I was 2.5 years old when my parents decided to put me in school. My father came up with a nice plan to make me comfortable with the idea of school. On a Sunday, he took me to the school and showed me the playground. I was amazed to see such a big playground! Pointing to a school van nearby, he said, “Tomorrow, a van like this will come and pick you up, and you will spend the entire day playing here. Then the van will drop you back at the same stop, and you’ll come home.”
The next day, the van came, picked me up, and I was excited to play. But to my surprise, they took me to a classroom instead and started teaching me ABCs and 123s. I was so disappointed. I asked my teacher what was happening because I was told I would play here. She replied, “Just wait for three more periods, and then you can play.”
I patiently waited, and finally, recess happened. The teacher took us to the playground. However, another shock awaited me—we were not allowed to play as we pleased. Elder students were there to “guide” us on how to play. These bigger kids were crazy! They made us form a train and told us to make “shuk-shuk” sounds. I was so mad! I didn’t want to play like that. I wanted to take a swing, but the swings were reserved for older kids—2nd class onwards.
I was furious with my dad. When I got home, I fought with my mother, complaining about how boring and terrible school was and how recess didn’t even make sense. I waited for my father to come home because I was ready to confront him. I was full-on dramatic: “You didn’t do nice! You lied to me!”
To my surprise, he smiled and said, “Oh, I got fooled too! During admission time, the school people told me there would be more time at the playground.”
I told him firmly that I wasn’t interested in going back to school and that they couldn’t make me go. The thing is, I’ve been dominating even before I could talk. If I’m mad, I’ll give an angry look, and I won’t go near or talk to the person I’m upset with. My parents and other elders were always careful not to piss me off.
My father then made a deal with me: if I agreed to go to school, my mom would take me to a playground called Shalimar Bagh near our house every day. He also told me that learning ABCs and 123s was very important and that I would enjoy it. He added that I could become a judge one day! My father always argued that I would make a very good advocate because nobody could win an argument with me.
I smile whenever I remember how my father handled me with so much love, though sometimes he did get angry at me. His way of “punishing” me was unique. If he wanted to teach me a lesson, he would buy Chatmolas and other treats, distribute them to all the other kids, and not give me any. That was super cruel punishment. He used jealousy to punish me.
