Gajanan said during a conversation: “Ramanlal! Your children speak with you so freely; they ask questions, jump and dance around you, and show you this and that. But my children are nothing like that. They don’t talk openly with me, they don’t ask questions, they don’t tell me what they read or write, or whether they play or wander around. What could be the reason for this?”
Ramanlal replied: “How can I say the exact reason without close association? But from what I observe and understand, I’ll tell you. I feel that the fault is not with the children. If there’s a fault, it’s yours. And in a way, that fault is due to unawareness or lack of skill.”
Gajanan: What? Please say.
Ramanlal: It’s your long-standing habit of not mingling with children. You act like an official! Servants, subordinates, everyone stays distant from you. Other lower officers too remain away, and your nature is also quite authoritative, sitting with a serious face. But children don’t like such behavior; they stay away from people like that.
Gajanan: But I do talk to them! I ask about school and play. When there’s a quarrel, I resolve it. I don’t just sit with a stern face. After all, I’m their father, and they are my children.
Ramanlal: But just asking questions doesn’t mean you’re really interacting with them. You act like their judge, not their friend.
Gajanan: So? How can a father become a friend?
Ramanlal: That’s the key! And in that lies the key to a child’s heart. Once you have that key, every lock opens. Then they’ll follow you around, ask new questions, dance and jump in front of you, and do whatever you say with enthusiasm and joy.
Gajanan: But how does one become a friend?
Ramanlal: I’ll tell you. One becomes a child’s friend by taking interest in their activities. Just asking what rank they got in school isn’t enough. But when you ask how they like school, what they think of their teacher, what jokes they make about him, that’s when they come closer. They always want to talk to someone about their school and what happens there. But when no one listens, they keep it all inside. If we lend an ear, they’ll open up to us too.
Gajanan: Then I should try that. But can one become a friend with just this?
Ramanlal: No, that’s just an example. A child’s life is filled with many little things. We can talk to them about what they like or dislike, what looks good or bad, what pleases them or doesn’t, what seems beautiful or not. They have opinions, preferences, and reasons behind them. If we take interest in knowing those, show sympathy towards their little joys and sorrows, and value their small actions, they start feeling that we are their friend. Only then does their heart blossom and open.
Gajanan: Your point makes sense. You seem to speak from deep experience.
Ramanlal: Yes, it is indeed from experience. Let me give you a couple of recent examples. My son has started collecting coins and stamps. When I found out, I immediately began helping him. I wrote to my friends to get him connected. Whenever I receive new stamps, I save them for him. I gave him several tips on how to collect stamps. He became extremely happy. Even more than a new pair of shoes or a cap, just a couple of stamps make him happier. We talk at length about stamps and the countries they come from. During those times, he beams with joy; I get to observe his personality, and he sees me with even more respect.
Gajanan: You really do a lot! I need to learn from you. Truly, I have been acting like an official, sitting like a statue, showing off authority, but I don’t know how to become a friend to my children. I must learn this.
Ramanlal: It’s not that you can’t do it. And there’s nothing difficult to learn. We just need to turn our attention to it. Take our neighbor Triveniben, for example; she has a wonderful knack for becoming friends with children. And she doesn’t spend all day with them. She simply knows their interests well. She’s well-educated and even teaches fifth standard students. But when she sits with children, they don’t feel intimidated. Yet they find her admirable and respectable.
She might say: “Do you like vadas? Say yes, then we’ll make them tomorrow! Who will grind the lentils? Who will pick the coriander? Who will help with frying?”
Then another conversation: “This chunri has a lovely weave, doesn’t it? When we were kids, we wore brown chunris. At that time, khadi wasn’t available. We all wore mill cloth. Your chunri looks like khadi, doesn’t it?”
Yet another topic: “Do you feel scared in the dark? When I was little, I used to feel strange fears. But one time, Bapu made me sleep in the dark and I didn’t feel scared, after that, the fear disappeared.”
Gajanan: Triveniben really speaks well. She seems to know children’s nature perfectly.
Ramanlal: Yes, and if we just turn our minds toward this, we’ll start understanding it too. It’s just that we stay blind to this, and that’s what ruins everything.
Gajanan: Indeed, Ramanlal! Today I’ve learned something truly new. Actually, I can have so many conversations with Hasmukh and Chandra. They play cricket, watch movies, and read short stories.
Ramanlal: Yes, now your perspective is set right. There’s so much to talk about in their world. And the best part is, while discussing their topics, we can gently introduce new perspectives. What they would never accept through preaching or commands; they’ll absorb easily through such conversations.
Gajanan: Absolutely true. Absolutely true.
Ramanlal: Good, then. No more today. Let’s continue this conversation another time.
Gajanan: Sure. Ram Ram!
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