He came to me, yesterday, looking worried and said that I have to be visiting his school the next day for paying his fees. His parents are construction labourers and for the last five years, my family has been taking care of his education. He studies in an English medium school for chidren from the low income group. He is probably about twelve now. His parents are not sure of his birth date or year. He is in class fourth as he started his education late.
Something in his demeanor alerted me and I asked him if anything was the matter. He then told me that there's been trouble in school. There is a girl in his class, he really likes. She is his best friend. At lunch time, he had said to her, " I am loving you and its ok if you dont want." A classmate of his had written a letter with similar words in his name and given it to the girl. Hell had broken loose and he had been called to the principal's office and had been thrashed. And had been told to bring us to the school the next day or else he would be thrown out.
So I went today to the school. The principal was not present and I met the headmistress. She seemed to be a caring person, involved with the children and concerned about them.She called the aggrieved party. A nine year old, wisp of a girl. Shy, fragile, large eyed. I asked her as gently as I could about what had happened. Tears welled up as she struggled to articulate the three words,the boy had said to her. "I love you." I talked to her about love, about the wider implications of it and that its not something to be feared and reviled. She seemed pacified, smiled and left.The headmistress said to me that this could have become a really serious matter as she was the only child of her parents and her parents are the really fussy type. I promised to talk to my protege, explain things to him so that this does not happen again. I tried to explain to her that he is stepping into adolescence and is going through physical and psychological changes. And that this is happening to many other children in the school. They need to be talked to, listened to and not punished.That might lead to alienation or deviant behavior.
This incident has occupied my mind since then. What makes 'love' such a dirty word? The little girl's tears haunt me. At nine, the word had shocked and upset her. She has already imbibed its negative connotations. If the boy had spoken of hate, I wonder if it would have been a big issue at all. He would definitely not have been thrashed. What does this experience teach him? That its not done to speak of love to anyone.It is a serious offence and has serious repercussions.Though it is acceptable to beat someone and be beaten as he was.
I look within annd find that love is a dirty word for me as well. I find it very difficult to say those three words. Or even accept them to myself. There is a sense of embarassment, fear, vulnerability. I notice how quickly I look for signs of rejection in any relationship and seek to withdraw. I look back over the years and wonder when and how I was indoctrinated against love. When did all these walls and barriers come up in me without my knowledge? Do I have the strength to break them down now? I remember the weeping little child and I mourn too.
.
This incident has occupied my mind since then. What makes 'love' such a dirty word? The little girl's tears haunt me. At nine, the word had shocked and upset her. She has already imbibed its negative connotations. If the boy had spoken of hate, I wonder if it would have been a big issue at all. He would definitely not have been thrashed. What does this experience teach him? That its not done to speak of love to anyone.It is a serious offence and has serious repercussions.Though it is acceptable to beat someone and be beaten as he was.
I look within annd find that love is a dirty word for me as well. I find it very difficult to say those three words. Or even accept them to myself. There is a sense of embarassment, fear, vulnerability. I notice how quickly I look for signs of rejection in any relationship and seek to withdraw. I look back over the years and wonder when and how I was indoctrinated against love. When did all these walls and barriers come up in me without my knowledge? Do I have the strength to break them down now? I remember the weeping little child and I mourn too.
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