Tare Zameen Par (TZP) by Aamir Khan has been applauded a lot by the media, public, critics and the film industry. And Dyslexia is the in-word today.
 
I often hear from the snooty mouths of my colleagues these days that how they don’t pressurize their kids to excel. And I remember their boastings not long back ago about how they coaxed and got after the lives of their kids to top in their classes.
 
How hollow it seems that you need a melodramatic movie to recognize the potential or the lack of it, of your child.
 
My younger son brought the CD of TZP last week for viewing. I looked at my elder son through the corners of my eyes. He was visibly shaken. “It is an award winning movie Mum” announced the younger.

There was a lump in my throat as I saw a moist film in the eyes of the elder. He got up from the sofa and was about to leave when I took the CD from my younger. “Great, but we will see it some other time.” There was relief in the eyes of the elder as the younger pouted and left the room.
 
Yes, my elder son is dyslexic.
 
Later as we sat together watching TV, the elder one said, “I used to cry in the school bathroom when the teachers admonished me in front of the whole class and everybody laughed at my mistakes.” I placed my hand on his arm lovingly but he pulled his arm away. “Everybody called me a failure, even my own younger brother would say so...”
I kept quiet as he vented out his pent up emotions.

“Nobody thought I could pass my fourth standard and study further but look I am a graduate in Mass Communications who has topped the class of normals!” He continued with pride but tears flowed incessantly from his eyes as he remembered his struggle with studies.
I smiled through my tears and said, “You are a very brave boy!” and put my arm around his shoulders. We sat quietly for long minutes in total silence of empathy.
To lighten the emotionally heavy air in the room, I laughed, “But you really were very stubborn, good at orals but very reluctant to write!” He laughed aloud thankfully and added, “Yes only Nanu Papa (my Dad) was able to make me write.”
 
It reminded me of my Dad’s diary entry when he was a child, “He is a bright boy, intelligent and active but a shirker. But I know how to take the horse to the river and make it drink water. He cannot escape me! ”
 
Then I painfully remembered the time of his Upper Kindergarten days when his teacher had called me to meet her. She came out of the class and dropped the bomb, “Dr. Sahib, your son is a dull child ...” I was shattered by the impact of her insensitive words. My head swayed and I took the support of the wall to steady myself. I was infuriated once the words sank in. I could have shot her dead there and then, had I the license to kill. How could she say so about my lovely and intelligent child who could memorize poems and tables with such ease?

“He is so dull that he cannot differentiate between p and q, between d and b and often write 12 as 21, what to do?” I was too numb to respond. I felt the whole universe against me and my son. I was devastated beyond words and carried myself home with great difficulty as my limbs were too heavy to obey me. Once home, I cried my heart out realizing what the teacher had said.

My husband was of little help and I dared not tell my Dad who was a PhD and a Principal and who adored my son and dreamt of making him a surgeon. I never felt so lonely. I visited psychologists, teachers and astrologers. Nobody had a cue to his academic problems.

The day Dad came to know about this, he was upset beyond words. He was quiet for many days. My son was too young to comprehend what we were going through. But my dad being a dedicated teacher at heart took the challenge to teach him. Every day was a constant struggle with words and figures for him, dad and me.
 
With little successes, constant failures but lots of perseverance on his and our part, we inched on. Every little battle won like a correctly spelt writing, correct tables and sums were occasions for celebrations. We had lowered our parameter of success so there were fewer disappointments. I took my son as a special child with special needs and ignored when people boasted of the achievements of their wards in front of me. I would just smile and be grateful to God for what I had and not lament for what it should be..

I meanwhile read a lot about his learning disability and searched the net and found that he was suffering from dyslexia. A problem not recognized by schools and hence no special teaching methods.
 
Gradually he found confidence to conquer his little obstacles. I focused on his talent. He was good at cooking food and stories, he mimicked people well, he could dance, sing, play harmonica and guitar and most importantly he was humane and loving.

So I wasn’t disheartened when on insistence of my dad he appeared for his 10+2 Medical stream exams and fell short of 50% marks.

“Good I did not become a doctor mum, or I would have given wrong dosage to the patient, 025 gm instead of 250mg...” He remarked glumly but we both laughed at the prospect. “God has chosen you for a different profession my dearest” I comforted him.
 
Next day, I got him enrolled in the college in Mass Communication stream. Dad wasn’t happy. But my son was happy in his new college. I made him compete for the singing talent hunt. Reading lyrics was tough for him so I would read and he would rehearse.
He got selected for the college music team out of hundreds of students. He beamed confidence and participated in youth festivals, won prizes and made meaningful documentaries which were appreciated a lot. He studied too under the guidance of my dad and got first division every year.

Last year he topped his class in his BA final year. Dad was overjoyed on reading the result on the net. Tears flowed down his eyes. We both were crying too. Dad stood up and hugged my son and called me in his hug too.
He said in his choking voice, “With the kind grace of Lord Shiva, Mission Accomplished.”
We all celebrated the occasion.
 
Who wants to see the movie Tare Zameen Par when I have my own treasure of bitter, sweet and sour memories of his childhood?
 
He wants to be a film director and a singing actor.
I know he will be one day.
He is MY TARA ZAMEEN PAR.
God bless him.