I know a lot of judgemental moms. And most moms that I am introduced to immediately categorize me as the “tiger mom.” They think of me as a mom who pushes her son so much that the poor thing ends up having no life at all. Every time people get to know that my child trains for a sport for 7 hours a day, they pity my son and judge me as the worst mom ever.
I have started ignoring the implications hidden in their tones when they say “बापरे किती दमत असेल ना तो. त्याला दिवसभर बांधल्या सारखेच होत असेल - नाही का ग ?" The “नाही का ग?” is meant to show me a mirror of my heartlessness.
I can take these remarks casually because I take one look at my son and see how happy he is. Others see a child who is never home. I see a child who gets to live his passion. I get to see a child who is lucky to recognize his passion so early on in his life. I get to see a child who wants to be in the gym even on holidays. I get to see a child who thinks very less of missing a few birthday parties for his sport – a child who is ready to go to any length to reach his gym on time. I get to see his bliss when he is on the floor, or parallels, or rings, or horizontals, or the vault – egged on by his teammates, eager to perform for his coach. I get to see a child who gets teary-eyed when all the hard hours pay off, and he wins the gold.
That child is precious. I will not let the judgment around us get to the child. He is living his dream. A dream that the world knows nothing about.