Thirukkural - a constant presence in most Tamil kids’ lives. From learning five to ten thirukkural in elementary, all the way up to forty kural a year in high school, to neighborhood thirukkural competitions, and perennial "Daily kural" shows on media, whether the kids like it or not, thirukkural will find its way to them.

Almost, none of our mediums would dare ask these kids "Do you agree with what Valluvar says? Why? or Why not?", "Has learning thirukkural been really helpful to you? How so?". For the most part, we treat it as yet another venue to test kids. Or maybe as a sport like spelling bee. A numbers sport. Easy to assess, grade, and pick a winner.

Though I am not a fan of thirukkural, I have immense respect for anything that has stood the test of time for thousands of years. Would a master who created such a work be happy with the way it is consumed? Wouldn't Valluvar prefer for folks of appropriate age to willingly reach for it, instead of it being force-fed to children? Wouldn't he have wanted thirukkural itself to be the motivation to read thirukkural, rather than trophies, goodies, and recognition?

In all these years, I have personally come across only a handful of people who say they love thirukkural, and about half of them are more "wannabe thirukkural lovers", rather than "true thirukkural lovers".

Personally, as an adult, I have been impressed with the aesthetics of thirukkural - the literary prowess of Valluvar to condense each idea into just seven words, organize these ideas into themes, and distill human life into these themes. But I have never been impressed with the content of it. I hardly recall having enlightening moments reading it. The only kural that made me go "wow", that too, after becoming a parent, was

குழல்இனிது யாழ்இனிது என்பதம் மக்கள்
மழலைச்சொல் கேளா தவர்.
Meaning: The pipe is sweet, the lute is sweet," say those who have not heard the prattle of their own children.

Most of the other ones that I have read so far, passed right by me. I neither had trouble with what it preached nor was I impressed. But there are a few that bother me. Especially a couple of oft-quoted kurals that we simply can't escape from. The first one is

ஈன்ற பொழுதின் பெரிதுவக்கும் தன்மகனைச்
சான்றோன் எனக்கேட்ட தாய்.
Meaning: The mother who hears her son called a “wise, well-mannered man” will rejoice more than she did at his birth.

We tell the poor kid that to make his mom happy, he ought to win not just her direct validation, but he has to do so by winning the validation of others. Just to make sure the kid doesn't take this lightly, we stress that this will bring his mom happiness - not just a fleeting happiness, but the one that will surpass even her joy of bringing him into existence.

Is it fair to push our kids to weigh winning accolades against their births? How far would we go to take advantage of their natural inclination to win our approval? Anybody who doesn't see an issue with this kural should dare to teach it in the first person point of view to their own kids, instead of third person POV: "I will be happy when others call you a wise and well-mannered man, my child. Happier than the day you came into our lives". Even if they find the guts to do so, I wonder what would they say if the kid responds with, "But mom, what if others never call me a wise, well-mannered man?". Or, even worse, what if he never confides this fear to his parents, but lives his life with a passive guilt that he had failed to make them proud?

“No kid will take this kural literally”, you might say. “It is just one of the myriad ways they are subconsciously influenced to feel responsible for their parent's happiness”, I say.

The other one is
இன்னாசெய் தாரை ஒறுத்தல் அவர்நாண
நன்னயஞ் செய்து விடல்.
Meaning: The way to punish a person who has done an evil deed to you is by making them feel ashamed by doing a good deed to them. And then, forget it.

First, this is not practical: More often than not, the person we perceive as an evil-doer, may not see himself as such. From his perspective, we might be the evil-doers. Chances are the good deed we do to make him feel ashamed, may fail to have the intended effect, or worse, will irritate him, and we will feel even more miserable when our apparent love fetches even more hate.

Second, the ethics of this kural: Make no mistake. This is not the same as saying “Respond to hate with love”. The advice is to punish the other person by making him feel ashamed. To put him down. But to use the good deed as a tool to accomplish that. Do we want inflicting shame to be the motivation to do a good deed? A good deed, with a bad intention, is a bad deed. I would either forgive or confront the person and call it quits, rather than doing a good deed and hoping he feels ashamed.

Sure, some people may find thirukkural to be immensely helpful. My objective is not to proclaim that it is universally bad. But to suggest that we ought to make it available to children, without forcing it on them. To be bold enough to invite their honest opinion and not just their recital. To not teach it, or anything for that matter, with reverence that everything it says must be right.

May we vet the wisdom handed to us, however wise and authoritative it is, with our self-inquiry, however mediocre and timid we think it is.