kameez, dupatta, a leather bag and a pair of shoes; Shikha comes out of her room and says, “Mama, I am going to Office”. Like every parent, Pratima was amused at the antics of her 12 year old. But that smile was short-lived; soon to be overwhelmed by a sad thought, “This will always remain a game for her. She will never be able to go to office.”
Shikha plays many such games – she imitates her elder sister and “goes to college”; she “teaches” several imaginary students; she “treats” her teddy with her “doctor’s kit”; she also enacts a marriage. And that is normal. Every child plays such games. The difference is in the confused, extreme reactions she receives from us, the parents – at times overjoyed with the “dream of the present” and sometimes deeply hurt with a contrasting “reality of the future”.
I believe this is the dilemma of every parent of a “child with special needs.” Every achievement of the child brings “undecided tears” – to an onlooker, it is often difficult to figure out if these tears symbolize joy or sadness.
These undecided tears have been our faithful companion for last 12 years – right since the day an unusually depressed doctor announced the “mixed news” of her arrival with an extra chromosome. These tears have stood witness to many occasions - when she walked; when she uttered the first proper words; when she started to recognize colours; when she started to scribble; and when she spent a full day at the school; when she performed on the stage; when she drew; when she painted; when she swam; and when she learned to balance the basket ball.
For a normal child, these moments “arrive”. In case of Shikha, many of these moments were “made to arrive”. The tireless optimism of her mother, that has kept her going. Shikha’s walk to the podium, at National Paralympics Competition, to claim her silver and bronze is only a culmination of several months of routine training backed by the hopes and aspirations of a mother who wants a fair share of limelight for her “special child”. This aspiration makes her “create time” despite her nagging responsibilities at home and at job and to ensure Shikha goes to the therapist, to the tutor, to the dance classes, to swimming lessons and to the school. And, there is light at the end of the tunnel. It all becomes worth the hard work when you see the child get an extra dose of confidence through these special moments of recognition.
In some ways, Shikha is lucky. Before sending her into this world, God decided to create the setting by sending Shreya as her elder sister who plays the perfect role of the “second mother” to Shikha. Often, as anxious parents, we have been guilty of robbing Shreya of her share of attention. Yet, the “second mother” seems to have a perfect understanding and maturity to shower even greater (exaggerated!) attention on her.
For us, life has acquired greater meaning and richness because of Shikha. Thank God for the undecided tears. They help us enjoy every moment of Shikha’s journey and yet not lose sight of the long and complex road ahead.
Shikha plays many such games – she imitates her elder sister and “goes to college”; she “teaches” several imaginary students; she “treats” her teddy with her “doctor’s kit”; she also enacts a marriage. And that is normal. Every child plays such games. The difference is in the confused, extreme reactions she receives from us, the parents – at times overjoyed with the “dream of the present” and sometimes deeply hurt with a contrasting “reality of the future”.
I believe this is the dilemma of every parent of a “child with special needs.” Every achievement of the child brings “undecided tears” – to an onlooker, it is often difficult to figure out if these tears symbolize joy or sadness.
These undecided tears have been our faithful companion for last 12 years – right since the day an unusually depressed doctor announced the “mixed news” of her arrival with an extra chromosome. These tears have stood witness to many occasions - when she walked; when she uttered the first proper words; when she started to recognize colours; when she started to scribble; and when she spent a full day at the school; when she performed on the stage; when she drew; when she painted; when she swam; and when she learned to balance the basket ball.
For a normal child, these moments “arrive”. In case of Shikha, many of these moments were “made to arrive”. The tireless optimism of her mother, that has kept her going. Shikha’s walk to the podium, at National Paralympics Competition, to claim her silver and bronze is only a culmination of several months of routine training backed by the hopes and aspirations of a mother who wants a fair share of limelight for her “special child”. This aspiration makes her “create time” despite her nagging responsibilities at home and at job and to ensure Shikha goes to the therapist, to the tutor, to the dance classes, to swimming lessons and to the school. And, there is light at the end of the tunnel. It all becomes worth the hard work when you see the child get an extra dose of confidence through these special moments of recognition.
In some ways, Shikha is lucky. Before sending her into this world, God decided to create the setting by sending Shreya as her elder sister who plays the perfect role of the “second mother” to Shikha. Often, as anxious parents, we have been guilty of robbing Shreya of her share of attention. Yet, the “second mother” seems to have a perfect understanding and maturity to shower even greater (exaggerated!) attention on her.
For us, life has acquired greater meaning and richness because of Shikha. Thank God for the undecided tears. They help us enjoy every moment of Shikha’s journey and yet not lose sight of the long and complex road ahead.
