Waking up when it is too late
Somewhere during the end of December
2012, I visited Sigiriya for the first time. The climb threw me into an ocean
of feelings that confused and suffocated me. It was a journey that made me
realize how easy we are to replace. It was a journey that made me realize how
terms like Amma, Thaththa, Duwa and Putha are special. I’ve only called one
person Amma, one person Thaththa and so on. In fact, I’ve never called more
than one person Athamma, Seeya, Mama or Nanda. Others who were also my
grandparents, aunts or uncles, were either addressed by their names followed by
Seeya, Athamma, etc or were addressed by synonyms, for instance Achchi instead
of Athamma.
Background pic by Kevin Fernando |
However, I’ve been called Duwa by
many people, not just my parents. My grandparents, uncles and aunts and a few
other grown ups call me Duwa. There are also the strangers I’ve met, friends of
my parents and teachers, to whom I will always be a daughter.
Somehow, while I don’t give much
thought to being a daughter to many, I want to be the only daughter of my
parents. This isn’t an issue since I’m the only girl in the family, and since
my cousins aren’t a threat to the love my mother shows me, I have never been
bothered when my mother called them Duwa or Putha. However, last year, during
the trip, I realized my father called his niece Duwa, and I certainly didn’t
want to share him with people I don’t even know well.
However, this wasn’t the only thing
that bothered me about the trip. What hit me the most was how my father chose
that Duwa over me, his own daughter. Sure, she’s years younger than I am, a
kid, and needed more help than I did. However, it hurt that I had to climb
Sigiriya all alone, and when there was nothing to hold on to, I knew that girl
had my father’s hand to hold. It was then that I felt the most abandoned.
We went on another trip recently,
and went for a short walk in Sinharaja. This time, especially during the walk
back, my father and I spent a lot of alone time together. We spoke about
various things, and this time I knew I had someone to hold on to. I knew he
would help me through the rocky areas. And he did help me through certain
areas. But most of the time, I didn’t need him.
That’s when it hit me that we truly
do fly away from the nest our parents create for us. They work hard to give us
everything they never had in life; luxuries that often end up doing more harm
than good. In most families, both parents work. Thus children see very little
of them.
There is a story of a little boy who
asks his father how much he’s paid for an hour of work. The father tells him,
and the son then asks for 50 dollars or so from the father. The boy is told he
has no need for money. The story ends when the son tells his father that he
needed the money to have enough to buy an hour of his father’s life, just so
the boy could spend some time with him.
Who do you remember the most from
your childhood; your parents or the person who took care of you? Most of us are
fonder of our grandparents because they were there for us when we were small.
Who wiped our tears when we bruised our knees? Who made us dinner and let us
stay up till late? Who made pillow forts for us to play in?
We are birds who will fly away, and
as we leave our teens and slowly take steps into adulthood, our parents wake
up. They realize they spend very little time with us, that they don’t really
know us. So they make time. They show us they are there. They take us out for
meals, movies and other outings. Sadly, they choose to be there when we no more
have a need for them.
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