When men Cry

When men cry
by Punam Khaira Sidhu

My teenaged son had been the undefeated champion in the 100 metre dash for the last three years. Every year, after the sports day finale, when we went to collect him from the stands, his chest covered in gold and silver medals, it was evident that the medal that brought him the most satisfaction was the dash.

On the D-Day this year, instead of the sports staff, the school had engaged professionals to identify the winners in each race. They stood confused, being nudged by the students holding the finishing tape, the official photographers, and eager parents being shooed away by stern school marms.

Our son ran a magnificent race in the outermost lane. We watched him take the lead and maintain it to the finish. As we waited for him to take the victory stand along came the googly. We watched in surprise and dismay as the so-called professionals completely ignored him and put him nowhere among the top three. This was not a case of “participating and losing” but of “winning and losing”. Whatever happened, was all we could ask in shocked dismay.

While we as parents were outraged what of the child who had run and won? The school staff, sensing the little commotion, stepped in with its damage control. “We shall look into it”. “Rest assured, we shall see that justice is done”. While our senses rankled at the injustice done, what of the young man-child?

School rules did not permit parents to have any contact with the child until after the function. But his teachers later told us he cried. For a teenager there is nothing more sissy than tears. He would rather be caught with his pants down, than with tears in his eyes.

Feeling let down, vulnerable, and despondent, our son wept like a baby. His slight, weary face awash with saline, his bewhiskered teenaged cheeks furrowed with fat tears. It was a measure of his dejection and disappointment that he succumbed to the tears he so despised and did not run the next event.

I remember responding to a senior officer’s diktat with a “…but that’s not fair” remark, only to be snubbed with the cynical response of, “…it’s an unfair world, and I am surprised that you have come this far without realising it”.

This was how my husband responded as did indeed some of the teachers there: No platitudes, the world is a harsh, unfair place and the sooner our children learn this, the better for them.

With all of them, I beg to disagree. Childhood and innocence deserve to be cherished. Our children need to be nurtured in an atmosphere where righteousness, fairplay and integrity rule their little worlds, so that they grow up believing that justice and truth always prevail and that wrongs will be righted.

Only then will they emerge strong, brave and armed to face the onslaughts of unfair reality. Only then will they be audacious and indeed courageous enough to pick up the gauntlet to constantly challenge and fashion a better reality.

To allow the cynicism of an unfair world to scar their childhood, is to crush their idealism in the bud and train them to submit to the status quo and the dumb charades that we as adults acquiesce in.