When I was a kid, I was notoriously known for my stubbornness. My stubbornness to not eat, to not sleep and to pick up trash from the streets. I had a thing for all things shiny on the roads. Golden cigarette packets, silver tobacco packets, broken pieces of coloured plastic and for other lustrous things my hands reached out hungrily. I would curl them in my little fingers, away from my mom's angry reach and silently tuck them into my skirt or pant pockets when my mom looked away. At other times, I was not so lucky and my mother would drag me to get me away from the roadside trash that for me were my little treasures.
For being treated so badly on the roads for everyone to see, I put up a brave fight, trying to run away from my mom's stronghold and in the process ended up scratching and beating her with my tiny hands. My little mind didn't comprehend why my mother won't let me pick those things up and hence I protested with all my might. My mother suffered a few tiny slaps on her legs and when she had me securely up on her waist, her hair got pulled and bare shoulders and neck were recipients of my scratches. My hands were tiny but my nails were quite sharp.
Reaching home, my mom upon surveying damage to herself and giving me another hearing, droned about my bad behaviour to my dad and granny. My dad was the other poor victim of my tiny hands and sharp nails. Though they were cut regularly, even my blunt nails did more harm and served as my weapons against the injustice the elders meted out to me. My dad suffered more than my mother. He always wore a vest in the home and every time I had been refused an expensive chocolate, toy and dress outside, I would come back home, remember the refusal and pinch and scratch on all his bare hands and neck. My dad suffered red scars and everybody pitied him and reprimanded me for the things I did. One of the things they said to me was "Say sorry !".
I could never bear to hear those two abominable words and they enraged me more than the refusal of chocolates, toys and shiny trash. My granny would coax me to ask forgiveness to my mom and dad and would try to make me say sorry. I wouldn't budge. Despite her threats with a rolling pin or a big stone, the word 'sorry' would never come out of me. My tiny mind had realised that 'sorry' was the wrong thing to say especially when I had been refused things and maltreated. My stubbornness to not say the word was one of the highlights of my childhood.
Fast-forward to twenty years later and I am a quite a sensible young woman (or so I think) who knows exactly when to say her sorry's and accept her mistakes. Growing up, I gave up on my stubbornness and learnt to say a lot of 'Thank you's' and 'Sorry's' and sometimes a lot more than necessary and was asked to shut up and not be so formal. My episodes of not saying sorry are often contrasted with how I am now and my family heartily laughs at my childhood notoriety.
Even though I am good mannered now, my family will agree that I am very much so only to the outside world. I have my temper and my family often is victim to its flares. This has earned me the description of 'Mouse outside, lion inside'. Every time my temper goes out of control, I realise my mistake after some time of its subsiding. And when I see my mistake in a clear way, I go and apologise and say my 'sorry'. I say it and truly mean it.
Nobody is safe from making mistakes. We, after all, are human beings and fallible. We will have our weak moments and our tongues will lash out unkind things or our actions will do more harm. But I think that when the unpleasant moments pass, we need to have a deep look at the events, review them, put ourselves in the other person's/peoples shoes and see clearly for ourselves. We need to keep aside our sense of ego. It is a potently damaging thing.
When we put aside our pride, only then will we even have a chance at realising our mistakes. What seems a mistake to others, might not be seeming so to you and hence the conflict. To get around it, we need to leave the place of prejudice in our mind, think from the other person's perspective and know the wrong from the right. A dear friend once told me that relationships are too precious to be damaged by an enraged mind and saying 'sorry' and asking for forgiveness and meaning it can make a whole lot of difference.
Sometimes, it's very disturbing to see elders not realise their mistakes and apologise to other elders that will make things better. Preaching to their children what they don't practise is very unsettling. I guess with elders, the ego has also gotten quite big and hence their inability to remove the heavy burden aside and see things in a different view.
I am not supporting the idea of apologising every time. Sometimes you can be right too in your stance and having a discussion and dialogue with the other person about the conflict will help in easing out differences. A review of things that are more important than petty fights like love and respect for one another will help settle matters faster. I am glad that I don't suffer much at the hands of a heavy ego. I can put mine aside most of the time and do without it as well.
Recently, my family has a new kid on the block and that's my niece. It's very amusing to see that she has a lot of traits common with me. Like me, she likes to be stubborn about eating and getting things done her way. She also has a flair for dancing, just like me. Another trait she shares with me, to everyone's surprise is her refusal to say sorry! Her notoriety and naughtiness are of the highest calibre the family has seen so far. I was quite naughty but my cousin brother was the epitome of extreme naughtiness. Sadly for my aunt and uncle, her stubbornness and naughtiness are two orders of magnitude greater than my cousin.
Not long ago she threw a big tantrum and my grandmother was a sorry victim of the plastic cup she threw out of her hands. It hit my grandmother by the side of her face. She was quick to run away from the scene. Once she was back we all coaxed her to apologise and say 'sorry'. She very much like me, didn't budge. Despite not saying sorry, she went up to her grandmother, saw the tiny scar her flying cup had left and pressed her small hands to it and caressed it. Apology, however, didnt escape her lips. I, however, got a way around to it. She loves saying her A, B, C, D's and spelling out the words and shouting them out to anybody who cares to hear like a-p-p-le, b-a-l-l, c-a-t etc. I crept to her, took her in my arms and ask her to spell out what I was saying. I spelled out S-O-R-R-Y and she followed and I revealed to her that the word she said was 'sorry'. She shouted the letters enthusiastically but after spelling out the word per se, she writhed from my grip, made a face and ran away.
For being treated so badly on the roads for everyone to see, I put up a brave fight, trying to run away from my mom's stronghold and in the process ended up scratching and beating her with my tiny hands. My little mind didn't comprehend why my mother won't let me pick those things up and hence I protested with all my might. My mother suffered a few tiny slaps on her legs and when she had me securely up on her waist, her hair got pulled and bare shoulders and neck were recipients of my scratches. My hands were tiny but my nails were quite sharp.
Reaching home, my mom upon surveying damage to herself and giving me another hearing, droned about my bad behaviour to my dad and granny. My dad was the other poor victim of my tiny hands and sharp nails. Though they were cut regularly, even my blunt nails did more harm and served as my weapons against the injustice the elders meted out to me. My dad suffered more than my mother. He always wore a vest in the home and every time I had been refused an expensive chocolate, toy and dress outside, I would come back home, remember the refusal and pinch and scratch on all his bare hands and neck. My dad suffered red scars and everybody pitied him and reprimanded me for the things I did. One of the things they said to me was "Say sorry !".
I could never bear to hear those two abominable words and they enraged me more than the refusal of chocolates, toys and shiny trash. My granny would coax me to ask forgiveness to my mom and dad and would try to make me say sorry. I wouldn't budge. Despite her threats with a rolling pin or a big stone, the word 'sorry' would never come out of me. My tiny mind had realised that 'sorry' was the wrong thing to say especially when I had been refused things and maltreated. My stubbornness to not say the word was one of the highlights of my childhood.
Fast-forward to twenty years later and I am a quite a sensible young woman (or so I think) who knows exactly when to say her sorry's and accept her mistakes. Growing up, I gave up on my stubbornness and learnt to say a lot of 'Thank you's' and 'Sorry's' and sometimes a lot more than necessary and was asked to shut up and not be so formal. My episodes of not saying sorry are often contrasted with how I am now and my family heartily laughs at my childhood notoriety.
Even though I am good mannered now, my family will agree that I am very much so only to the outside world. I have my temper and my family often is victim to its flares. This has earned me the description of 'Mouse outside, lion inside'. Every time my temper goes out of control, I realise my mistake after some time of its subsiding. And when I see my mistake in a clear way, I go and apologise and say my 'sorry'. I say it and truly mean it.
Nobody is safe from making mistakes. We, after all, are human beings and fallible. We will have our weak moments and our tongues will lash out unkind things or our actions will do more harm. But I think that when the unpleasant moments pass, we need to have a deep look at the events, review them, put ourselves in the other person's/peoples shoes and see clearly for ourselves. We need to keep aside our sense of ego. It is a potently damaging thing.
When we put aside our pride, only then will we even have a chance at realising our mistakes. What seems a mistake to others, might not be seeming so to you and hence the conflict. To get around it, we need to leave the place of prejudice in our mind, think from the other person's perspective and know the wrong from the right. A dear friend once told me that relationships are too precious to be damaged by an enraged mind and saying 'sorry' and asking for forgiveness and meaning it can make a whole lot of difference.
Sometimes, it's very disturbing to see elders not realise their mistakes and apologise to other elders that will make things better. Preaching to their children what they don't practise is very unsettling. I guess with elders, the ego has also gotten quite big and hence their inability to remove the heavy burden aside and see things in a different view.
I am not supporting the idea of apologising every time. Sometimes you can be right too in your stance and having a discussion and dialogue with the other person about the conflict will help in easing out differences. A review of things that are more important than petty fights like love and respect for one another will help settle matters faster. I am glad that I don't suffer much at the hands of a heavy ego. I can put mine aside most of the time and do without it as well.
Recently, my family has a new kid on the block and that's my niece. It's very amusing to see that she has a lot of traits common with me. Like me, she likes to be stubborn about eating and getting things done her way. She also has a flair for dancing, just like me. Another trait she shares with me, to everyone's surprise is her refusal to say sorry! Her notoriety and naughtiness are of the highest calibre the family has seen so far. I was quite naughty but my cousin brother was the epitome of extreme naughtiness. Sadly for my aunt and uncle, her stubbornness and naughtiness are two orders of magnitude greater than my cousin.
Not long ago she threw a big tantrum and my grandmother was a sorry victim of the plastic cup she threw out of her hands. It hit my grandmother by the side of her face. She was quick to run away from the scene. Once she was back we all coaxed her to apologise and say 'sorry'. She very much like me, didn't budge. Despite not saying sorry, she went up to her grandmother, saw the tiny scar her flying cup had left and pressed her small hands to it and caressed it. Apology, however, didnt escape her lips. I, however, got a way around to it. She loves saying her A, B, C, D's and spelling out the words and shouting them out to anybody who cares to hear like a-p-p-le, b-a-l-l, c-a-t etc. I crept to her, took her in my arms and ask her to spell out what I was saying. I spelled out S-O-R-R-Y and she followed and I revealed to her that the word she said was 'sorry'. She shouted the letters enthusiastically but after spelling out the word per se, she writhed from my grip, made a face and ran away.
