Chapter One : Life Skills

“Bhaiyya, what are Life skills?”

No question has an easy response when put across by a kid, especially a kid like Akram - brimming with intuitive alertness, contemplative curiosity. He had a nonchalant flair for turning the mundane into something existential.  So it was with a sense of anticipation that I agreed to talk to Akram post school.

Akram isn’t like any other kid. Truth be told, Any kid isn’t like any other kid. However, one peculiarly plain commonality is their ignorance of their own potential and the disregard with which we treat them. Have you ever tried treating a kid as an adult? I’ve found this exercise highly amusing! They’ve always astonished me with their ability to pay attention in a conversation, a highly improbable situation while dealing with adults - no more than the first few words have been spoken, an adult's mind is already working with its entire cutlery to serve a pre-cooked response and all your subsequent sentences get drowned. With kids, it is as though they are making a genuine attempt at complete comprehension before responding. As a civilization, we successfully rob them of this skill as they grow up. An adult I feel is but a complicated child.

 “Skills that help you survive. Why do you ask?” I respond.

“This brochure I got on my doorstep talks about an afterschool programme to promote life skills in students. I was just curious to know what they were.”

“Can I have a look at it?” I extend my arms towards Akram. He hands it over to me, apprehensively. His face shows signs of imploding questions. I let him be. Could he sense that my fever for answering far exceeds his desire for answers?

Another comes shooting down his throat before he could stop himself.

“Is it like breathing?”

“Yes and No” I say, pretending to absorb every bit of information supplied by the brochure.

“Bhaiyya, are you telling me that breathing is not a life skill? Or that they are not going to teach breathing?” 

Unable to resist any longer the urge to impart –seemingly complete to one’s own mind – knowledge on a mind that is highly impressionable, ready to accept, “Yes, breathing is a life skill, if you want to call it that. It is a fundamental one, for which you have been trained for your entire life. It’s a skill you already possess in ample amounts. But what our friends in the brochure propose are a different set of breathing skills, the kind which will help you survive outside.”

“When you exit these walls, you will enter a world congested by the complexity of thoughts that will choke you, suffocate you by sheer volume and our friends in the brochure argue that their skills will help you breathe life into your mind, not your lungs. And to answer your question, yes they are going to teach you a different mechanism of breathing - one that wasn’t fundamental to begin with, but has become now!”

As it so happens with adults, seldom does your mind stay on a single train of thought. It has split into multiple tracks and each pursues its own course of highlands and tunnels, of bridges and plains!

“Should I enrol? It seems very important from what you said”

 “Oh, is it?”

I show a hint of annoyance as I try to track back to the source of my thoughts. In my mind, It was very clear where I stood on Life Skills.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for you. You seem to me to be capable of breathing really well – both physical and otherwise” I say and drift into blank space again.

“How do you know?”

Patience has never been my virtue. Kids, like most adults refuse to acknowledge the end of a conversation. I try to hide my disregard, unsuccessfully. Unlike adults, Kids are more attached to their surroundings and can sense the change.

Cries of hypocrisy resound in my head. You invite the conversation, you encourage an inquiring line of thought and you kill it when it doesn’t suit your mood. Why does everything have to be around the “you” – one question rises to the surface, quickly drowned by a more favourable “Why shouldn’t it be?” A quick poll inside the head laps up the second response and a jubilant mood within, stinking of arrogance puts on a mask of authority and I am ready to strike down any further scruples.

“Bhaiyya, How do you know?” repeats akram, alarmed by the lack of response.

I realise that while I was engaged within, my blank face must have raised more concerns in Akram. I wish I could answer in a manner that would put to rest all his suspicions. It is baffling when you know you are right and yet are devoid of words.

“I just know it from our interactions! I wish I could offer you a more satisfactory response.” The dismissive tone  is not missed by Akram. He starts packing his bag, disappointment evident on his face. He mumbles inaudible thanks as he walks along the corridor towards the gate.

He might well have accepted defeat today but I’m sure he will come back with his artillery of questions and armour of innocence the next day. As I drift back to the fragments inside my head, I vow to provide better answers the next day. Akram, like all kids, do not know what it is like to be a grown up but all of us have been children once and ominously ignore it in our interactions with them. I make a mental note to be a better student the next day!