The Gift of Attention

The English language makes attention an exchange, or a transaction. It asks the giver to invest one’s attention or ‘pay’ (for) it. The question is what does one get in return of it?

What does attention look like?

🚨ATTENTION🚨- not the kind that screams for recognition, surveillance and scrutiny.

Instead, the more gentle ✨attention✨ that leans towards intentness, observation and mindfulness.

The English language makes attention an exchange, or a transaction. It asks the giver to invest one’s attention or ‘pay’ (for) it. The question is what does one get in return of it?

I’ve been contemplating this all this week. I’d like to focus on the softer exchange of attention, the kind that makes us look at relationships more closely and ‘attentively’. The question is, what do the giver and taker exchange when one is intentional, present and mindful of each other?

The answer is attention.

When a child joins a family, he / she screams for attention. For every need, want and desire, a baby has to cry and scream to be attended to. From food, to comfort, to warmth, love or safety, a child seeks attention in many ways. From a soiled nappy, to an empty tummy, a baby learns that it must demand attention to get it. Often, the one showering attention on an infant, baby or young child are the parents. After all, it is they who choose to bring the child into the world. As primary care givers, parents sign-up as attention givers by default. Next in line come the family, particularly the grandparents. More specifically grandparents who have the wealth of time, health and heart for attention.

The year Vihaan was born, Baba turned 60. In the last leg of his professional life, Baba was joyous about climbing the rung to a new relationship status. I knew he looked forward to his grandfatherly life, a new story that he would begin from scratch. For the first 5 years of his life with his grandson, I saw him invest his time and attention to Vihaan making sure his needs were taken of. Like the time when he travelled with his 4 month old grandson to Delhi, making sure he transitioned well into his life with his parents. As I watched my father carry Vihaan on his journey from Jamshedpur to Delhi after his birth, I realised he was preparing to leave a part of his heart with him forever. We were new parents. Young, inexperienced and conservative. He didn’t want to impose his decisions, his ability to buy his grandson what his parents won’t. It was also not about saving us money. Or showing his own. He didn’t doubt that we would prioritise our child. Instead, he chose to step in to show us how to pay attention.

Baba bought Vihaan his first pair of wheels, a pram to ensure he gets the best view of the world. “You cannot carry him always. He needs to feel free to look around,” he told me as I protested that we don’t need a pram yet.

Weeks before his first birthday, he insisted he buy a baby cot. We lived in a tiny house. Our bedroom barely had the room for us. I refused a cot again saying co-sleeping was best for us. He intervened on behalf of his grandson again. “He deserves his own bed. His own space. Let him play, sit, sleep and stand. He needs a bed of his own,” he said. We got the baby bed.

A few months down the line it was a feeding chair & table. By now Vihaan was able to sit up. “He needs to share the table with you. He needs his own chair,” he reminded us.

From his first study desk at 5, to his bunk bed at 7, to his first big boy bicycle when he turned 10, Baba knew what Vihaan wanted even before we thought of it. He gave attention, while we were busy parenting. He had the heart to look minutely, to notice what a child needed to find his place in the world.

When Baba fell ill for the first time, Vihaan was 6.5 years. Maa called me home saying, “Baba is in the ICU. You have to come, it’s not looking good.” I made my journey home crafting my first words to my father. I met Baba the next day in the ICU, “I need you around till he turns 18. I have no idea what it takes to raise a child in this world Baba. You know it better than me. I haven’t learnt enough from you.”

Baba made his way back into the world with a renewed attention. Vihaan. Baba shared his gift of attention to his grandson like no one else. In return, Vihaan spoilt him with attention. To anyone who has been showered with unadulterated and uninterrupted love by a child would know what I am talking about. In the 6 years that followed, I (and all of us) had the privilege of watching a beautiful intergenerational bond develop. This was a relationship built on trust, respect and love. This was a relationship to admire, be amazed, be joyous or be envious of! If you listened to them, you would see in them friends, adversaries, secret keepers, sounding boards, allies, partners and collaborators. Vihaan turned to Baba to be the custodian of his stories, his adventures and his dreams. Come rain or sunshine, Baba called him in the evenings to listen to his grandson tell him his stories. They discussed toys, games, books and sports. From Asian Games, to World Cups, Olympics and World Championships, the two discussed sports thoroughly. There was no topic that Baba could not speak on. For those which he didn’t know, he was curious enough to let his grandson lead. If Vihaan told him about his super heroes, Baba told him stories of sporting heroes. When Vihaan made him sit through Marvel, Baba introduced him to Hattari. Baba shared his old world boarding school stories, in return Vihaan told him stories about his adventures with friends in school. I was amazed how the two had the patience for each other. I would listen to them and secretly plan to write stories about them someday. That project is now left undone.

When Vihaan was 9, we took away his toys. All of them. We made him pack them in laundry bags and put them inside cupboards. Baba came down heavily on us. He disagreed with our parenting decision. “You’re cruel and insensitive to him. This is wrong. He will remember this forever,” he didn’t mince his words. However, he didn’t come down on us to rescue his grandson either. I think he saw his children grow up as parents. He let us make a decision and live through it. Why did we take away our son’s toys, is a story for another day.

However, from thereon, I noticed how Baba shared his parenting view without imposing anything on us. When we spoke of our wish to send Vihaan to study abroad, he said, “I think it’s wiser to go abroad for higher studies when he is older. Let him stay with you until his graduation.”

“Send him to a boarding school,” he tried this several times, “you both will learn to grow up!”

When Baba got ill, Vihaan made adjustments. He took the lead in lifting Baba’s spirits. He invented new games, Fingball and Chinese Checkers Championships to draw his grandfather to new adventures. He wrote epic fantasies that he discussed with his grandfather at length. Knowing that his grandfather was a voracious reader, Vihaan took the liberty of discussing the plot, character graphs and his storytelling skills with him. Baba listened through his elaborate epic, remembered the many twists and turns, deliberated over the finer points in the narrative, read through his many drafts and gave him feedback. “What a fantastic writer he is turning out to be! I am amazed at his imagination. Have you read it?” he asked everyone. Vihaan was the only writer he read in his last years even when his concentration and his eyesight diminished. When Vihaan enrolled in a writer’s workshop, Baba was the only one who had eyes on his story while he worked on it. “You have to read his bio! I haven’t read a better author bio than what Vihaan has written!” he gushed over his grandson’s writing. Vihaan was writing his first story for an anthology. Through two weeks of the workshop and his writing, there was complete radio silence for us. Only his grandfather had access to him.

One evening, I called him and said, “Baba, don’t gush over him just because he is your grandson. Be critical. You don’t have to be sweet and nice to him all the time. He is still learning to write.” Not the kind to listen to a critical feedback about his grand parenting, he replied, “Why do you think I am biased? He deserves the praise. I am surprised you think he doesn’t deserve it.” The anthology came out after Baba’s passing. He didn’t get to touch the book, but he had eyes on his grandson’s words. When Vihaan read his bio out to us, I tried to listen through my father’s ears. The same ears that were always open to everything Vihaan had to say.

Vihaan hasn’t spoken to his grandfather in 6 months. In this meantime, all of us have tried to step in to fill the large space left by Baba. I recalled all that he taught me about being attentive to my own child. Vihaan is no longer the infant who has to cry to be seen, heard or attended to. With Baba’s passing, he lost an irreplaceable part of his childhood. I have watched him handle his loss, his grief and emotions with immense courage. He has outgrown the pram, the baby cot, the high chair, his study desk, his bicycle and even his bed now! We still have each of these in our home. Someday, we will have to give them away. That day is coming soon. Each item is now an outgrown piece of childhood that holds tremendous memories, sentiments and learnings for us. The time he bought Vihaan a pram, he taught me that a child deserves to see the world on his own terms. That time when he got Vihaan a cot, he reminded me that a child deserves a space that he can call his own. When he bought Vihaan a high chair, he showed us how to a give your child a place on the table. Baba showed us how to gift attention.

“Are you missing Dadulu today?” I asked Vihaan on his 13th birthday, “I can see that you are.”

“I am not actually,” he replied.

My heart took a tumble. Has my newly-turned teen grown out of his loss already? After all, it’s normal for a child to move on. Particularly for a child who is moving to a phase of his life when he would seek attention from peers. In that fraction of a second, I consoled myself.

This is life. Attention ≠ Attention. Why do I even want my son to hold on to his grandfather’s memory? When one stops getting attention, it must be easier to stop giving it. Vihaan is now wearing his grandfather’s Skechers. Someday he will outgrow them too. I must prepare for it.

“Dadulu is inside me. He is not my thinking voice. That’s me. Dadulu is my inner core voice that speaks to me every time I am going wrong. ‘Are you sure?’ I can hear him speak to me,” Vihaan added.

I still don’t know what it takes to raise a teenager or a good human being. I think the answer to that is the gift of attention. Will we, his parents be able to give him what he truly deserves? Baba’s grandson needs his attention. He always will. I think Baba has found a way to give him that all his life.

Watching my son and father together was a privilege, telling their story is a responsibility. I hope to share their stories in the world someday.