There are a few lessons in life which when we imbibe as a child we repeat to ourselves “I shall never do this when I become a Mom”. Surprisingly as years roll by and motherhood knocks at the door, that very lesson seems so right and that childhood sulk an immature lore. Such is the story of Ms. 2 B, Roll No. 7!

It was one of those days when my mother had not gone to pick her toddler up and the quivery lipped new to the school girl had concluded that her parents had deserted her! It took the teachers a lot of cajoling, a lot many coloured chalks and trips to the bathroom to make her understand the concept of ‘traffic jams” in the city of Calcutta. Fresh from a small town, to her roads meant unending stretches of tar, but she was smart and grasped quick. Back from her final rest room trip she saw her driver standing at the school gate, clutching her blue ID card. Tugging the Ma’am’s saree she lunged forward to the car. After ascertaining the identity she was packed off home.

She entered the house with a smile which turned to a huge grin just as she saw her father. Leaping up in his arms, an activity forever so cherished she announced that she was a big girl who had returned home ‘alone’. The father mocked as to how the teachers left his ‘little’ girl alone. Her eyes shone as she proudly announced how she had identified “driverji” in front of the teacher – that’s when the father put her down!

“He has a name. He is an uncle who you should respect. It’s his work just as it’s mine to goto office and yours to goto school. Either you go and say sorry or from now you are Ms. 2B, Roll No. 7!”

The little girl had sulked a lot that afternoon, after apologising and resolved that she is never going to say this to her kid when she becomes a Mom!

The little girl today is craving for her own little one, as she walks into an office where she greets everyone with a smile and makes sure she knows their names and if not has a ‘Bhaiya’ handy! Dignity of labour is one of the most valuable lessons my dad taught me that I’ll ensure doesn’t go with me to the grave, but lives on through my kids. But why this?

Long ago, I read a blog post where a child’s mistaken drawing was taken too seriously as her mom’s pole dancing profession affecting her psyche. It had irked me as to why should it be a concern as a profession, if the child was explained the proper and the dignified way of handling the same?

Yesterday on way from work, an ad billboard caught my eye. A vodka concern whose latest tag is “Be what you want to be’, spelled out an ad “Pole Dancer by the Night, Mom by the Day”. I was proud till I heard the girl beside me looking in the same direction and snickering. She expected me to join in, but then I was too proud of the ad maker to give her the dirty look!

Every profession can been seen from a sexual angle, couches exist everywhere does that mean that every act of sexuality even if its sensuous is leading to a perverse profession?

Wish could share that ad, but couldn’t find it on net!

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