Author: Renu

  • Movies That Speak to Parents: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

    When I was facilitating a workshop, a parent asked me if I could suggest some movies that carry meaningful messages for parents. ˙✧˖°🎞️

    On the spot, I could think only of the movie *Adolescence. By the way, you can read about it on my blog. (Link given at the bottom) Then another parent suggested Taare Zameen Par. Yes, of course—that one belongs on the list too!

    But the question remained with me. So, I thought, why not explore movies that parents and children can watch together—movies that entertain, spark conversations, and leave us with something to think about?

    I plan to talking about more such movies for parents and children. And today’s pick is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the 2005 fantasy film based on Roald Dahl’s book of the same name.

    It is, of course, a fantasy. There is magic, there are imaginary characters, and there are situations that could never happen in real life. Yet, beneath all that fantasy, the messages are surprisingly real—and relevant to both children and parents.

    A little about the story—without spoilers 👁

    A quirky chocolatier, Willy Wonka announces a rather extraordinary idea: hidden inside chocolate wrappers are five golden tickets. The lucky children who find them will get a chance to visit his mysterious chocolate factory.

    But there is more to the visit than meets the eye. Wonka has a secret plan, and as the children move through the factory, one by one, they face situations that test their behaviour, choices and character. And that’s where the movie becomes particularly interesting from a parenting perspective.

    I won’t give away what happens 🤫 Instead, I’ll let the movie do the talking.

    Each time one of the four children is eliminated, Wonka’s wonderfully strange Oompa-Loompas sing a song explaining what went wrong. And if you listen carefully, those songs are not merely about the children. They also offer a reflection on parenting.

    •What flaw led to the child’s downfall?

    •Where did that behaviour come from?

    •And, perhaps most importantly, how were the parents contributing to it?

    So, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory may look like a whimsical story about chocolate, golden tickets and a magical factory. But beneath the fantasy are questions about parenting, values, behaviour, relationships and the kind of adults our children may eventually become.

    That is what makes the movie worth watching with a parenting lens.

    The movie has another powerful thread running through it: Family relationships, what I like to call the power of positive relationships.

    Willy Wonka, despite being a wealthy and successful factory owner, carries an emotional void. There is a particularly telling moment when he struggles even to utter the word “Papa.” I’ll leave that one for you to notice when you watch the movie.

    Our relationships with our children can leave an imprint far beyond childhood. Sometimes, what a person becomes on the outside tells us very little about what they may be carrying on the inside.

    And that makes it much more than just a children’s movie.

    Before I end, I’d like to leave you with a few of the profound and meaningful conversations from the movie:

    Willy Wonka: ❛ The best kind of prize is a surprise! ❜

    ❛ Whipped cream isn’t whipped cream at all unless it’s been whipped with whips. Everybody knows that.❜

    Grandpa Joe: ❛ However small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance was there.❜

    Here’s the coversation❝ ❞ Granpa and Charlie:

    Grandpa George: Young man, come here. There’s plenty of money out there. They print more every day. But this ticket, there’s only five of them in the whole world, and that’s all there’s ever going to be. Only a dummy would give this up for something as common as money. Are you a dummy?

    Charlie: No, sir!

    Grandpa George:Then get that mud off your pants! You’ve got a factory to go to! 🏁

    Perhaps these are worth reading, discussing—and reflecting upon, not just with our children, but with ourselves too.

    Your thoughts? 🎤 Drop in the comment box ✎ᝰ.

    *Adolescence 🔗

  • Remember the Blessings, Release the Wounds

    “Write your injuries in dust and your benefits in marble.”

    Not my words, but certainly one life-changing tip. These words are attributed to a great American thinker, scholar, and statesman from a couple of centuries ago. They beautifully capture the essence of what we now call positive psychology.

    This doesn’t mean we should erase or deny painful experiences. Reflect on them, learn the lesson they offer, and then move on. You may revisit them occasionally—not to relive the pain, but to refresh the wisdom you gained. An injury should not be allowed to make a permanent home in the mind. That’s no good. No use. The past has passed.

    Writing your benefits in marble, on the other hand, means preserving positive experiences in lasting memory. It nurtures gratitude, one of the cornerstones of positive psychology. Gratitude has been shown to reduce stress hormones, activate the brain’s reward centres thus contributing to greater emotional well-being.

    So, let life’s hurts be written in dust, where time and the winds will heal them. Let its blessings be carved in marble, where they can continue to inspire and strengthen you.

    Pro tip: Revisit your happy moments often. They are good for your health.

  • Finding Myself in Swami

    I relate to two fictional characters who found Monday mornings miserable. For both of them, Monday meant another week of slow suffering. Yes, I’m talking about Swami and Tom Sawyer.

    Like Tom Sawyer, I developed convenient psychosomatic symptoms whenever I had to go to school or when my tutor was due to arrive. And like Swami, I fervently wished for an earthquake to destroy my school, for something to happen to the school bus, or at the very least to reach school only to discover it was a holiday.

    Yet, if I have to choose, I identify more with Swami because of his sheer Indianness. Whenever I recount my childhood escapades to my children, they burst into laughter and say, “Ma, you were just like Swami. You must write down your adventures!”

    Since we never learn what became of Swami or Tom after childhood, let me share a few episodes from my own life that explain why I feel such kinship with Swami.

    ▶I must have been six. At my Montessori school, the headmaster was lecturing us during the morning assembly about not littering classrooms by tearing pages out of notebooks. He asked, “Who tears pages from notebooks?”

    Now, I had never torn a page in my life. But eager to establish myself as someone who always spoke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I shot my hand up and lied ‘I tear papers to make boats’.

    I was summoned to the front, praised before the entire school for my honesty, gently warned not to repeat the offence, and then sent back to thunderous applause. It was my moment andI basked in the admiration.

    There are countless such stories of my phenomenal innocence and spectacular ignorance—that choosing just a few is difficult.

    ▶There was the time, when I was about eight, that I ran away from school—rather like Swami fleeing Albert Mission School. My destination, however, wasn’t freedom but the pastry shop near the school. Since I never received pocket money, I simply stood outside gazing longingly at the pastries. While I was feasting with my eyes one of my father’s friends spotted me.

    “What are you doing here?”

    Without missing a beat, I concocted a story on the spot, something like my uniform got torn so I was sent back from school. Now I don’t know if he believed me but I think he did not tell on me.

    ▶Then there was my brief and unsuccessful career in crime.

    One day I stole a fifty-rupee note from the box where my mother kept money for daily household expenses. For reasons I can no longer remember, my school bag was searched in class, and my teacher found the note. She wrote a letter to my parents.

    I never delivered it.

    Instead, I quietly returned the fifty rupees to my mother’s box. My mother never discovered the theft, and my teacher probably forgot all about the letter. My criminal career ended before it had properly begun.

    ▶And finally, a story that is quintessentially Swami.

    My closest friend was a little older, much brighter, and far more popular than I was. He could run super fast, and I was as proud of his friendship as Swami was of Rajam’s. He loved recounting tales of his courage and daring.

    Near our colony stood a temporary bamboo bridge across a narrow stream. One day he announced dramatically, “Yesterday I jumped off the bridge. First I wanted to jump. Then I looked down. I hesitated. Finally, I made a firm resolve, took a deep breath, and leapt.”

    His account impressed me immensely.

    So I marched to the bridge, stood exactly where he must have stood, looked down, hesitated exactly as he had, made my firm resolve, took a deep breath—and jumped.

    There was no audience to applaud me. There was only me, limping painfully. Fortunately, I landed on a soft bed of sand, and by the next morning the limp had disappeared.

    I have no idea whether my friend had actually jumped or was merely boasting.

    But I certainly did. ๋࣭ ⭑

    That, perhaps, is why Swami feels less like a fictional character. Reading him is like reading pages from my own life—only written by someone far more eloquent than I could ever be. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

    I have many more Swaminisque adventures to share. If you’d like to hear them, let me know in the comments. 🎤

  • One Simple Classroom Moment: A Lesson in Curiosity

    The Teacher Didn’t Teach the Meanings. He Taught Something Far More Valuable.

    While channel surfing recently, I stumbled across a simple YouTube video that stayed on my mind long after.

    A teacher was interacting with a small group of children. He asked each child two simple questions:

    ❝What is your name?❞
    ❝Do you know what your name means?❞

    One by one, the children answered. Everyone knew their names, of course, but very few knew what those names actually meant.

    What impressed me was the teacher’s response. No comments, no judgements, just a smile and he moved on to the next child. When everyone had answered, it turned out that only two students out of fifteen knew the meanings of their names.

    He told the children to find out the meaning of their names. Not immediately. Not as homework due the next day. “Take two days, four days, even a week, if you have to”.

    Then the teacher said something beautiful.

    Then he explained why he had asked the question in the first place.

    ❝It is not the meaning that is important. What matters is your curiosity. I want you to be curious to know—to ask questions, to understand the meanings behind things, and to want to know about the world around you.❞

    That was the real lesson. In just a few minutes, he shifted the focus from knowing the right answer to developing the desire to seek answers.

    And that, to me, is what distinguishes a great teacher from an ordinary one. An ordinary teacher may focus on delivering information. A great teacher awakens curiosity.

    Curious children don’t stop learning when the lesson ends. They ask “why,” “how,” and “what if.” They observe, explore, question, and discover. They become lifelong learners because they have developed the habit of seeking understanding rather than simply collecting information. That lesson extends far beyond the classroom.

    Whether it’s the story behind their own name, the reason the sky changes color at sunset, why leaves fall in autumn, or how kindness changes relationships—every question is an opportunity to nurture curiosity.

    Over to you🎤. Drop your thoughts in the comments. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

  • From Outbursts to Understanding

    A Small Intervention That Worked – And what worked for me might work for others too. Hence sharing with you a moment of connection and breakthrough…

    “He behaves very badly. If he doesn’t understand anything or doesn’t know the answer, he completely loses control… yes, at home and in school… You know what he did once? During an online class at home, when the teacher asked him a question, he threw his book at the the computer screen… he tears his books and notebooks, or makes ugly scribbles on them. He simply cannot control it.”

    This was a mother describing her 8-year-old son to me, while the boy sat beside her, visibly uncomfortable and irritated at being the topic of discussion.

    I turned to him and smiled. He tried to return it, but couldn’t quite manage. I didn’t rush into questions about the problem. Instead, I began by engaging him gently—asking about his class, his favourite sport, his favourite subject. As he gradually settled and began to feel a little safer, I shifted the conversation.

    Looking at him calmly, I asked, “Do you get very angry when you don’t know something?” … the boy simply nodded.. I continued “So angry that you feel like tearing your book or scratching it hard with your pencil?”

    “Yes,” he replied in a voice barely audible as if waiting to get an earful from me next moment.

    “Okay… And you know what? You can do that.’ I added looking straight at him.

    He looked up, startled. That was not the response he was expecting. He glanced at his mother, then back at me, as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

    I continued slowly, “It’s okay to feel upset and angry. But next time When you feel that way, instead of scratching your school book or notebook, you use a rough notebook—an old one you don’t need anymore. You can tear it, scribble on it, even crumple it into a ball and throw it away. That way, the anger comes out, but nothing important gets damaged. Does it make sense to you? Do you think you could try that?”

    He paused for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

    Throughout this exchange, his mother listened quietly.

    I then spoke with her about the importance of helping children find safe and acceptable ways to express overwhelming emotions, rather than trying to suppress or punish the expression itself. Children often need permission and guidance to channel anger in ways that do not harm themselves, others, or relationships.

    It has now been around six months since that session. In all this time, all I have heard from the mother, is “Thank you.”

    Sometimes, what looks like a complicated behavioural problem is really a child struggling without tools. And sometimes, a small shift in how we respond becomes the first tool they truly learn to use.

    Your thoughts? Drop ’em in comments 👇

  • The Parenting Legacy That Never Fades

    Two news stories that I read lately have stayed with me. The stories highlight how parents influence our thoughts, desires, choices and our personalities for ever.

    The first is about a man in his seventies who appeared for the NEET (National Eligiblility cum Entrance Test) for medical entrance.

    Why ⍰To fulfil his late mother’s wish.

    The second is about a woman who became a Chartered Accountant after clearing one of the toughest professional exams and against all odds at the age of 52. In doing so she bravely juggled with her studies and mid-life family responsibilities, her daughter’s wedding and tending to her mother-in-law during her final illness.

    Why ⍰Because she wanted to gift her degree to her father on his 75th birthday.

    What connects these two stories?

    In both cases they took on challenges that many would consider impossible at their age. And both were driven by the same powerful motivation—the desire to make their parents proud.

    💭Time to pause and reflect. A child’s longing for their parents’ appreciation doesn’t disappear with age. It stays with them throughout their lives. That’s the extraordinary influence parents have.

    Here’s my message to parents: As parents, we often underestimate the impact we have. Recognize the power you hold. Be conscious of the impact you have. Your influence is far greater and more enduring than you may realize. You can shape lives and inspire greatness. You give roots and wings .ᐟ.ᐟᝰ.ᐟ

    Parenting is not just about raising children. It’s about leaving a legacy of belief that continues to inspire them throughout their lives. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

    Over to you 🎤What is one thing you’ve done—or still hope to do—to make your parents proud? Share your story in comments ⤵️

  • Flying Snakes, Brain Toads and Other Childhood Certainties

    Daily prompt: What’s something you used to believe as a kid that seems ridiculous now?

    ✍️Not one, I’d share quite a few.

    ✦ One of my earliest beliefs was that someone might steal my mother. So I would cling to her constantly, her finger, her hand, or her pallu—just to make sure she stayed close.

    ✦ Then there were the “flying snakes.” The real ones that could swoop over me and finish me anywhere, anytime. For a stretch of my childhood, roughly between ages five and seven, I was genuinely terrified and I did not share it with anyone. Much later in some encyclopaedia I read –

    ‘Flying snakes are real. However, they don’t exactly fly; instead, they are expert gliders. They belong to the genus Chrysopelea and are found in the tropical rainforests of Southeast Asia, parts of China and India.’ Yes, you read it right, India also!

    ✦ Another belief took hold a little later, around ages seven to nine. I remember being told (or perhaps misunderstanding something I heard) that I swallowed frog eggs with water, they would lodge in my brain and turn into toads. 🐸

    ✦Then came my early teens, when I believed I was some kind of genius. 💡 I assumed good marks were inevitable for me, and that studying was something others—those with “lesser brains”—needed to do. That belief was completely shattered after my 10th board results, when I fell flat on my face academically, I mean scraped somehow. It was a humbling moment, but also a turning point. After that “fiasco,” I began to study seriously—and actually did well in all the years that followed. 💯✍️🧠📚

    ✦ I think after that, my beliefs became a little more grounded… and significantly less entertaining. ツ

  • Just Colours. Nothing Else.

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s a thing you were completely obsessed with as a kid?
    View all responses

    Colours have always fascinated me.

    As a child, the one gift I consistently asked for—whether from my parents or visiting relatives—was colours. Crayons, colour pencils, watercolours… any. I remember the anticipation more vividly than the gift itself. I would dream of them, imagining the shades, textures and the mess I’d make with those.

    Interestingly, I wasn’t particularly artistic then, and I wouldn’t call myself artistic now. But my connection with colours has been emotional. They have the power to lift my mood, calm me, or sometimes even stir a quiet sadness. Today, colours can make me feel joyful, elated, thrilled—or a little low. But back then, they meant only one thing: pure excitement!

    Perhaps that’s also why lipsticks fascinated me so much.

    My mother never used lipsticks, so they were none at home. But many of her friends did. Whenever I got the chance, I would quietly sneak and mess around with that colourful stick. I must have ruined a few in the process, though I don’t recall anyone ever complaining to my mother.

    Even now, that fascination hasn’t entirely faded. On some days, I turn to pour painting—not with any grand artistic ambition, but simply to watch the colours merge and move and drip. Sharing some here 🙂

    There’s something deeply satisfying about the interplay, something that still feels as magical as it did in childhood.

    Maybe I never outgrew my love for colours. Shall I tell you women often compliment my dresses ‘I like your choice of colours!’ May be they are right! And I feel flattered. 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯

  • Speaking More Languages: A Workout For Brain

    India has a rich tradition of multilingualism. Most of us grow up speaking two or three languages, thanks to the country’s incredible cultural and linguistic diversity.

    I was reminded of this during an interaction at the University of Rhode Island. A young student asked me,

    ❝Renu, how many languages do you know?❞

    I began modestly: ❝Hindi, English…❞ But perhaps I was in a slightly indulgent mood that day, so I continued, ❝…some Gujarati, I have studied Sanskrit, and I can understand and appreciate Urdu as well.❞

    He looked visibly astonished—eyes widened, mouth slightly open. ❝ That’s quite a lot!❞ he said.

    To keep the conversation going, I asked him the same question. He looked down, raised one finger, and replied somewhat sheepishly, ❝Only one.❞ I instantly regretted putting him in that spot.

    (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) During the same informal interaction, someone shared a lighthearted joke:

    ❝ What do we call someone who speaks many languages?❞ ❝Multilingual.❞

    ❝Two languages? ❞ ❝Bilingual.❞

    ❝ And one language? ❞ ❝ …American.❞

    Clearly meant in jest. But the stereotype made us reflect. It also set the stage for a deeper discussion on MULTILINGUALISM.

    Soon, the conversation shifted to research in psychology and neuroscience, which shows that multilingualism is far more than just a communication skill—it is a cognitive advantage. From enhancing memory and problem-solving abilities to improving focus, fostering empathy, and even delaying cognitive decline, the benefits are both wide-ranging and well documented.

    Multilingualism—the ability to use two or more languages—has profound effects on the brain’s structure and function. These advantages stem from the continuous mental exercise involved in managing multiple languages , strengthening executive functioning and mental flexibility.

    India’s own intellectual and political leaders strongly advocated multilingualism. Figures like Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Rabindranath Tagore, and B. R. Ambedkar believed that learning multiple languages expands the mind, builds cultural bridges, and serves as a powerful tool for social mobility and empowerment.

    Reflecting this vision, educational policies in India have long supported the three-language formula. Recently, CBSE curriculum for 2026–27 has made a third language mandatory from Class 6. The National Education Policy’s emphasis on Indian languages. While some argue that this may limit the choice of foreign languages for students, many institutions are creatively addressing this by introducing language clubs and extracurricular opportunities.

    I often hear parents express concern about the increasing academic load due to the additional language requirement. However, what is often overlooked are the significant cognitive benefits of language learning. It contributes to brain development, enhances executive functioning, improves focus, and nurtures creativity—while also strengthening communication and social skills.

    At a time when global research strongly supports the advantages of multilingualism, it may be worth rethinking these concerns. Instead of viewing it as a burden, we could see it as an investment in a child’s intellectual and personal growth.

    As the contemporary linguist G. N. Devy, who has documented hundreds of Indian languages through the People’s Linguistic Survey of India, aptly reminds us:

    Losing languages means losing ways of understanding life.

    Your thoughts in the comment box.

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  • What Children Are Losing in the Race to Succeed

    Words! So many words!!

    Loose and free! Are they? Or are these words linked?

    Why do these words keep whiring in my mind? Perhaps they are more deeply connected than they appear.

    Recently, I came across a statement by Professor Shireesh Kedare, Director of IIT Bombay, in The Indian Express (March 6, 2026):
    “Coaching culture trains students to game the exam rather than build conceptual understanding. This approach doesn’t work in the IIT system.”

    This stayed with me.

    My thoughts wandered to the many reports of students resorting to self-harm in prestigious institutions, and to similar incidents in cities where coaching centres thrive but young minds quietly struggle. I even recalled a panel discussion I watched years ago, where heads of IITs spoke about the rising number of student suicides on their campuses.

    One remark stuck: many students entering these institutions are those have not read any story books, watched meaningful films, pursued hobbies, or experienced unstructured play. From as early as Grades 6 or 7, they are absorbed into coaching systems. By the time they get here, they are often mentally exhausted, emotionally depleted, and physically inactive.

    They are unprepared—not intellectually, but psychologically—for the journey ahead. For years, their singular goal has been to “get in.” Schools, parents, and coaching systems reinforce this idea.

    I recall a school leader telling Grade 12 students: “Focus on getting into IIT. Once you’re there, life is set.”
    The implication was clear—work relentlessly now, and later you just chill and enjoy life. But reality is very different. And reality hits them hard as nothing, no one prepared them for that.

    Many students discover that the pressure does not ease; it intensifies. Without genuine interest in their field, without emotional resilience, and without a broader foundation of experiences, they struggle to cope.

    As Professor Kedare also points out in the same idea exchange that some students arrive driven more by the brand value of institutions than by thrir passion for learning. When faced with academic and personal challenges, they falter. He adds that he has seen students spiral—one, for instance, turned to excessive gaming and failed most first-semester courses.

    This forces us to question the cost are we chasing success.

    It is natural for parents to want the best for their children. But should childhood be sacrificed at the altar of coaching classes? Too often, we hear heartbreaking accounts of children apologizing to their parents for “failing” them—just before taking irreversible step.

    Parents may not fully grasp the immense pressure their children carry, or how fragile their mental health can become under it.

    So what can be done?

    First, we must stop placing the entire weight of expectations on young shoulders. Children need time— for studies, and for life.

    Time to play.
    Time to explore hobbies.
    Time to simply be.

    Free play is not a luxury; it is essential. It supports emotional regulation and contributes to mental strength. Physical activity is equally critical—it nurtures both body and mind.

    I know of a parent who once said, “She can play after her Class 12 exams. There’s no point wasting time now.”
    But is play really a waste of time?

    Is it not fundamental to healthy development? Can children truly excel academically if their physical and emotional needs are neglected? Childhood is a critical period of growth—what is missed then cannot be fully recreated later.

    Watching reels or playing video games is not the same as running outdoors, playing a sport, or engaging with peers. Through sports and play, children learn to solve problems, follow rules, handle victory and defeat, negotiate, collaborate, and persist. They learn resilience, they thrive.

    And yet, while we speak often about social-emotional learning, we rarely give children the space to experience it.

    Many parents also dismiss stories, poetry, theatre, or the arts as distractions. “What’s the use?” they ask.

    Oh, the use is profound!

    Stories build imagination.
    Poetry deepens emotional awareness.
    The arts cultivate empathy, reflection, and self-expression.

    These experiences shape individuals who are not only academically capable, but also socially aware, emotionally intelligent, and truly prepared for life.

    If we want our children to flourish and not just succeed—we must rethink what we value.

    Now let’s turn to the words we read in the beginning. Those are not separate after all.They are threads of the same fabric.

    Your thoughts? 🗨️

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