My daughter loves story books. Everyday I read her a story book before she goes to bed. She has a huge pile of children’s magazines that we subscribe and she picks one at random and I have to read it cover to cover – that’s the procedure.
Few days back I was reading a book for her. There was a poem which I read out. The poem was so meaningless and when I finished, I couldn’t make head or tale of it. What was he trying to convey? It was really that stupid.
So I ask my daughter-‘ Did you like it?’
‘Great’ she says
‘What did you understand?’
She just gave me a grin and said ‘next one’
In a flash, I understood what was happening. For her a poem meant the pictures, colors, rhythm, rhyming and the fact that I was reading it to her. Whether it made sense or not, whether it conveyed something or not – all that was secondary. For her the whole experience is what mattered. And she never even felt the need to explain it.
And here was I, the stupid logical brainer, caught up with the meaning of the poem…And I just missed the whole thing.
As I went to bed with a disturbed mind, I was thinking of the time when I was a kid and my father used to read story books for me. I would have enjoyed it the way my daughter does now. And what has it taken for me to get this stage where I am stuck with judging and conceptualizing everything around.