31.08.2026
The packet of cigarettes
When my sons were old enough to start smoking secretly, I left a packet of cigarettes on a piece of furniture, within their reach. There were still a few inside.
I told them: this is here for whoever wants to smoke.
Months went by and the packet was still full. I asked them whether they didn’t want to try. They looked at me the way you look at one who has just said something stupid. “Dad, are you all right in the head?”
There was no lecture. I didn’t show them photographs of blackened lungs.
The real test came later, outside the house. Some older lads started offering things to Arjuna. Cigarettes first and then other things. He said no. They pushed. He said no again.
One day, fed up, he came out with it: “I don’t do it because I don’t want to. Because my father lets me.”
They stood there. One said his father would kill him. Another that he’d be shut in for a month. Another that at home those things weren’t even mentioned.
Arjuna had got to something on his own that I never explained to him: when you have permission, you don’t need to rebel. Rebellion is left with nowhere to stand when there’s nothing to rebel against.
With sweets I did the opposite. I took them to a sweet shop and told them to take whatever they wanted. They each filled a bag and stuffed themselves for hours. They got stomach ache and didn’t want sweets for weeks. After that, with dried figs and dates in the house, that was enough.
I banned nothing either time. I just let them go all the way to the end and see what was there.
It’s the closest thing to a method I have, and as you can see it doesn’t stretch to a manual.