Deciding a Gift or How I Got Anxiety for No Reason

The dates of a calendar mean nothing much for work means weekdays and some sacrificed weekends. But then it’s a particular day of some month and you realize that an event is about to occur soon for which you have to be prepared. The preparation involves very less about the physical make up of your attire or body and in the rarest of times remotely constitutes which you are an expert of. It is in concern of a composition, well thought out, expertly crafted, uniquely suited and fashioned in pursuance of conveying a birthday gift. At that point, with a pen or spoon or phone in hand, or standing, lying, sitting, jostling as the case may be, you encounter what the astronauts often talk about - ‘zero gravity’, except in your case, you have those feet firmly planted where you left them to be, attached to a body that has not left the known neighbourhood of solid ground, and yet you are now losing yourself rudderless in a maze, starting with the question –“What to gift?”

There can be no right answer. Trick question.

In the recent months to come, there are several occasions of such quality which will present a similar dilemma. Batman has taught me to have a contingency plan ready, but being a generally bad student, I have no plan prepared yet, although the thought buzzes annoyingly around me. I have begun to take longer walks in order to have time to think and figure out the perfect gift. I have become a brooding monk, and as the days fly away in the dust, the mad scientist at the verge of discovery will gradually take over. I hope it won’t come to the stage of a desperate and cornered politician. Nevertheless, I have learned a valuable lesson, something I learn every year but every year with flowers and the paddy, once the harvest is cleared, the lesson too fades away. I realise I know nothing about the people close to me.

I know something about what they like or they don’t because I have my choices to catalogue them by. However where I have no point of reference, the librarian simply jots them down in pieces of paper, stuffing them anywhere that is handy at the moment, and promptly forgets afterwards. I have listened to these people talk, enthusiastically, ardently, compassionately, honestly, but I have absorbed nothing. A sponge has more retaining capacity than me I am sure. I tell myself that it doesn’t make me a bad person. Unfortunately, I am not that confident that those persons will tell that to themselves about me too when I end up giving something that, when ripped out of the wrapping paper, doesn’t scream out “THOUGHTFUL.”

I honestly love people. I love their stories and minds. But I find no energy to judge them on the encounters I have with them nor the information I obtain. I simply immerse myself in the conversation, like a holiday maker in some beach, sitting on the sand, cradling a bottle of beer, looking at nothing but seeing everything, and leaving the beach unburdened. Conversations, when they don’t involve work, shouldn’t be like work, having to sift through for broken knowledge. Because that’s what assumptions precisely are. We find the pieces spread across many interactions under incomparable circumstances, and expect the jagged, scarred picture to be what the person is. It’s easy to just ask what they want and gift them with something they would truly enjoy. Instead I am expected to find something they may just like enough to smile saint-like, and hopefully not put it away in some Narnia closet, never to be found again. The worst case will simply inspire the three R’s of gifting – Re-packing, Re-gifting, Re-cycling. And by saving that person from suffering through this same anxiety of having to decide what to get as a gift for another, I shall consider my stupidly overthought gift to be the best one actually.

As I said, there cannot be a right answer.

Teaching is part of life

Teaching has become a part of the daily routine. It's been a decade since I started giving private tuitions to the local school children. I still remember when my grandmother suggested that I should try to earn my pocket money and introduced me to my first student. She used to teach as well but never took any payment. She believed that there is no price tag for education, it cannot be a commodity. To be frank, my financial condition prevented me then, and even now, to enjoy such a philosophy, but I have always made sure that I gave my full dedication as a teacher.

I have been lucky in my share of students. Although of various levels of intellect, all were more or less obedient. They were never "rebellious". The one thing about India is how we still treat our teachers with the same respect as with our parents. This has helped when I occasionally needed to be strict. 

Then everything changed when the fire nation attacked when I had this 7 year old as a student. 

To be honest, although I have spent a considerable portion of my life around kids, I have never felt much sentiment toward them. I'm not the one who likes to hold babies or pull a cute kid's cheeks. Children don't have the effect on me that people expect from me. I had been reluctant thus to take this little fellow as my student as well but the mother believed I had some mystical power of eternal knowledge and felt under my guidance her son will shine like a newly scrubbed diamond. (I don't make the propaganda, it just follows). Once I saw him I knew there would be a problem because that pampered little devil understood no authority. He won't even weep if beaten (his mother told me this, I never, could never if I tried, beat a kid) and didn't bother when scolded. His mother told me to punish him if he didn't behave (as if that would help!) and I was at a loss. 

The first four months were torture. He would not listen to what I said, wouldn't do his tasks on time, you get the picture. I would come home and tell my mother how I would definitely quit the next day. But I didn't. Somehow I went on. 

Then one day he asked me about zombies - how they were formed, what they would eat, how they could be killed. I promised to answer his questions if he finished his tasks on time. He did and I kept my promise. I have been keeping those promises ever since. 

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It's nearly the end of the annual term. The mother says that I need to continue the next term for the son insists upon it. And she feels he won't respond to anyone else this well. 

I remember what my grandmother said to me and believed in. I know I am still not in a position to teach for free, I do need that money. But I do know how that kid loves to sit close to me when he would do his sums, how he loves to pull my cheek when he is happy that he got an answer correct and how he makes me smile when he proudly shows his mother his report card and tells the exam was easy because I had explained everything to him. 

I am not saying I'm a great teacher. I don't even know how much of his improvement is due to me. I do know but that he has changed me a lot. I have become a warmer, a calmer and more understanding person. Most importantly I have learned how important it is to treat people how they want to be treated rather than how you want to treat them. I think that makes me a little less self centered as well. 

What I mean to say is education isn't a one way street. It's a straight exchange between two individuals. A teacher is benefited just as much as a student is and there lies the true value of education. Or at least that's what I think it is, probably what my grandma wanted me to understand as well. 

Is this something I only think? No way. Is it something we should all think? I very well think so, yes. 

So let's not give up teaching, let's not be give up on sharing for that's also what education is. Even if you're not a teacher, never let go of an opportunity to educate someone, to share your knowledge . You will be pleasantly surprised of what you learn about your ownself.