Excuse Me Please!

This apology to my children is coming 25-30 years late. How would I have known how they felt all those years when they were growing up?

You see, I got my chances closer to my 60s. It started with the lockdown, and I swung into action. I got serious about my music. It started with voice culture. Then came the pitch, the swaras (notes), the taala (tempo), the improvisations, the ragas (melody) and the feeling – in that order. It is work in progress. But I have been rejoicing in the sound of my voice and the silence in between, just the way I like it.

Never having played a sport, I nervously signed up for tennis. It started with the much-needed hand-eye coordination. Then came watching the ball, the racket, the footwork, the opponents, your partner, and the court – not necessarily in that order. It is work in progress, but every time I am on the court I am overjoyed with every point.

Swimming has always been on my mind and stayed there until now. Last year, I took the plunge. It started with being calm just standing in water. Then came the floating, the propping up, the turning and returning, moving the arms, daring the deeper end, and breathing – whatever order I could muster. Phew, am I a work in progress? But every time I am in the water, it is truly a meditative experience.

I have fabulous teachers. They have my context, know my pace, understand my fears, build on my strengths and give bite sized feedback I can work on. I enjoy every lesson, every practice and the people I do these with. The most annoying thing – the stray observer who has a passing advice – I could tell, you didn’t hit that one note right. While at the net (if!), you got to make sure it is a ‘put-away’ shot. Don’t worry, keep working on your strokes – you’ll get better. I ignore them all.

As I do a rewind on life, here is what I see. While we opened our children, to opportunities we didn’t get in life, we were excited and anxious.

I have that image of the two little feet dangling in the water. As a 4-year-old, your butt firmly planted on the side of the pool while Mr.K patiently worked with you. Or at 6 when I was trying the 4th swim instructor for you. The stoic Mrs.L who insisted diving into the pool will help you overcome fear.

The legs dangling as you sat in front of the piano and tiny hands that tried to make music. Legs planted not-so-firmly, as you stood in front of the music notes with size 1/8th violin. Or straining your neck to reach the mic as you sat to sing a solo. You were confident.

Soccer, baseball, basketball, tennis – you humored us by trying them all.

And then there was us on the sidelines. Trust the teacher and jump in. With a little more practice, you could get the feeling just right. Your serve needs a little more power. You might want to work on your anticipation of the ball. You could not ignore us because we were always there.

Parenting is like swimming. It is amazingly easy to coach from the sidelines. You only matter when you jump into the water. I am doing it from the rear-view mirror and now I know what it felt like. Sorry Children.