My daughter has founded a start-up company, a platform for emotional well-being through peer-led meaningful connections. It is important to create spaces where people can slow down and speak honestly without the pressure of performance. We embark upon this journey from the time we are born. We learn to smile and gurgle in our cradle because it makes others happy. In adolescence, we seek approval from our friends and teachers.
As mature adults, we look for appreciation from peers, spouse, family, society — almost everyone. In our twilight years, we look for validation from our children.I am consulting an ophthalmologist for a recently developed squint in one eye. Disturbed, I pestered her with questions. With a twinkle in her eyes, she told me that the only two women whose concerns should matter to me now are she and my wife. She had made a point: I did not need to conform to physical attributes set by others. My wife, however, may disagree.She does not trust my sartorial sense. She selects matching trousers and shirts for me regardless of whether I am stepping out alone or with her. I can understand her apprehension if we are visiting a relative or a friend, for my sloppy appearance could be seen as a commentary on her sense of style. Her sensitivity on the subject is beyond me when we are visiting the mall, where we are unlikely to encounter acquaintances, or if I am meeting people she neither knows nor is likely to know in future.
Their opinions, expressed behind my back, would not reach her ears. Even my two daughters, I am afraid, pick on me. They are sticklers for perfect etiquette. One afternoon, while out for lunch with the family, I tried catching the waiter’s eye with a simple “Hello.” The girls were horrified. I should have used the accepted phrase, “Excuse me!” I could not understand their embarrassment. We rarely return to the same restaurant. The waiter, if still there months later, is unlikely to remember us. Nor would his service be less attentive because of my not-so-impeccable manners. This urge for approval from others extends even into old age, when it should not matter. My ninety-five-year-old father gets in a tizzy when an acquaintance comes to visit. He nervously paces the apartment, checking if the air conditioners work, the cutlery is right, the napkins in place. In our younger days, we admired his refined language and manners. Now, I am disappointed by his use of vernacular swear words.
At a family function, my father was annoyed that I remained closeted in a room for much of the evening to attend a stormy online meeting of the society’s governing body. He worried about the reaction of another guest, my close friend and now also a relative. We are social beings. We need to feel we belong — to a family, a community, or a piece of land. Yet our conditioning makes us crave acceptance.
We conform to attributes that may be irrelevant or beyond our control. These superficial factors are set by parents, elders, peers, or society at large. We are unhappy if we have less money than our neighbour. We teach children the importance of complexion, height, or weight. We insist they must top examinations. Such conflicts between imposed norms and reality create stressed, unhappy individuals. We must impart to children the wisdom to discriminate judiciously between a longing to belong and an urge to be accepted.
The author is an electrical engineer with the Indian Railways and conducts classes in creative