Children of a scary god

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I dislike children. And this is because of two reasons. One, because when those pesky little things are around no one pays me any attention which makes me jealous. And second, because they remind me of my age. The moment I see a kid comes the wake-up call that I have advanced in years, that I am an adult.

Often I wonder why there is this mistaken notion that children are innocent and pure. Actually they are just ignorant of reality. If at all they are “innocent” — read clueless — it is out of default, and not by way of virtue.
Adults are far more innocent. They can be easily persuaded to believe in the rule of the majority. Religion, social standards, education and the media control their thinking. Individualistic thought is instantly dismissed either as eccentric or rebellious.
Kids scare me. Have you ever noticed the mean glee in their eyes when they squash insects? I am also shocked by the raw violence they indulge in over trivial matters. It is more difficult to separate two kids who are scratching, pulling hair and rolling over each other than it is to call an end to a fist bout between adults. Kids seem to have an underworld of their own except that they don’t even have elementary rules of honour.
I am very wary of kids because they manipulate their elders not by using logic. To get their way, they raise a hue and cry, and are the epitome of stubbornness. When every tactic fails, they pretend to get unwell. If they are not pampered, they sulk, they take great pleasure in making their parents feel guilty.
And the words they use can be embarrassing. Which is why I asked my daughter never to call me “father” or “dad”. She responded, “Then what should I call you?” I said, “Why don’t you call me Ramu?” Thankfully she agreed, and I like it that way. Somewhere down the line, I think so does she.
The most dangerous kid I have ever met was when my sister got married in Hyderabad. The boy was her sister-in-law’s son. At a family meet he kept poking me hard with a broken toy. His mother thought it was very cute and looked at him fondly as he continued to assault me. I told him to stop and that too sweetly. The monster continued. I pinched him so hard and proper in front of everone that he started howling. No kidding, that has been one of the biggest and most instructive victories of my life. When someone doesn’t listen to reason, I answer back tit for tat.
Perhaps my aversion to kids is also somewhere pschologically responsible for my obsession for making horror films in which kids and ghosts — both equally scary — are very closely connected as in Raat and Vaastushaastra. Boo.

PS: I hope psychiatrists don’t come running after me after reading this piece. Hey docs, I’m just kidding... or maybe I’m not.