ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS

I was in sixth grade and my sister was in fourth grade. We were studying in the same school. I had a project to make and submit it the next day in the class. I was working on my project since I got back from the school. I was done with the major work of cutting the right pictures and sticking them over the project book. Now only the writing stuff was remaining. Dad had helped me in getting the information and sorting it out to come up only the crucial and most essential information that should go on the project. I quickly took out my pouch to look for a black sketch-pen. I searched in the pouch, could see all the colors but black. So I thought of borrowing it from my sister.

 

She didn’t have any homework and was nicely playing with her doll. I asked for a black sketch-pen. Initially she denied saying she doesn’t have one and continued playing with her doll. I urged her to check carefully as I needed it urgently. She got up, went up to her cupboard and checked something and came back again with a negative reply. I knew that mom had got her a new sketch-pen box last week. So I thought to myself that her denial might be for two reasons. One reason could be that she might have lost it herself. The second could be, which I felt would be a stronger reason, that she didn’t want to give it to me as I would use it all up and she wouldn’t have it when she requires. I confronted her saying that she had got a new box last week and how could she say that she doesn’t have it.

 

A naughty look appeared in her eyes and she smiled very cutely. Then she came up with a proposal that I need to stand closing my eyes and she will put all the sketch pens on the table. I will have three chances to pick-up a sketch pen. If I was able to get a black one in those three attempts I could use it otherwise it would be case of sheer bad luck. I had no time to play games but neither did I have the courage to escalate the matter, as it was me who had lost my black sketch-pen. Without any further time wasting I agreed to her proposal and stood there innocently closing my eyes. I could hear the sound of opening the box, pulling out the sketch pens and laying them on the table. After she was done, she gave me a signal to take my first chance. I extended my arm and let my fingers run over a few sketch pens and finally picked up one. In the excitement I immediately opened my eyes to check. Sadly it was a blue sketch pen. I kept it back. My sister seemed very happy that I missed a chance and started clapping, mimicking loser expressions. She asked me to close my eyes again. I did at once. She shuffled the sketch pens on the table and indicated to go for the second chance. I again extended my arm, this time on a different area of the table and settled it on one of them. I again opened my eyes hoping that I would have hit it right this time. Unfortunately it was an orange sketch pen. I felt saddened. My sister gave me the same reaction, this time a happier one. She reminded me that it was my last chance to get my desired color sketch pen. She wished me luck as well with an impish look. I closed my eyes, this time desperate to get the black one. She again shuffled the sketch pens on the table and asked me to pick one. I reached out for a pen, hoping that it would be black. I quickly opened my eyes and to my disappointment it was a green sketch pen. I felt disheartened and my sister burst out laughing. She quickly gathered all the pens and kept it back in the box hurriedly.

 

I had no choice but to go to mom for help. I told her the whole story. She went to my sister, spoke with her for a while, (might be a dose of learning), and returned with a black sketch pen. I was completely astonished to see that. I was happy to get the pen and get going on my project work. Later I learned from my mother that my sister had played it unfair with me. She had already taken out the black sketch pen from the bunch and hidden it in her drawer. So my chances of hitting a black one were already eliminated even before I started. Now I could relate to my sister’s wicked expressions and that twinkle in the eyes.

This was my childhood story, but today when I remember it, certain questions occur to my mind. Why would a child aged nine years would do such a thing and not help out someone in trouble? Why would a child trick her own brother into despair? Why would a child derive happiness on seeing someone lose?  The schools and the books taught them the right values and right ways of community living. Parents also kept on repeating the same messages. So why did the child display a contrast behavior?

 

They say that actions speak louder than words. So does that mean that the lessons were only a compilation of the words? And the action by all around was largely missing from the environment? I am just thinking aloud. What do you think?

(c) - Rahul Shinde 11/JUN/2020