When Past Come Knocking

Life of the mother of a teenage son keeps showing you something new and unexpected everyday.I mean you get used to encountering the not so pleasant surprises each day.For me the sudden announcement of the onset of teens of my son came with a shift of his interest in wrestling to music.Not any classical or golden age tasteful one but the contemporary pop in vernacular.The problem was not in the choice of language but the volume at which our ears were being forced upon by him.

The  notes were falling on my ear drums as a torture…hurting my sensibility,since a few days.I finally decided to talk to him about his new love. As I was busy shaming my son for listening such songs at loud volume, I felt goose bumps of deja vu deep down my spine. That urgent feeling of having experienced the scene before also. Yes, some 20-25 years back…only I see myself now in the role of my father in this present day scenario. Even the words flowing out of my mouth are his. God can’t I pick some different ones!But kids these days want a healthy explanation to every issue the parents dare to raise. Turning my eyes towards my ageing father now, expecting some verbal help from him…I got a stoic silent response. New players play the game and the old ones now exhausted of age and experience just watch subjectively. It seems my own parents who once were so vocal against me for playing the stereo so loud THAT TEN HOUSEHOLDS WOULD HAVE BEEN DISTURBED… have suddenly gone through a character change…like a patient of depression calms down after consuming a pill of Anxit.

A few more days went by…me still wondering why my son who was till late so calm and sweet transformed suddenly…can’t his ears learn to enjoy the sound at a moderate volume? Lost in such questions,I was recalling all those things my mother would say to me and my brother, when we became difficult ones to deal with-I wish you too have the kids like yourself. But no that’s how the genetics works. Not guided by the curse of the mothers…It passes on through chromosomes where live our genes…that keep surfacing every now and then…preparing the background for fresh new tussles between the generations.

So one night before sleeping sonie wanted to play antakshri with me. I thought although the fellow keeps drinking music day-night, I have never heard him humming…on the note of optimism for the game to end up in minutes, I decided to play. Another surprise was poured upon me when I for the first time in my motherhood heard my boy singing stanzas of the popular vernacular numbers…he didn’t let the game finish…he was actually singing sweetly…all notes falling on proper place…my initial irritation due to my sleep being disturbed evaporated and I found myself admiring his newly acquired talent…I thought he may not be brilliant at school studies but if polished to sing he may never starve in life…BUT thundered my genes in me -A singer in the family of professionals?…Either mathematics or social sciences are worth admiration. Thus keeping the generations engaged these genes play their own wicked games with us the mortals till we live. Making not only us behave in the pre-programmed manner but also those with whom we share them. Generations after generations keep SUFFERING under their influence. Giving jolts of surprises at their exhibition by our kids and grand kids. Each generation wondering at the BEHAVIOR of the next…forgetting conveniently that moment…its just the repetition of the cycle instigated by the element they have themselves passed on to the present day culprits.

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