You Create Children to Continue the Rituals

I. The Child’s Silent Beginning

A child is born.

Not into a blank world.

Into a world full of rules.

Full of rituals.

These rituals were not chosen by the child.

They come from parents, family, and society.

The child’s first moments are filled with ceremonies.

A naming ritual, a first bath, a sacred thread.

The child watches, listens, obeys.

But deep inside, the child is silent.

They do not understand the weight they carry.

They only feel the eyes, the expectations.

The rituals mark the beginning of a long journey.

---

II. The Child’s First Encounter with Rituals

From the start, the child is taught to follow.

Eat this way, dress like this, pray at this time.

Each day, a new rule.

Each festival, a new ceremony.

The child learns that rituals are important.

They mean belonging, respect, honor.

But also: they mean obedience.

The child tries to please.

They want to be loved.

Yet the rituals are heavy.

Sometimes they confuse the child.

Why must they do this?

Why must they act this way?

No answers come.

Only the quiet pressure to conform.

---

III. Parental Imposition: Rituals as Control

Parents hold the rituals tightly.

They believe rituals keep the family strong.

They believe rituals show love.

But for the child, rituals feel like chains.

When the child questions, parents grow firm.

“Because we have always done it.”

“Because it is tradition.”

The child’s small doubts are met with silence or scolding.

The child learns to hide feelings.

To obey without asking.

Because love feels conditional.

Only given when rituals are followed.

Rituals become tools.

Tools to control the child’s body and mind.

The child wants freedom.

But knows freedom means punishment.

---

IV. The Child’s Inner Conflict

Inside, the child fights.

A battle between curiosity and control.

They want to explore.

To ask why.

To find their own path.

But the ritual cage tightens.

Every question feels like disobedience.

Every small freedom is met with warning.

The child feels invisible.

Their true self hidden deep inside.

Only the ritual mask is shown.

This creates pain.

A silent sadness grows.

But the child hides it well.

---

V. Rituals Harden: The Weight of Expectation

As the child grows, rituals grow stronger.

School becomes a ritual of rules.

Caste roles whisper expectations.

Marriage talks begin.

The child’s dreams collide with the old ways.

They want to be an artist, but caste says doctor.

They want to marry late, but parents say early.

Pressure rises like a storm.

The child smiles on the outside.

Inside, they feel trapped.

They learn to shut down feelings.

Slowly, the child begins to withdraw.

---

VI. The Child’s Estrangement — A Slow, Happy Drift

The strange truth: the more rituals tighten, the more the child pulls away.

They stop sharing.

They stop asking.

They find small escapes.

A book becomes a secret friend.

A phone or computer becomes a window.

Friends become a hidden refuge.

The child drifts quietly.

They are estranged, but not angry.

There is relief in distance.

Freedom in silence.

The child learns to live apart, inside their own mind.

---

VII. Parental Blindness and Hurt

Parents do not always see this.

They see silence as disrespect.

They see withdrawal as rebellion.

They punish more rituals.

They demand more obedience.

Parents hurt too.

They only want the best.

They think rituals are love.

But their love feels like a cage.

They do not see the child slipping away.

The gap grows wide.

Both suffer, but no one speaks.

---

VIII. The Child’s Longing and Loss

Even as the child grows distant, a quiet hope remains.

They want to be seen.

Not as a ritual carrier.

Not as a duty to fulfill.

But as a whole person.

The child feels loss.

Loss of connection.

Loss of self.

They hold this loss inside.

Like a secret wound.

Sometimes they cry alone.

Sometimes they dream of freedom.

---

IX. Moments of Rebellion and Choice

The child tries small rebellions.

They skip a ritual.

They refuse a rule.

They speak a truth.

The cost is fear.

Guilt follows like a shadow.

Family tension rises.

But the reward is real.

A taste of self.

A moment of joy.

These small acts are the child’s way.

To rewrite the story slowly.

---

X. The Future Unknown

Will the child ever fully escape?

Will they carry the rituals or break free?

The future is uncertain.

Change is slow and hard.

But hope shines.

Awareness grows.

More children ask why.

Some break chains.

Others learn to live between worlds.

The child’s story is still being written.

---

XI. Conclusion: The Child’s Quiet Revolution

Rituals bind bodies and actions.

But hearts can grow free.

Estrangement is pain and survival.

It is a quiet rebellion.

The child grows, rewrites, and resists.

Not loudly, but deeply.

Parents must see beyond rituals.

To love the child as they are.

Only then can the cycle change.

And the child find true freedom.

---

A DIALOGUE

When Rituals Build Walls: A Family’s Quiet Struggle to Reconnect

Madhukar — a wise, calm healer — talking with a family whose children have grown emotionally distant due to the heavy ritual expectations at home. The dialogue is simple, heartfelt, and focused on the child’s experience.

---

Scene: Madhukar sits with the family — mother, father, and their two teenage children — in a quiet room. The atmosphere is tense but open.

---

Madhukar:

Thank you for inviting me. I hear the silence between you feels loud. Your children seem distant. Can you tell me what you feel?

Mother:

We do everything for them. Every ritual, every tradition. We thought that would keep us close. But they are... gone inside their own world.

Father:

They obey less. They speak less. Sometimes, they don’t even look at us. It hurts. We don’t know where we went wrong.

Madhukar:

I see. Sometimes, when rituals become chains, children feel trapped. They obey outside but their hearts drift away.

Mother:

But rituals are our love. How can they not feel that?

Madhukar:

Love is more than rituals. Children want to be seen, not as duties to fulfill, but as themselves. When rituals grow heavy, children hide their true selves. It is their way to survive.

Father:

So, they choose distance?

Madhukar:

Often, yes. Estrangement is quiet, but it is real. It protects them from the weight of expectation.

Mother:

What can we do? We want them close again.

Madhukar:

Start small. Listen without judgment. Let go of “because we always do it.” Ask: what do you want? What do you feel?

Son: (quietly)

We want to breathe. Not every day is a rule.

Daughter:

We want to be more than rituals. We want to be seen.

Madhukar:

That is the first step—seeing each other truly. Rituals can stay, but they should not be prisons.

Mother:

It will be hard to change.

Madhukar:

Change is slow. But love grows in freedom. Let your children lead sometimes. You may be surprised who they become.

Father:

We are afraid. Afraid to lose control.

Madhukar:

Control is an illusion. Freedom is trust. Trust will bring you closer than any ritual ever could.

Mother:

We will try. For them, and for us.

Madhukar:

That is the beginning. Healing is not only for the body. It is for the heart and home.

---

You Create Children to Continue the Rituals

you create children

not just to love

not just for laughter

but to hold the smoke of old fires

to carry the weight of unspoken prayers

they come out blinking

into a house full of habits

rituals heavier than their small bones

and hands too young to hold such burdens

the first breath is not just air—

it is a contract

signed in silence

with the ghosts of all who came before

naming ceremonies that seal their fate

first food, first bath, first chant

each a link in the chain

no child ever asked for

and the parents,

clutching these rituals like lifelines

believing love lives here

not seeing the slow tightening

the squeeze around tender hearts

children learn early

to hide the part that wants to run

to smile when the body wants to scream

to fold themselves small

to disappear inside the shell of “good child”

obedience is the currency

and guilt the ever-watchful guard

“because we always do it”

is a cage wrapped in silk

inside, the child’s mind twists

like a river dammed

questions bubbling

longings choked silent

they want to dance with freedom

to paint outside the lines

to taste life without prescription

but the ritual drum beats louder

echoing in every room

school, caste, marriage—

the old songs grow louder still

pressures stacking like bricks

on backs too fragile

and slowly,

the child’s eyes shift

from the hopeful to the hollow

from light to shadow

from belonging to estrangement

the strange peace of distance

a quiet refusal

to be just a ritual’s echo

they drift inside themselves

finding in silence

a kind of escape

and the parents?

they do not see

or cannot see

their love wrapped in rules

blinding them to loss

they mistake silence for disrespect

withdrawal for defiance

and tighten the chains again

not knowing they break more than bones

the child’s heart cracks

but beats still

in hidden chambers

where dreams whisper softly

they long for a touch

not ritual

a look that sees them

not the role they must play

sometimes they rebel—

not loudly, but deeply

a skipped prayer

a forbidden word

a stolen moment of self

the cost is heavy

guilt, fear, pain

but the taste of freedom

is sweeter than any old rite

this is their quiet war

their slow burn

a revolution without guns

without noise

it is in the small breaks

the soft refusals

the invisible lines crossed

and maybe one day

when parents learn to listen

when love sheds its armor

when rituals become choice, not chains

then children will come home

not just bodies carrying old smoke

but whole souls free to burn bright

until then,

they drift—

estranged,

silent,

waiting.

---

.end.