As Shantanu Turns 18… A Parent’s Journey with a Special Child
In a few days, my son Shantanu will turn 18.
As I prepare for his birthday, I find myself looking back—not at the diagnosis, not at the therapies, but at the journey that quietly shaped us as a family.
When Shantanu was born, he was a beautiful, robust, strongly built baby.
Like every new mother, I remember holding him and feeling that indescribable joy of bringing a new life into the world.
Nothing seemed unusual. It was only around the age of three or four that tiny questions began to surface.
Thankfully, my mother and my sister noticed them before I did. Some episodes seemed too intense to dismiss.
A simple haircut felt like World War III.
If routines changed unexpectedly, the house would be turned upside down.
I still remember one particular incident. My husband took one spoonful from Shantanu’s tub of ice cream.
The reaction was immediate. He threw himself onto the floor in a full-blown meltdown. Initially, I dismissed it. Children throw tantrums.
After all, I was already a mother to my daughter, and this felt like another difficult moment in parenting. But something didn’t sit right.
We weren’t overly indulgent parents.
Our children weren’t brought up to believe that every whim would be fulfilled. So eventually, we decided to visit a paediatrician.
That appointment led to another. And another. Soon came a battery of assessments. Occupational therapy. Cognitive therapy.
Social skills training. Countless appointments. Countless reports.
Looking back, people often ask whether I ever wondered,
“Why us?” Strangely… No.
Not because we were exceptionally strong. Not because we were extraordinary parents. Simply because once reality presents itself, you have only one meaningful question left.
“What next?”
That became our mindset. The journey wasn’t easy. But more importantly… It wasn’t tragic. It was simply… Different.
I also understand that acceptance is one of the hardest stages for many parents. Accepting that your child needs additional support is never simple. Every parent has their own timeline. There is no right way to arrive at acceptance.
Today, as Shantanu approaches adulthood, I feel grateful. He is on the borderline autism spectrum, but he is also incredibly trainable.
He plays the drums. He sings beautifully. He understands far more than most people assume. This November, he will appear for his Class 10 board examinations. And every one of these milestones deserves celebration.
But this story isn’t only about him. It is about all the people who quietly became part of his journey.
His elder sister. She taught him how to ride a bicycle. How to use GPAY. How to navigate everyday life. She never treated him as someone who couldn’t learn. She simply believed that he would. Her friends accepted him into their circle without hesitation.
That acceptance meant more than they will probably ever know.
At home, we followed only one philosophy.
The parenting I received from my own parents. Strong values. Discipline. Responsibility. No excessive pampering. No wrapping him in cotton wool. No doing things for him simply because it was easier.
Today, if I’m not home, Shantanu can make his own omelette. Cook rice. Prepare dosas.
(Of course, the kitchen is a war zone many times…..but what the hell, Vedika is the same….hahahah!)
Follow his routine. Help with household chores.
In fact, I often joke that he is probably the most disciplined member of our family.
Our goal was never to make life easy for him. Our goal was to make him independent. Because one day… We won’t be here.
And that, I believe, is the responsibility of every parent. Whether your child is neurotypical or has special needs. If we constantly rescue them…
Constantly overprotect them… Constantly do everything on their behalf…We may unknowingly be taking away the very skills they will need the most.
Independence is one of the greatest gifts we can give our children. As parents of special children, we sometimes underestimate what they are capable of.
More often than not…They surprise us. And finally…
To every parent walking a similar path—
I don’t have a grand message. I don’t have all the answers. I simply have 18 years of lived experience.
If my journey helps another parent feel a little less alone…If it gives someone hope…Or even just someone to talk to…
I would be more than happy to listen, share, and connect.
Happy 18th birthday, my dear Shantanu.
Watching you grow has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
Here’s to many more milestones…
And yes, we’re planning a big celebration.