Witerati | Surviving millennial children

Children’s Day is now less about community Chacha Nehru-centric revelry and more about disconnected and disinterested childhood

Children’s Day will never be the same. Simply because childhood is no longer the same.

Blame it on millennial kids being born as fully loaded digital natives. Wired to the world perhaps with not a milk tooth but bluetooth even before they burp. (Representative Image/Getty Images)

Can’t blame it on Trump or Tharoor, as most ills, thrills or spills are wont to be blamed upon.

Gone are the days when children eagerly awaited community celebrations or Chacha Nehru-centric tales that defined November 14th.

Children’s Day will never be as simple and innocent. Simply because childhood is no longer as simple or innocent as that of yore.

Blame it on millennial kids being born as fully loaded digital natives. Wired to the world perhaps with not a milk tooth but bluetooth even before they burp. Born digital natives, with wireless contraptions clothing their cochlear compartments, with corneas affixed to smartphone screens that are possibly the only lens through which they view life or live life.

Scarcely space there for Chacha Nehru or Children’s Day sentimentality.

There was a time when our childhood excitedly awaited Children’s Day, as much for the gaily caparisoned classrooms and gooey goodies that our otherwise austere convent nuns treated us to, as also for the trip to the movie theatre or the theatrics the tutors themselves staged to entertain the taught.

For the millennial kids, no nun. Only an attitude of second to none.

In a post-pandemic world, forget theatre, all that virtual classrooms may be staging is a theatre of the absurd. The taught twiddling on touchscreens for an unofficial e-games period, boasting a syllabus of Ludo King or Rummy, whilst the official tutorials roll on, only to pop up their heads into the virtual grid every now and then, to reassure the tutors that millennial childhood is all ears. If not all eyes.

Gone is the charm of waiting all agog on Children’s Day for tutors to dish out entertainment to the taught.

Instead, the entertainment now already runs right under the e-nose of the tutors. Parallel entertainment peculiar to Pandemic’s virtual classrooms.

A recent chat may contain clues to the deglamorisation and downgrading of Children’s Day revelry.

“What would you like for Children’s Day?”

This poser was tossed at one’s offspring by a bosom overflowing with instincts of mothering. Rather, smothering.

“Children’s Day?”

“You know it commemorates Chacha Nehru’s birthday?

“Chacha?”

The offspring’s contorted countenance conveyed it all.

“On Children’s Day, our teachers or parents treated us to chocolates, chikkis or candy floss,” pre-historic Motherhood dished out nostalgia.

“Hmm, so why don’t you treat me to ‘death by chocolate’ Belgian waffle cake?”

“Btw, Candy, who?”

‘Death’ of an era of Childhood.

Move over, Chacha Nehru or Chacha Chaudhary.

Enter, Candy Crush Soda Saga.

Motherhood bestirred to oblige millennial childhood.

“Sure sweetheart, let me call the confectionery ... “

“Better still, gimme your card and lemme order on Swiggy.”

That one’s progeny had finally ordered some treat, ostensibly as a run-up to Children’s Day, was borne upon one the moment the smartphone squiggled with a notification.

“Mom, you must have got an OTP,” the offspring peeped out of the door, only to retreat and shut the room again.

Motherhood squirmed at the new face of disconnected childhood or teenagehood. That indeed is the one defining thing perhaps for which Millennial Childhood peeps out of the digital existence to talk or connect to parenthood.

OTP Childhood.

Or, Oblivious To Past Childhood.

chetnakeer@yahoo.com