How I met Yayati

My best-laid plans for my kids' love of science, music, and literature went awry

During my first pregnancy, I read Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time. I remember understanding very little of it and falling asleep on every second page. But I sincerely and fondly hoped that my child would take to the sciences. I was brought up on the story of Abhimanyu learning to break the chakravyuha while still in his mother’s womb. I could certainly try to inculcate a love for the pure sciences in my offspring? 

I didn’t stop at reading during my pregnancy. I bought numerous do-it-yourself kits for my firstborn, and with him I built models of volcanoes,
the solar system, made fossils with plaster of Paris, and spent a fortune on science books. 

By the time my second one was on the way, I had loosened up a little. I still read because I wanted my children to develop a love for reading. But this time it was Australian fugitive Gregory David Roberts’ Shantharam, rereading Purnachandra Tejasvi’s Karvalho, Orwell’s Animal Farm, Jerome K Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat, and the like—my kind of books. 

And both times, I listened to music from Bach to Balamurali Krishna. I don’t have much of an ear for such a class. I am more of a ’50s-’80s Bollywood and Sandalwood song type, but anything for my children.

As they—a son and a daughter, in that order—were growing up, I read to them every single night, and they listened to stories from Enid Blyton’s The Adventures of Pip and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn to Panchatantra and many more, including a few Kannada ones.

They were making good grades and were enrolled in music classes: tabla and keyboard. My daughter was also learning Kathak. All as per plan. I was sure I was raising gentle souls.

Then came the 12th-year itch, if there is such a thing. My son was 12 and in Class 6. He wouldn’t touch books, not even his textbooks! And the daughter had enough of her keyboard classes. I made peace. I could see my daughter’s graceful brhamaris as my son forcefully played the Tat Tat Thais on his tabla sometime in the near future, InshaAllah. So what if the chemistry teacher complained of his total lack of interest in the subject? It must be her! He was still scoring well in maths and biology.

Have you heard of Yayati, the king who was punished with the curse of premature old age but tried to live his life in vigour through youth borrowed from his son? The story is in the Bhagavata Purana, but I meet Yayati every day in the mirror.

My son is pursuing a degree in economics, plays football, and enjoys listening to hard rock (or is that heavy metal?), does not read at all and hasn’t touched his tabla in years. Daughter is an avid reader and shows interest in pursuing the sciences. But that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that they still sit down and talk to me. And we laugh our heads off.