Racing against the sun

SUDHANSHU RANADE

There is a great deal of punch to many fairy tales; lulling your sensibilities, they can send you for quite a toss. Some of them put across their point so silently that most people don't even notice that it has been made. The story of the 13th fairy at Sleeping Beauty's birthday party for instance; the one who cursed her, saying the girl would die when a needle pricked her. There were only 12 plates, it seems, so the 13th fairy had not been invited. It is amazing how many people come away from this story with the message that 13 is an unlucky number!

Then there are the stories which deliver one message quite clearly; while hiding the other, real, message, saving it for those who take the trouble of looking to see what lies beneath the cover. The story about Birbal missing out on the king's free lunch, for instance; because, having been turned away at the gate for not being dressed properly, he sent along his best clothes instead. Moral of the story: don't judge a book by its cover? Maybe. But if, following this advice, you look beyond the cover, you will notice that the message is really that judging a book by its cover is exactly what most people do : so you better make sure that you are well covered, at all times.

Another sweet little story is about the race between the hare and the tortoise. Most of the brightest boys and girls I have known are all for the hare; they treat plodders with contempt. Often, looking at the plodders, I think they are right. Even the plodders who are not plodding simply to give themselves an excuse to escape into themselves, even plodders who have a definite goal in mind, spend far too much of their time constructing airplanes just for the purpose of crossing the road. Like that story about the sage who, after years of penance, finally found a way to walk across water. What was the point, the hare teased him when, for a few annas, he could have got himself rowed across in a boat?

But there are plodders and plodders. The smarter ones (and, believe me, a surprising number of plodders are, in fact, quite smart) plod not because they don't know how to move faster; but because they have realised that, in the long run, they cannot rely on just their wits. Many hares do not realise this until much later. They run a bit of the way, snooze for a while and traipse over the rest; everything is fine until, one fine day, they find the tortoise speeding past in his Cadillac. In this connection, I don't know if you have noticed the way that, though the sun moves so very slowly that it scarcely seems to be moving at all, it is simply impossible for you to overtake it, no matter how hard you race.

But parents are of no help in helping you to find their way. If truth be told, most of them haven't a clue about how to get from place A to place B. Either they are the grumpy, grouchy sort; always at you for watching too much TV (specially when they want you to move over because they themselves want to watch), always at you to do something with your life, make something of yourself, or going on and on about "how easy kids have it these days, how hard it was for us when we were kids." Or they are the mushy sort; ever ready with smiles and encouragement. The first are a bore; I grant you that. But it is the second type that you really need to beware of. Far too many mothers, and an amazing number of fathers, have made it a habit of, so to speak, singing their children to sleep; with soothing songs like "rock a bye baby, on the tree top". For those who have forgotten, the lullaby has a very tragic ending : "when the wind blows the cradle will rock, and down will come cradle and baby and all". The best one can hope for is that baby is fast asleep by the time that happens; having been lulled quite out of his wits.

A few quick points, if you are the sort who can "keep your head while all about you are losing theirs," then I will leave you to journey on your own into the new century; your century. First, water gushing into a half full glass can leave it quite empty. Second, Sherlock Holmes (sp?) words the night after the murder: I draw your attention to the curious incident of the dog at night. But the dog did nothing that night, his audience protested. That, Holmes said, was the curious incident. Third : she looked, he didn't; she is, he isn't. Finally, no matter how heavy wisdom sits on your shoulders, you, must, please, wear your learning very lightly. Like the Emperor's new clothes.

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