Well, a young starlet is dead. A daughter of a famous singer attempted suicide. Another minor was brutally raped. A few people came under the wheels of a super swanky car. This didn’t happen yesterday or the day before, it has been happening for sometime now. The wise will say it is a result of having too much too soon. The wily will say, to hell with you! Stop the sermon and jump in the wagon or perish. Elsewhere, there are hundreds of little superstars in the making. Children as young as 7 years are vying for the top spot. To be famous, to be rich, to be successful. Oh, the bloody list is endless.
‘More’ is the new ‘less’. I mean more of everything. More money, fame, and the dirty game(s) to achieve the same. Clothes, accessories, toiletries, jewels, vehicles, housing, vacation, wealth, women, wine Gosh! What a lot of avenues to promote this ‘More’ culture (sorry Aditya Birla, this isn’t about you, err…not only about you).
Intellects will give this phenomenon a name. Consumerism, capitalism whatever-ism. Yes Sir, no sir. I damn well wouldn’t know one from the other Sir.
But I do know that I am scared. I am sacred that I may not be able to give ‘more’ of everything to my children. I am worried that I might disappoint them at times. But the mighty coward that I am, I do not even have the balls (is it not politically correct to say boobs in my case?) to steer them clear of this gigantic have-everything-in-excess wave.
For example, I cannot think of home-schooling my children because I am scared they might miss out on some information. I cannot think of coaxing them to tread hitherto untrodden paths as I am scared they might miss out on some comforts. I cannot think of encouraging them to be total rebels as I dread that they might miss out on certain morals. I cannot even allow them to ‘be’ (you know, without pushing them to be achievers) as I am afraid they might miss out on being successful.
What the hell am I supposed to do? C’mon if they choose to be musicians, is it too much to ask of them to be a Sonu Nigam or a Shreya Ghoshal? Or if they choose sport, is it selfish to pray for another Tendulkar? And, let’s say, by some incomprehensible miracle if they choose medicine, who wouldn’t love a second Dr. Devi Shetty?
Now, don’t you go all out on me. I am after all, an ordinary mother, who wants her children well “settled” in life. When everybody else is pushing through, if I do not jump in, my kids might end up nowhere (God forbid, Shiva Shiva, Shantham Papam).