Prince Sudhir
Prince Sudhir
On the late afternoon Hammersmith and City Line tube an Indian woman got on with her two children: a girl around five years of age and a boy of seven. The boy wheeled a silver scooter beside him. He took the only available seat, leaving his mother to stand in front of him, holding his sister's hand. He made it very clear that he was not listening to any of his mother's discussion about where to best store the scooter by kicking her several times in the shin. She moved back several paces, so he shimmied down in his seat in order to lash out with his leg and land a hefty kick in her lower stomach. She took this with humility and said nothing to the boy. At the next station the little girl attempted to move the scooter away from the door. The boy screamed and shoved her in the chest. She fell to the floor and began crying, whereupon the boy kicked her in the leg. At this the mother said, quietly,
"Sudhir, please don't kick her." Sudhir grabbed the handlebar of his scooter and shook it violently so that it rocked through the air, catching a man on the elbow. The mother said nothing to Sudhir but held his crying sister close to her. Sudhir now began to also loudly wail,
"Why do you only listen to her? Why do you never listen to my thoughts?" His mother began to answer him, but he cut her off with an even louder wail and an eruption of crocodile tears. He then, with a furious growl, pushed the scooter roughly across the carriage and it clunked into the legs of an elderly woman sitting opposite him. The mother said nothing. The elderly woman glared at the boy and rubbed her shins.
Now a seat had become available further down the carriage and the mother took her daughter and sat there, leaving Sudhir to faux-cry on his own. I watched as she ignored the boy, pretending that she had nothing whatsoever to do with him. Seeing that he would now have to work harder to get the attention he desperately craved Sudhir stood up and propelled himself up and down the full carriage on his scooter as the train rocked and hurtled a hundred feet below the ground. His mother said nothing. Very quickly the inevitable happened, and as the train careered around the next curve the boy and his scooter capsized onto the floor, his vehicle sliding from under him and crashing into a seated young woman's ankle. The woman swore and pushed the scooter away from her. The mother said, quietly, and with no conviction whatsoever,
"Saying sorry now to lady".
Sudhir sprawled in his seat and looked furiously and imperiously at the woman passenger, who returned his gaze with added daggers. There was a stand-off and as the train had reached my station I never saw whether Prince Sudhir ever attained a state of humility. As I stepped past him and his accursed scooter as the train door opened, I did, however, only just suppress an almost overwhelming desire to slap the vile child across his raven-haired head.
On the late afternoon Hammersmith and City Line tube an Indian woman got on with her two children: a girl around five years of age and a boy of seven. The boy wheeled a silver scooter beside him. He took the only available seat, leaving his mother to stand in front of him, holding his sister's hand. He made it very clear that he was not listening to any of his mother's discussion about where to best store the scooter by kicking her several times in the shin. She moved back several paces, so he shimmied down in his seat in order to lash out with his leg and land a hefty kick in her lower stomach. She took this with humility and said nothing to the boy. At the next station the little girl attempted to move the scooter away from the door. The boy screamed and shoved her in the chest. She fell to the floor and began crying, whereupon the boy kicked her in the leg. At this the mother said, quietly,
"Sudhir, please don't kick her." Sudhir grabbed the handlebar of his scooter and shook it violently so that it rocked through the air, catching a man on the elbow. The mother said nothing to Sudhir but held his crying sister close to her. Sudhir now began to also loudly wail,
"Why do you only listen to her? Why do you never listen to my thoughts?" His mother began to answer him, but he cut her off with an even louder wail and an eruption of crocodile tears. He then, with a furious growl, pushed the scooter roughly across the carriage and it clunked into the legs of an elderly woman sitting opposite him. The mother said nothing. The elderly woman glared at the boy and rubbed her shins.
Now a seat had become available further down the carriage and the mother took her daughter and sat there, leaving Sudhir to faux-cry on his own. I watched as she ignored the boy, pretending that she had nothing whatsoever to do with him. Seeing that he would now have to work harder to get the attention he desperately craved Sudhir stood up and propelled himself up and down the full carriage on his scooter as the train rocked and hurtled a hundred feet below the ground. His mother said nothing. Very quickly the inevitable happened, and as the train careered around the next curve the boy and his scooter capsized onto the floor, his vehicle sliding from under him and crashing into a seated young woman's ankle. The woman swore and pushed the scooter away from her. The mother said, quietly, and with no conviction whatsoever,
"Saying sorry now to lady".
Sudhir sprawled in his seat and looked furiously and imperiously at the woman passenger, who returned his gaze with added daggers. There was a stand-off and as the train had reached my station I never saw whether Prince Sudhir ever attained a state of humility. As I stepped past him and his accursed scooter as the train door opened, I did, however, only just suppress an almost overwhelming desire to slap the vile child across his raven-haired head.
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