When I was a young (and that was ages and ages back), something I often heard elders (including my parents) say was this: “Today’s children know nothing about our great leaders and freedom fighters. They don’t even know the names of their own grandparents! Ask them about some movie star and they’ll not only know their name and star sign, but all of their and history as well!”

Overhearing this as an eleven or twelve year old, it annoyed me no end. The injustice of it made me bristle with rightful indignation. For one, I knew the names of both my paternal and maternal grandparents, even the great grandparents. I knew for a fact that my cousins did too. And I was also fairly sure most of my friends in school did too about theirs.

When I am pissed off about something, what I generally do is look for answers, the RIGHT answers that will/should shut up those making atrocious statements. True, these were adults and there was nothing I could do about it. But what if one day it was thrown at me directly? I should have my answer ready. I needed a comeback that would stop them short, a retort that was indisputable.

My usual modes operandi on such circumstances was (still is) to brood over things darkly. I’d go over why I was angry. Was it justifiable? If so, how? I would try to home in on what exactly was wrong in what the others said, and how it could be countered in a fair and just way. And just like that, I’d have my answer ready.

When I write it down like this, the process of my thinking looks too complicated (Or sophisticated?) for a child of eleven. But then this is an adult looking back and writing about the thought process. In reality, it wasn’t a conscious step-by-step effort at all. It was brooding, plain and simple.

Anyway…

Like I said, thinking (and analysing) till I found a convincing answer was/is my forte. And I got one too, to what the elders said so disdainfully about children.

“And whose fault is it that your children do not know their grandparents’ name? None other than you, the parents!”

But of course.

In case anyone asked, I was ready with the explanation too. No children are ever born with family history embedded in their tiny heads. They learn all of it AFTER being born, FROM their parents. Yes, the same parents who were busy pompously criticising their own offspring (and children in general), for not knowing something they didn’t ever bother talking to them about.

Who stopped the parents from sharing anecdotes from their parents’ and grandparents’ lives and keeping their memories alive? Obviously not the children. So why blame them? As for the movie stars the elders blamed for capturing the imagination of children, their posters were all over the place. So how could you expect children to not know about them? Movies were the only entertainment those days. So is it any wonder that children were more familiar with them?

This was the gist of my argument.

Being a kid, I was not expected to open my mouth and give out gyan to those “who have lived more years” than me. Respect those days was (and mostly still) demanded, rarely earned.

In spite..

I am not insinuating that parents in general didn’t want to, or that they neglected their duties on purpose. Mine thankfully, did speak of their own parents and grand parents, and so I knew quite a lot about them. Speaking of others, perhaps they somehow couldn’t find the time or the energy. Quite understandable. I sympathise with them too. All I ask in return from all parents, including myself, is to acknowledge their fallibility. Scratch that. I don’t even ask that. Only this: Just don’t play the blame game.

Sadly enough, it still goes on. Conversations beginning with ‘Today’s children….’ is too common. I wonder if people have ever paused to ask themselves what they are even talking about when they criticise the generation they helped shape. Who the heck is responsible for its ignorance other than you yourself, AT LEAST PARTIALLY?

Don’t blame the young for what you have forgotten/neglected to write on the clean slates.

©️ Shail Mohan 2025