When I Sat Behind My Son

For the last year or so, Aryan has been driving me around most of the time in his car. Today, he suddenly asked me to come with him on his bike, a Svartpilen 401.

I sat behind him.

As we moved through the traffic, I occasionally held him when he braked. Nothing unusual about that, except that it suddenly took me back many years.

There was a time when Aryan used to sit behind me or stand in front of me. His little hands would go around my waist and hold me tightly whenever I slowed down. Sometimes he would fall asleep, completely trusting that I would get him home safely. I don't remember how many rides we had together, but I remember that feeling.

Today, I was sitting behind him. And he was the one taking me home.

It is strange how children grow up. There is no announcement. No particular day when you suddenly realise that the little boy you carried has become a man. It happens in small moments.

You notice it when he starts driving instead of you. When he starts giving you directions. When he tells you which route to take. When you ask him something about a phone or a car and he gives you an answer that you actually have to think about. Then one day, you realise you have started depending on him for things.

I remember the days when I was the one making almost every decision for him. What he should eat, where he should go, what he should buy, when he should come home. Even small things needed my approval.

Today, sometimes he tells me what I should do. And honestly, I don't mind it.

There was another small moment today that stayed with me. After our Onam Sadhya in a restaurant, I picked up some sweets from a shop. I stood to one side while Aryan paid the bill.

I don't know why, but I just stood there watching him. It was such a simple thing. But for a few seconds, it felt like life had quietly changed places.

There was a time when he would stand next to me while I paid. He would probably be looking at the sweets or something else, completely unaware of what was happening.

Today, I was the one standing there with the sweets while he took care of the payment. It made me think of all those other small changes I had probably missed. The first time he went somewhere without me. The first time he handled something I would normally have taken care of. The first time he gave me advice instead of asking for it. The first time I realised that I didn't need to explain everything to him anymore.

As parents, we spend so much time preparing our children to become independent that we rarely think about what it will feel like when they actually become independent.

We teach them to cross the road. Then one day they start driving. We hold their hands while they walk. Then one day they are walking ahead of us. We pay their bills. Then one day they quietly pick up the bill themselves.

And perhaps this is the part nobody tells you about growing older. You don't really notice your own age. You notice it through your children.

You see them becoming taller, stronger, more confident and more capable. You see them making their own decisions and building their own lives. And somewhere in that process, your role changes.

You are no longer the person who has to do everything for them. You become the person they look after sometimes.

Today, sitting behind Aryan on that bike, I suddenly remembered the little boy who used to hold me tightly from behind.

I don't know if he remembers those rides. He probably doesn't. For him, today was probably just another bike ride with Dad.

For me, it was a little reminder of the journey we have travelled. Once he sat behind me because he needed me to take him somewhere.

Today I sat behind him because he was taking me somewhere.

Maybe that is what growing up really means. Not just that your children become adults. But that one day, without either of you noticing, they become the ones carrying you a little.

And somewhere in my heart, while sitting behind him today, I felt something I cannot quite explain.

A little pride.

A little nostalgia.

A little sadness for the little boy who is no longer little.

And a lot of gratitude for the man sitting in front of me.