Mask and the eyes.

 

Mask and the eyes.

I never had problem in wearing a mask. From my early childhood itself I got used to it. You may be bit surprised and will be thinking which mask am I talking about. Definitely I am not talking of the pandemic mask. Rather the one which I started wearing long back, though unknowingly. The mask was artificial; nevertheless, it was an extended part of my body. I never got any training nor did anyone teach me how to wear it without getting noticed. Even before I could realise its purpose, the mask had become a natural part of my life.

In front of my parents I wore the mask of obedience and agreement. With friends it was one of acceptance and rarely any indifference. At school I always carried the mask of discipline. Workplace taught me to wear those of submission and compliance. While meeting government officials or politicians the best suited was that of servitude and surrender. Only with my son I bravely wore the mask of authority and power; that too only till he started wearing the mask of indifference. I have always wondered how, without any formal training we could acquire this wonderful skill of wearing multiple masks as and when we need them. At the same time, I have to admit that, it was this skill which safely took me through all the hassles of life. The more adept you are in wearing different masks, the more successful you will be. In short, a winner is a person with many masks.

 However, what I am struggling with now is the mask upon mask. Through years of use I had perfected those multifarious masks. But this new mask is like a mask on top of another mask. Other masks helped me in feigning all my natural expressions and reactions. Even though my pretenses were understood by others it was well masked. Thus while being irritated you could pretend to be pleasant; even when angry you could smile; and though you are in disagreement with the idea you could fake acceptance with great ease.

The new mask covers your face to a large extend thus limiting my scope of using those other masks perfectly. Those areas were much easier to manipulate. A dry lip, blushing cheeks, or a wry smile could help in building a great façade. Now that option is completely gone.

The biggest danger is, the new mask, while covering the lower part of the face, exposes the eyes. Eyes had, in fact refused to be a part of other masks so far. While those masks fitted so perfectly to other parts of the face it could never influence the eyes as they were the most defiant. Eyes always stood firmly with the truth and genuineness. Fortunately we were all too focused with the other parts of the face that we could never decipher the message the eyes were trying to convey. Even if we understood we pretended otherwise. We never dared to look into others eyes. Now, the eyes, which were hitherto left unnoticed, have become very prominent.

It cannot be avoided as it is the only part which is visible and they are exploiting this opportunity to its fullest. Eyes have come back with a vengeance. They are taking revenge for their years of forceful subordination. I may even get used to this mask upon mask. But what will I do with my eyes. My eyes are out there to expose me fully. Years of my masquerading beneath the masks will crumble now. Even while having a mask upon a mask, everything which was veiled till now will be exposed.

This made me think; are these masks a real eye opener? Is the pandemic, in a queer way, trying to teach us how to look into others eyes? Is someone nudging us to eschew all those pretenses and be more truthful? Is nature, while forcing us to physically cover the whole face, but leaving the eyes open, teaching us how to be honest to ourselves? When it is time to remove this second mask, will I be brave enough to throw away those other masks along with it? Will I be ready to look into others eyes without searching for any malice and hatred? Or is there anything more to this than meet the eyes?

“Love Story “and my teenage son

 

“Love Story “and my teenage son

My son will turn seventeen this month. Seventeen looks like too much teen. As he steps further into teen, like most of the parents, I too get worried. It seems bit funny to say that a father is “worried” about his son. Probably, worried is not the right word. In that case, is it concern, anxiety, fear? Words may be inadequate to convey the feeling we have. On the other hand, there is no need to have the exact word since every parent, with a teenage child, will understand what I am trying to share.

When young, it was easier to understand him. Or that is what I thought. As he grew up it became difficult to fathom his thoughts, aspirations, reactions and tastes. It was becoming difficult to fit him into a particular category. Human being has this ability to draw columns or matrices and classify people accordingly. There are consultants and experts who can help you in doing that. They have psychometric tests which will determine the personality of your child.

As a father, I want to know what my son is and will be in future. So I have to take him through various tests to know in which category he can be fitted into. I may force him to undergo analysis so that we will know he belongs to which box and then arrange to cut the life according to his size and taste. It does not mean that I am not aware he is still in his teens and too young to understand many of such classifications. He is just like a fruit on the tree which can still turn sweet or sour. But i can’t afford him to be sour. I want him to be sweet and successful, throughout his life.

However, like the mythical fish, he was, at amazing speed outgrowing all those pots I moulded for him.  He is becoming bigger and bigger, not just physically. It is true that I am losing sleep at his startling growth. I have spent hours trying to understand him better. I have even tried to evaluate him from his natural expressions and reactions. Since I failed to gauge him fully I thought of approaching these experts and take their professional help. A better sense whispered in my ears that he is too raw to show his natural leanings, but I decided to ignore those  advice as such suggestions can be extremely misleading. For such significant issues in life it is better to listen to professionals rather than the rants of the amateur mind.

These professionals are experts equipped with various tools. They can mentally, emotionally, intellectually and psychologically dissect your child and tell you exactly what he or she will become in future. Through a series of processes they will determine his personality, rightly recognise his temperament, identify his potential, analyse his strength and weaknesses and suggest how to build his future, brick by brick. They can ensure our children will always be sweet and successful, provided we hand over them to these experts at the ripe age. I too had almost decided to consult such a specialist.

Meanwhile he had his vacations and I thought of allowing him few free days before he is subjected to those tests. Reading is another habit I want him to develop. He likes reading. Nevertheless, he has his tastes and will read at his pace and leisure. Needless to say I dislike this. I wish to see him with a book always. I want him to keep aside his PS4 and other gadgets and cosy up in a corner with a thick classic. So I had selected few books for him to read. Interestingly he picked up “LOVE STORY” by Erich Segal from the lot. May be it is the size of the book or the title which attracted him. This was one book which had impacted me a lot when I read it for the first time. Probably, this book has moved generations of teens. It is a fact that most of our films and popular books are just variations of this amazing book. No one can read through it without wetting their eyes. So, I was happy when he selected the book and eager to know how he will react to the book. To use a cliché, he took to the book like a duck to the water. Even when I walked into his room he did not notice me as he was so immersed in the book.  He read it in less than an hour. After reading it i could see that he was visibly upset or rather moved. Something was brewing inside him which he was not able to express. So I went and sat beside him. To my surprise, the next thing I saw was him sobbing uncontrollably. I was bit surprised and asked him what happened. Then he leaned on to my shoulders and started weeping, unashamedly. The book had such an impact on him that he could not control his emotions. That was a new experience for me. For the first time I was observing such strong emotions in him. I knew he is emotional and sensitive. But the fact that a book can influence him so much was a new discovery for me. Suddenly I could see my son in a new light. Rather, I could realise who my son is. He could read a book and relate himself to pure love; he could recognise the pain of death and loss; he could value the strength of relationship; he has a heart ready to accept the softer side of life; somewhere he could connect himself with that deeper essence of life.  He could openly express his emotions without being bothered about the image such a blatant expression of emotions can create about him. Above all, he felt my shoulder is a place where he can lean and weep. He understood the strength of that bonding. What else I need to know about my son? Why should I subject him to all those analysis and classifications? Since he has learned the secret of his heart, I cancelled the appointment for his psychoanalytical test. At times, honest tears can be better than many tests.