The story of the lost phone

Motherhood is full of stories. Mine is too. I have lots of stories. Today, I remembered one very strongly.

This was then when my son was 7 years old and was in Primary school. He needed to travel by train for quite a long distance for his age. For the first few months, I accompanied him, but later due to my work, it was not possible for me to pick him from the school every day. We decided to buy one phone for him so that I can guide him while traveling alone. He was very happy that he was going to get a phone and he is finally a big boy. There was a lot of discussion about what type of phone should be given to the school-going kid. His expectation was to buy a new trendy kids phone, but finally, a compromise was struck between us and we agreed to buy a phone with a bigger screen and buttons.

He was very happy to carry the phone that day to school. In school, it was a very exciting day. He showed his new phone everyone and was playing with it all the time. That day, I guided him on how to come alone and the phone helped us a lot. Next day, I kept calling him to navigate him during his return journey, but he didn’t pick up. I was quite worried and scared too. I decided to wait on the destination train station. When he reached and got down from the train, I saw his eyes filled with tears and he came running to me. Looking at his face, I took him in arms. He broke into tears and said, "Mamma, I lost my phone. I don’t remember where it is. It was with me until I left school." I was sure that the phone fell down somewhere on the way. That evening, he could not sleep or eat well. He was upset with what happened. Moreover, the guilt of losing a phone made him restless. I somehow convinced him that it's not his fault, it can happen to anyone and he should take care of his things onwards. But I knew his nature; he was not going to forgive himself for his mistake.

Next day he went to school without the phone. He told the sad story about his lost phone to everyone. That day, I picked him up from school. All the way, I could observe his restlessness and was thinking about how to make him smile again and that’s when my mobile rang. It was an unknown caller. I answered the call. The caller said, "We are calling from Police station" Hearing from Police, I got very scared. But I gathered some courage and answered, "Hello!" Police replied, "Some stranger has handed over a small phone yesterday that he found it on the train station. On this phone, we could find only one contact in the contact list - 'Mommy', so we would like to know, are you the same mommy from the contact list?" As my son was listening to this conversation, his eyes sparkled with the joy and he shouted, "Yes, Yes it's my phone. She is my Mommy" That moment later, his smile was back and he started jumping. I was so happy not for getting the phone back but to see the return of joy and sparkle in his eyes.

By

Anagha Mahajan

Stuttgart, Germany

Raising Children: A Cultural Conundrum

I was born in and raised as an Indian and the values ingrained in those early years have retained in my sub-conscience. It affects every decision I make and how I present myself to the rest of the world. I grew up in a singular cultural environment – a unicultural upbringing, very sure of what culture meant to me. I moved to England to study when I was rather young, just out of my teens. A lot of my experiences of living independently and learning about being a “grown-up” happened as I integrated into the British conscience, giving me a brand new outlook on what I considered “my culture”. I lived, worked and raised my family there for over a decade. After moving to Germany a few months ago, I have come across a whole new European way of living and I am still learning the ways of the land, definitely tending towards a multicultural lifestyle.

Being a mother to a preschooler, I often struggle to make cultural choices for my child. Although I identify myself as an Indian, I struggle to identify my child as one. Who, then, is this little person growing up to be? AND what exactly does it mean to be an Indian? Understanding the cultural essence or celebrating in the rich traditions of India, both or something entirely different?

In the diverse world of Today, I have multiple choices and several more questions about it too. My child can be Indian and participate in the culture and tradition, be British and value articulation and charity, and be German and value reliability and precision; all at the same time. Limiting to one nationality to define an entire personality often makes for narrow choices. Our children, especially those of immigrant parentage are in a position of choosing the traditions and values of any and all countries that they live in and experience –to raise a child as an Indian in Germany, would be doing great injustice to what European culture has to offer. And to raise a German child in an ideologically Indian family is to alienate them from the vast experiences and values that are our heritage.

OR are we raising children to have a confused upbringing by not choosing one or the other and giving them open access to everything? In the US and UK generations of ABCD/BBCDs (American or British Born Confused Desis) were criticized for this very reason. All they were trying to do is fit in within the diversity – in a multicultural growth experience. Is it really important to show our children that they belong to a distinct group and that these differences should somehow be embraced and celebrated?

How do you strike the right balance? Is multiculturalism really good for our children? Should we be focusing instead on the similarities within these varied cultures; creating a universal culture, one that does not point out differences, instead celebrates the best of all as one? All the cultures have inherent values that tend to be similar – compassion and kindness to your fellow beings, generosity and charity, consideration and integrity and so many more. As a young mum, I am still questioning my choices and if I should be the one making them. At the moment though, I find myself tending towards wishing a world of universally cultured little people. What do you think? 

By

Dr. Pooja Joshi

Heidelberg, Germany