Rowdy

Asha has been bullied by a boy. Lets call him "Manoj". Manoj studies with Asha in 3rd standard and has been pushing her and poking her. Last week it got a bit too much and Asha told Sheba about it.

Sheba wrote a small note to the teacher in Asha's diary and that seemed to settle the matter.

Yesterday evening - as we were catching up on the week with each other Sheba mentioned this to me. A few minutes after we talked, Sheba got a call from a parent saying that he would like to come and meet us at home along with his son.

Sheba said that it was ok to come over.

About 1/2 an hour later our doorbell rang.

We looked out to see a small crowd. A man, two women, two teens, and two kids Asha's age. I thought that they were coming to collect some donations for a festival or something. We opened the door and they came in.

The kids were Asha's classmates. The adults the parents of one of them and the mother of another. The teens were older siblings - one per child. The Indian upper middle class has been scrupulous in following the Hum-do-hamara-do family planning formula (the Eichers being another piece in this giant jigsaw of our country).

What unfolded next was not what we expected - Manoj's father coming to challenge us about what we had written to the teacher. Rather it was the parents another boy who had been scratched up by Manoj - and the mother of a girl who sits next to Manoj and gets another variety of the same.

Sheba has been the class Parent Teacher representative for most of this year - and now at the fag end of the year we have received our first request to do something. The parents had brought a letter that they were going to submit to the principal. They seemed concerned for Manoj - as much as they were concerned for their children.

In the course of our conversation a small picture of urban upper class India emerges. A well-to-do family where the father is not seen. Is he dead? In Dubai? In the army? Starting a new factory? The parents who came said that different people have told them different things.

A mother who has tried to get Manoj's elder sister into modelling. A mother who says that Manoj has done no wrong - and that it is all the other children who are tormenting him. A mother who calls the other children up and tells them not to be bad to Manoj, but hangs up quickly before the children can give the phone to their parents.

The flip side is also there. Parents who network amongst themselves - comparing notes - triangulating the lives of others. All deeply concerned about their children's future and well being. Mothers who strive to speak in English and somewhat sheepishly slip into Hindi when they get animated. Older siblings eager to put in their two bits. The drama of the Indian extended family (we missed the grand-parents on this visit - but they would surely also add their vim and vigour to the mix were they physically present).

We were a bit taken aback by all of this. All we could say is that they were welcome to share their concerns with the teacher and authorities at the school - and that Manoj and his family are in need of care and understanding. Sheba hopes to meet the teacher about this today and may end up meeting Manoj's mother too.

So much of our outward behaviour mirrors what goes on inside our hearts, mirrors the sad pallid dramas that are played out inside our 4 walls. So many of our little ones act out what they see happening at home. How much of the rowdy behaviour is a plea for help? Is a deep desire to be touched and loved?