On children....

We all want our children to fulfill dreams that we were not able to fulfill for ourselves. We push them in directions they don't wish to go. We expect them to live the life we choose for them. We lay down exacting standards and want our children to adhere to them. We compare them to others causing permanent scars on their psyches.
Why do parents think of their children as extensions of themselves? To be designed and crafted into pre-set molds of the parents'expectations and presumptions of what is right and wrong for them? Joys of childhood, a carefree and happy life, the simple pleasures of exploration and experiment are all capsuled and stored for a later time. After tests, after exams, after tuition, after coaching, after this level and after that level...Sadly when all the exams and levels are over and done with - so is childhood!
The only species to keep tending their young long after they no longer remain young - human parents just never cut the umblical cord. In the process they end up bitter, unhappy, dissatisfied with their progeny and very lonely. Khalil Gibran has summed it up so beautifully....

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Poetry from the Heart!

I have always been a great fan of Javed Akhtar's poetry. It invokes feelings without getting wordy and literary. Here's a classic from his collection 'Tarkash'

सच ही है बेकार हमें ग़म होता है
जो चाहा था दुनिया में कम होता है
ढलता सूरज फैला जंगल रास्ता गुम
हमसे पूछो कैसा आलम होता है
गैरों को कब फुर्सत है दुःख देने की
जब होता है कोई हमदम होता है
जख्म तो हमने इन आँखों से देखे हैं
लोगों से सुनते हैं मरहम होता है
ज़हन की शाखाओं पे अशआर आ जाते हैं
जब तेरी यादों का मौसम होता है