Try a little tenderness!

The ironic part of bout moral stories is that nobody cares about the gist of it unless they can relate to it. The same rule is applicable for myths too, for instance, Onam. Nowadays it’s just a day for us Keralites to put on our traditional wear, make a flower carpet, have sadya and post everything on social media. Onam is supposed to be a reminder for us to work towards a prosperous future. After all, we spend a day celebrating a prosperous past which means there is a possibility for a thriving future. Apparently nobody sees it that way because the concepts of equality, righteous ruler and all the things associated with it seem far fetched.

I have heard plenty of morale stories while growing up. The sources of such stories varied from family, school and even office. I know for sure that at least once in your life you have heard the made-up anecdote from your superior. Which is a common scenario associated with the leave request in the corporate world.

Growing up, my parents used two different techniques to teach me the lesson, whenever needed. One, the all-time famous good old fashion hulk smash by mom which yielded great results in my childhood. On the contrary, dad used this psychological persuasion method using anecdotes, moral stories and his past experiences. My dad had 3 favorite anecdotes, one related to the education and other two related to the way to treat food. It was hard to wrap around those, they remained as tall tales.

Since my younger brother and I were born with silver spoon, we had some bizarre eating habits. We were picky eaters. We only ate our favourite food prepared in a preferred way. Unfortunately for mom, brother and I did not have any common favorites, she had to prepare at least 2 curries for every meal. Dad gets furious when we do the “nirahara” protest or waste food or not eat because the curry was not to our like. Every time it happened, he narrated his- story and how people around the world are starving. Guess what? In my perception, those things weren’t my concern since it takes place in some other family. So the valiant effort of my dad turns out to be another blah blah story.

My dad is a freelance networking professional aka fishermen and we live in a fishing community. There is a month of a year, which everyone in the fishing community is worried about. A month without any fishing or income of any sort. Mostly the community survives on the reserves and the savings they had. During this period dad insist us to visit the kitchen prior to a meal and check the inventory, if plausible to serve the food. We were like yeah, yeah another blah blah story!.

The blah blah stories were irrelevant for us till my SSLC. That’s when our life turned around. Our financial freedom crumbled down after my dad got sick. The things we took for granted became the luxury that we can’t afford. For the first time, dad’s education struggle story seems relatable. The struggle he had, walking barefoot with an empty stomach, old books and bags passed down by others was not anymore a fiction but a reality on the horizon. That moment I realized I had no excuse for a bad scorecard. Later I found out the essence of the rest of the blah blah stories – the hard way.

I started noticing that the frequency of dad’s visit to the kitchen is becoming a year around thing, not just for the particular month. The guy who gets furious when there is food left on your plate, leaving a portion of his food on his plate on a regular basis. The menu with ample dishes to choose from reduced to, coconut oil and salt, chilly chutney and fried pappad with rice. It took me a while to figure out we are broke to an extent where there is uncertainty over the next meal and the food left on dad’s plate is what my mom had. The custom of sharing food, which was common for newlyweds in those days had whole another level of meaning.

I know all these sounds exaggerated, even I had trouble when I heard these things for the first time from my dad. Recently I went to my nephews, they are 10 and 7 respectively with these stories and a grilled chicken. It all started because of a whatsapp status they have seen.One of their friends put on a bucket chicken preparation video, that gave them cravings for the dish.

I received a call from my aunt because their protest was getting bigger, without knowing the fact that their dad is out of job for a month. It was like going back in time for me. This time I had my experience to share with them, I was happy to know at least the elder one got the gravity of the situation. It’s hard to blame my nephew or his friend in this case. Kids are impressionable, we, the adults forget that fact sometimes.

Whether you like it or not you are somebody’s luminary. Things you do or teach has a ripple effect in these desperate times. Whilst you might not be experiencing the wrath of the pandemic, there are people fighting for their survival. People who could use a helping hand from anybody who is willing to lend one. This might be a great time to show compassion and humanity. Remember and remind to believe in humanity by setting the example. All I am asking from you is to be a typical Malayalee. When you cook, look at your neighbour’s kitchen to see if they are cooking too. If not, do what’s necessary or what you can. Action ALWAYS speaks louder than words. This might be the perfect time to try a little tenderness, now the world needs it more than ever.