Will you not give me the gift of your presence?

say love is time. If you love me, spend time with me, accept me for who I am; do not clip my wings and put me into your mould; rather help me to grow wings and fly into the horizon of hope

I am Satish, I am 16 years old, and this is the story of how I died. I lived in the beautiful city of Bangalore surrounded by many comforts. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, so to say. My parents earned well and never refused me anything money could buy.

However, I could never get the marks they wanted nor was I outstanding in sports or music. All I wanted to do was play with colours and that did not figure in their scheme of things. The friends I chose to hang out with caught their disapproving glances.

They were well-educated professionals with a reputation to preserve and I was an insult to their ego. I was never good enough for them and they were never good enough for me. To them I was disobedient, ungrateful and indifferent.

 They never understood that their presence made the palatial house a home; their presence made my life worth living; their presence gave me courage to go on.

They say they love me and that’s why they put me down, spend more time working; prod me to a career of their choice.

I say love is time. If you love me, spend time with me, accept me for who I am; do not clip my wings and put me into your mould; rather help me to grow wings and fly into the horizon of hope.

 I have tried it all; dope does not give hope, friends are not faithful; depression is now my constant companion and it sucks me into a black hole. I need wings, I need hope, I need someone to hold me as I cry, someone to believe in me….I do not have any more strength to hold on to life as it has nothing to offer me. I GIVE UP….

The parents of Satish weep now holding his lifeless body. What he longed for in life happened in death. But it did not have to be so. What our loved ones need from us is more presence, not presents; more patience, not pressure; more peace, not pain; more prayer, not power.

They never understood their presence made the palatial house a home; their presence made my life worth living; their presence gave me courage to go on.

Our children are God’s gift to us and we are accountable to him as to how we steward what has been entrusted to us. We are not expected to make our children success stories in the world of business or education. Our great calling is to be a channel of unconditional love and hope for them; to let them see in our eyes that they are valuable, unique and have a God-ordained purpose; to hold their hand and lead them by example as they discover themselves and live a fulfilling life.

 

Published in the April 2014 issue of the Forward Press magazine


Forward Press also publishes books on Bahujan issues. Forward Press Books sheds light on the widespread problems as well as the finer aspects of the Bahujan (Dalit, OBC, Adivasi, Nomadic, Pasmanda) community’s literature, culture, society and culture. Contact us for a list of FP Books’ titles and to order. Mobile: +919968527911, Email: info@forwardmagazine.in

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