I have always hated it. I call it the great comparison. When you are compared against everyone on the planet except yourself. When you are invited to betray your identity, assume another’s. The guilty, mostly those closest to you, and worse who genuinely care for you. Their intentions are pure as the morning dew.
But I was lucky, saw through the muck and saw the light. I knew the perpetrators had my best in mind, even though the foundational principle was seriously flawed. In my case, I was lucky, since my parents’ used the tactic for inspiration only. Coercion was never in their arsenal. They focused on the process, the formula, the slog, the labour. And mostly in the academic ambit.
Someone’s son, cousin, relative, someone of someone else, their son, daughter, grandchild locked themselves in during exams, never came out, their parents apparently had to coerce a break out of them. Force them to chill. Big deal. Their relationship to us did not matter, just the lesson. Some of these guys still flunked exams or university entrance, or even better, they flunked but bloomed in unrelated fields. God only knows what they did behind locked doors. Perhaps they sighed, read comics (comics were big those days), day dreamed of better things and sighed again. But they touched their dreams. The lesson was clear, the need for dedication and commitment, to dreams. I know, this lesson is universal. It was always the case. But you do NOT have to compare with anyone else to know this.
And growing up in a developing country, following your truest passions, your heart, often meant poverty. It was the reality. Being a dancer, singer, musician, was always good, but those best stayed as a hobby. I bow down, with reverence to all those who held out, who faced poverty, hardships, but stayed the course. Made their passions (I mean the talent kind) their life, at least their profession. And an even rarer handful came out on top. They sang, played and wrote their way to become the crème a la crème of their chosen field. They stayed on course, hugged their true self and never let go. Did I mention courage in its purest form. They may have suffered, a lot, but perhaps are happy. There is always happiness in being true, true to one’s passions, perhaps this is fact, but has a prohibitive price tag in a third world country.
Now the biggest epiphany, to me at least, they only compared themselves…to themselves. Or their better self. They ran the race against themselves. They looked in the mirror and saw something more, their potential. If they lost, at least it was to themselves. I don’t know what is harder, losing to an alien ideal or…or to the inner ideal. But I reckon losing or winning against yourself is truer and more divine.
Recently, an elderly relative, invited my kids to be inspired by two other relatives. In typical cultural fashion he was sadly marking his comparison on academia. But the source of inspiration were good in their studies, and nothing else. At least use the complete package when comparing.
“No way! they will follow their own paths, discover and achieve their own personal destinies,” I screamed…the words swirling in my mind. I wish I had released them. A missed opportunity. But there will be more soon, people cannot help themselves. Even in the modern sophistication and cultural melting pot of Melbourne, some cultural innuendos boil to the top, some which are undesirable and unbearable.
So, I have set the bar high, for myself, as an immigrant parent simmering in cultural memories, seeking the sweet spot of productive union. I will allow my children to find their own destiny, facilitate and nurture it. I like the sound of it when I say it loud. Perhaps I need some posters in my study and bedroom.
Just recently I enquired of my eldest, not so covertly, what his friends got for mathematics in the last test. He raised his eyebrows with a cute smirk blossoming across his face.
“Seriously Thaththi?”
It is annoying when kids smirk, especially when they are yours, and it’s devastating when they are right and a tragedy when they know you know they are right.
I backpedalled viciously.
“I…I meant to know generally, to get an under…”
“Seriously Thaththi?”
He goes again, holding his expression with a soldier’s tenacity.
Some ambitions suffer setbacks. Sigh!!
Glossary
Thaththi = Dad/Father.