MY HERO

“Taron zameen pe” most tastefully made child movie I have seen. The story revolves around a child suffering from dyslexia Ishaan and his family; A mother who still sees him as a baby to an extent he becomes her doll, Don’t get me wrong she adores him, she always has his back, but she thinks him to be dumb and her main predicament is how to spend today without be reminded her kid has trouble: her motto “I have to keep working hard then every trouble will solve itself”; A father who is impatient to make a man out of an eight year old, who sees childhood as path to follow to reach the main destination …him or even better a more successful him: his motto is the oldest in the book “Discipline, obedience to the wise (read all elders) and hard work will make a winner”; An elder brother at the least 4 years older than Ishaan, loves him unconditionally, then again it is easy for him as he is not responsible of the child’s future like the parents are.

Ishaan has an over active imagination, he copes with world’s disappointment in him by escaping into his fantasies, He denies his impediments to over whelm him by running away. He stands up against any authority with cocky confidence to deny anybody a peak into his own self doubts.

It is uncanny how much this kid reminds me of my early childhood. I might not have been dyslexic but I had real trouble with writing. My handwriting was obnoxious (now it has improved to state of just being illegible), my spellings were unsettling to say the least (I never understood the need for e at end of a word if you spelt have as hav is there going to be any difference? My p’s & g’s , b’s & d’s , a’s & o’s were all interchangeable;) it is funny now but if you were my teacher you would have found it unbearably tiring. My mind revolted from writing a dictated answer. May be I was being stubborn or may be I had high morality concerning intellectual property but I insisted on writing in sentences which were overambitious for my stunted grammar. Now imagine correcting a paper where you have no clue what the child is trying to say, in incomprehensible language and illegible handwriting. In a class of 50 I was in last 15.

I was a difficult kid. It is easy to bring up a child who is hard working, ambitious, willing to fight for respect. I was none of that. I used to be able sit for hours (8 to 10) in my study and entertain myself with my fantasies. How do you help a kid like that?

Every kid needs a hero, an Amir Khan who lets him or her believe that they are capable. Who relentlessly protect the child from the critical society. Who promises the child no matter what he or she does I your hero will be in your side.

My Amma, my HERO.
My Appa, my HERO

Well it is not exactly like the movie, they did have a little bit of Ishaan’s parents in them, but they were overwhelmingly my Amir Khan.

There had been times when they felt trapped and helpless and reacted like any human overloaded with responsibility, they lost temper.
They never lost faith. MY HERO.

They never let me doubt my intelligence; they encouraged any random bit of competence I let escape my demeanor.
They fashioned my self esteem. MY HERO.

They let me contradict them. Our ego burns when our ideas are challenged by our peers. They let an eight year old kid created by them question their beliefs.
They let no one kill my spirit. MY HERO.

Now that I have moved on, now that I no longer choose to remember those days
I forget MY HERO.