MAADHYAM

I   am not going to use the photo of the child in the topic, but here is my take on this. Being a mother and a media person who knows exactly how these programs work, here is my opinion, unedited and unfiltered. In a world where every moment can be clipped, captioned, and shared, even a child’s innocent remark can become fuel for public outrage. The recent Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) controversy, involving a 10-year-old contestant, is a case in point. What was meant to be a fun, inspiring moment of curiosity turned into a nationwide debate — and unfortunately, a digital trial of a child. The Viral Storm During his appearance, he confidently told host Amitabh Bachchan that he already knew the rules and didn’t need multiple-choice options. Within hours, social media was flooded with comments calling him “rude,” “overconfident,” and “arrogant.” Worse, people began to bash his parents, dissecting their parenting based on a few edited seconds of footage. He lost, but was it punishment f...

As parents, we often find ourselves juggling countless responsibilities—work, household tasks, and raising children. In the midst of it all, it can be easy to focus on what needs to be fixed or improved, especially when it comes to our kids. But what if the key to helping them grow lies not in constant correction, but in appreciation and encouragement? The Story of Riya and Her Son, Aarav Riya, a working mom, had always been dedicated to her career and family. But lately, she noticed her 8-year-old son, Aarav, becoming more withdrawn and less excited about school. His grades had started to drop, and Riya found herself constantly nagging him to complete his homework or study more. The more she pushed, the more Aarav seemed to retreat into his shell. One evening, during a particularly heated moment, Aarav blurted out, “You only notice when I do something wrong!” That hit Riya hard. She hadn’t realized that her well-meaning advice and constant correction had overshadowed something far mor...

It began like any ordinary Sunday. The fan hummed lazily above the dining table. Plates of half-eaten parathas lay scattered, along with a math notebook Riya had quietly pushed aside. At fifteen, she had mastered the art of appearing busy while feeling invisible. “Still not finished?” her father asked, glancing at the open notebook. “I’ll do it,” she replied softly. Her mother added, almost casually, “Your cousin Aarav finished his syllabus last month. He’s so focused. You should learn from him.” It was said in passing. Not harsh. Not loud. But it landed. Riya lowered her eyes. She nodded, the way she had trained herself to do when comparisons surfaced. The conversation moved on. The comment did not. Over time, the statements became patterns. “You’re too sensitive.” “Why do you overreact to everything?” “Girls these days have too many distractions.” “When I was your age, I never answered back.” Each sentence sounded like advice. Correction. Guidance. But slowly, they formed...