There are standards by which people judge your right to exist in a particular era and a certain society. One of the major standards of measure today is your inclination towards vitamin M. No, it is not a new discovery of medicine, but one that has been a prime cause of motivation behind man’s progress and development: Money. Man has constantly strived to better himself in terms of material wealth, and the more digits he adds to his incoming wealth, the more horns he tends to develop on his head! Like a saying in Hindi, for some people, even seven murders are pardoned. This is especially applicable if a person is financially astute, knows how to juggle his pennies, and convert them into something that has more and more value in terms of material wealth. And god help those who are saddled with money to play around with but do not have the faintest of idea, what to do about it!
A friend of mine had some shares invested in her name by her benevolent father-in-law, who spared no opportunity to remind her, that she was a ‘rich lady’ because of these shares, and that she should go through the annual reports of the companies which were being sent to her. This friend of mine would barely glance at the reports and some of them even went unopened, with the old papers! But though she was not interested in share marketing, she was astute enough to calculate other issues in life. Like, how much she had invested in human relationships and how they reaped dividends in terms of emotional interests which far surpassed the quarterly dividends which arrived in her name(which the father-in-law could never comprehend). Though she was dumb not to be unmeasurably grateful to her father-in-law for lending her a paltry sum to book a flat, she did recognize that it was because of the ‘timely help’ that he gave, that she was in possession of the flat today, where her parents’ lived. And so, when her husband lost no opportunity to remind her of this fact, and also at times flung this fact at their faces, she never opened her mouth once, to ask for a financial equivalent for the other ‘timely help’ that she, as a dutiful daughter-in-law, had rendered. She never reminded them that if she had not rushed her mother-in-law to the hospital on time, gangrene would have set in on one of her foot and she would have ended up being a cripple… If she had not insisted on taking her father-in-law for an eye check-up when the doctor pronounced him almost blind in one eye because of a mature cataract, he would have been a one-eyed financial wizard. Was she then really financially as dumb as they made her out to be I wonder ? If she started asking for financial equivalent for all these emotional investments, would they be rich enough to repay her ? Would they be able to compensate her for the emotional upheavals she went through everytime something went wrong in their lives and they blamed her for it ? Could she claim compensation for hours of agony when this very father-in-law made her do things that went against the very grains of her dignity and self-respect ? If she sent an Annual Report to them on her life in their family, would they even read it ? Their investment would be a total zero in the balance sheet which they would see. I wonder, I really wonder who is richer – the father and the son duo, who expected the daughter-in-law to fall at their feet simply because they used her name to invest their money, so that they save tax (and they thought she did not know this ! and that they invested in her name because of love for her !) or the daughter-in-law who cried tears of blood when the father and son duo made her parents feel so obligated towards them because they had ‘invested’ in a flat for which the father-in-law had given the money.
Her parents, who lost sleep day in and day out, simply because the children were undergoing a stressful period in their lives, had left no stone unturned to give them moral support. The repayment at the end of the exile period was this prouncement: “You are staying where you are staying simply because of us because of me and my father”. That brings us to what I mentioned in the beginning of this write-up. If you are not financially astute, you are a fool…. But if you are emotionally deprived, you are a dead piece of wood. And this girl has been living with pieces of wood, all her life!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Friday, July 06, 2007
Unmarked but branded>>>>>>>>>>>>
Today’s pseudo world makes one live a life of make-believe, so much so that one wonders where reality ends and the farce begins. We start believing in the reality of the farceness, so much so that we fail to even recognize the reality when it stares at us in the face.
Being natural, spontaneous and child-like goes with being part of the real world. Yet, right from the time a child understands the workings of the world, he is made to create a fictional world, where he is taught to say and do things he does not believe in. He is made to fit in a round hole, and the corners are rounded off, so that the square no longer remains a square. We all know it is wrong, we are doing something that is against nature, yet each one of us does it.
This world of make-believe becomes more real as one grows older and enters the corporate world. And God alone help you, if by sheer chance, you have managed to retain the corners, they have not been rounded-off, by well-meaning education systems, by concerned parents and the media. For then, what is left is a person unsullied by the system, but one who is left defenceless to face thriving politics, sycophancy, nepotism, hitching wagons to rising stars, and to understand the concept of ‘you scratch my back, I may scratch yours if it suits me’…
I know one such person. She talks first, thinks later. She does not put her foot in her mouth: she just never takes it out. She is not intimidated by authority; she respects it but would stand no nonsense from them. Result? Because she has got the temerity to say what she thinks is right, because she has got the grit to face up to truth and say it out aloud, without a false sense of respect for authority which keeps most of us silent. Becaue of this, she has got this very authority chasing her, wanting to cow her down. If it were not so serious, it would amuse me to see her taking people down to size. Unfortunately, I would not like her to be bundled out unceremoniously. So I set about doing what our systems do to our next generation: they bind them up in ropes of conformity, teach them the concept of white lie (A lie is a lie: when did it start being colourful?), tell her to stop being spontaneous, tell her not to laugh at jokes, which might strike her as funny, but the others might not, admonish her when she insists on proving the right is there for all to see, even for those who choose not to. The ways that I kill bits of her daily makes me feel like a slow murderer; but I need to: I need to teach her that life is going to thrash her black and blue, if she does not learn the tricks of the trade. And better that I disillusion her slowly, than that she learns the lessons the hard way. I know there are right ways and wrong ways to live in the world. I am not saying my way is right. But I have lived this way, and survived. So, I hope she learns.
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Roshni Apartments
1st Cross, Shastri Nagar
Adyar, Chennai- 600 020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
Being natural, spontaneous and child-like goes with being part of the real world. Yet, right from the time a child understands the workings of the world, he is made to create a fictional world, where he is taught to say and do things he does not believe in. He is made to fit in a round hole, and the corners are rounded off, so that the square no longer remains a square. We all know it is wrong, we are doing something that is against nature, yet each one of us does it.
This world of make-believe becomes more real as one grows older and enters the corporate world. And God alone help you, if by sheer chance, you have managed to retain the corners, they have not been rounded-off, by well-meaning education systems, by concerned parents and the media. For then, what is left is a person unsullied by the system, but one who is left defenceless to face thriving politics, sycophancy, nepotism, hitching wagons to rising stars, and to understand the concept of ‘you scratch my back, I may scratch yours if it suits me’…
I know one such person. She talks first, thinks later. She does not put her foot in her mouth: she just never takes it out. She is not intimidated by authority; she respects it but would stand no nonsense from them. Result? Because she has got the temerity to say what she thinks is right, because she has got the grit to face up to truth and say it out aloud, without a false sense of respect for authority which keeps most of us silent. Becaue of this, she has got this very authority chasing her, wanting to cow her down. If it were not so serious, it would amuse me to see her taking people down to size. Unfortunately, I would not like her to be bundled out unceremoniously. So I set about doing what our systems do to our next generation: they bind them up in ropes of conformity, teach them the concept of white lie (A lie is a lie: when did it start being colourful?), tell her to stop being spontaneous, tell her not to laugh at jokes, which might strike her as funny, but the others might not, admonish her when she insists on proving the right is there for all to see, even for those who choose not to. The ways that I kill bits of her daily makes me feel like a slow murderer; but I need to: I need to teach her that life is going to thrash her black and blue, if she does not learn the tricks of the trade. And better that I disillusion her slowly, than that she learns the lessons the hard way. I know there are right ways and wrong ways to live in the world. I am not saying my way is right. But I have lived this way, and survived. So, I hope she learns.
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Roshni Apartments
1st Cross, Shastri Nagar
Adyar, Chennai- 600 020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
Choosing your cooking oil>>>>>>>>>.
A friend of mine asked me the other day whether I had seen an advertisement for a cooking oil, which showed the housewife having visions of her husband collapsing because of a heart problem; It becomes the deciding factor for her to choose the oil being advertised, which claimed to do away with cholesterol, plaque formation etc.
The USP of the advertisement is not the subject of rumination here. Why it that there is no cooking oil advertisements, which show the housewife getting a heart attack, and then she deciding that her life is very important, and thus makes that the reason for choosing a brand? If she buys a particular brand of aata, or say even salt, it is for her children; if it is cooking oil, it is for her husband. Where does she figure in all this?
Forget the advertisement agencies, I have seen men, who declare that they cannot eat a certain item, or smoke too much as ‘the wife would object’. Or, worse, he would grudgingly go to the gym or do his workout, simply because he would have to face his wife otherwise! Well, if they behave like kids, no wonder the wives have to treat them like one!
How sold are we on the age old notion that a woman comes last in her list of priorities, and decision making factors! Is it because the advertisements are cashing in on her naturally nurturing tendencies to sell their product? If so, where does this natural urge go when it comes to looking after herself? How come she does not take care of her physical and emotional well-being?
The naturally servile home-makers are up from dawn to dusk, catering to the whims and fancies of all the individuals in the household, and later when she comes to bed, she finds the son pummeling the father’s back. (Yet another advertisement!) Immediately, she jumps up, offering to rub his back for him. The husband likes it, and lets her do it; because it has been drilled into her psyche to be like that.
My friend, a postgraduate in physics, is the pillar of her household; because if she is sick even for a day, the whole well-oiled household comes to a standstill. Breakfast does not reach the table on time; The washing machine does not beep; (why even the servant does not turn up!) The meals have to be done in a particular way, no short-cuts there, and the dishes have to vary. There are no allowances for changing times, and I was surprised she at least had an electric grinder. But then, she was allowing all this to happen; the only outlet was her occasional outbursts when she would call me, and then, taking advantage of her state of mind, I would urge her to set aside just a couple of hours which would belong to her and her alone.
I finally succeeded, when I was able to coax her to come with me to read for the blind twice a week. The first day she came, she had to make sure everything was on the table for all the members of the family. I was wondering whether she would come for the next session, for only when she went home would she have found out how they managed without her for a couple of hours!!
It was a small victory for me when I saw her waiting for me at the end of the road today, ready to go for the session! She had decided that she could take that couple of hours off from the family, just for herself – she was important enough in her life for that…
“I felt so nice the whole of that evening, I decided come what may, I am going to continue” she said, as she sat on the scooter behind me.
I wish more women would start thinking this way. It is never too late – never too late to stop making bajjis for fussy children, fresh coffee from just prepared coffee decoction for bored in-laws, healthy snacks for nitpicking husbands, and decide that they can have sometime that belongs only to them. And choose to do something that is emotionally satisfying, and fulfilling, rather than simply daily chores. I wish more women would decide that they are important in this world, and the space that they occupy belongs to them – and that they have every right to be there.
The USP of the advertisement is not the subject of rumination here. Why it that there is no cooking oil advertisements, which show the housewife getting a heart attack, and then she deciding that her life is very important, and thus makes that the reason for choosing a brand? If she buys a particular brand of aata, or say even salt, it is for her children; if it is cooking oil, it is for her husband. Where does she figure in all this?
Forget the advertisement agencies, I have seen men, who declare that they cannot eat a certain item, or smoke too much as ‘the wife would object’. Or, worse, he would grudgingly go to the gym or do his workout, simply because he would have to face his wife otherwise! Well, if they behave like kids, no wonder the wives have to treat them like one!
How sold are we on the age old notion that a woman comes last in her list of priorities, and decision making factors! Is it because the advertisements are cashing in on her naturally nurturing tendencies to sell their product? If so, where does this natural urge go when it comes to looking after herself? How come she does not take care of her physical and emotional well-being?
The naturally servile home-makers are up from dawn to dusk, catering to the whims and fancies of all the individuals in the household, and later when she comes to bed, she finds the son pummeling the father’s back. (Yet another advertisement!) Immediately, she jumps up, offering to rub his back for him. The husband likes it, and lets her do it; because it has been drilled into her psyche to be like that.
My friend, a postgraduate in physics, is the pillar of her household; because if she is sick even for a day, the whole well-oiled household comes to a standstill. Breakfast does not reach the table on time; The washing machine does not beep; (why even the servant does not turn up!) The meals have to be done in a particular way, no short-cuts there, and the dishes have to vary. There are no allowances for changing times, and I was surprised she at least had an electric grinder. But then, she was allowing all this to happen; the only outlet was her occasional outbursts when she would call me, and then, taking advantage of her state of mind, I would urge her to set aside just a couple of hours which would belong to her and her alone.
I finally succeeded, when I was able to coax her to come with me to read for the blind twice a week. The first day she came, she had to make sure everything was on the table for all the members of the family. I was wondering whether she would come for the next session, for only when she went home would she have found out how they managed without her for a couple of hours!!
It was a small victory for me when I saw her waiting for me at the end of the road today, ready to go for the session! She had decided that she could take that couple of hours off from the family, just for herself – she was important enough in her life for that…
“I felt so nice the whole of that evening, I decided come what may, I am going to continue” she said, as she sat on the scooter behind me.
I wish more women would start thinking this way. It is never too late – never too late to stop making bajjis for fussy children, fresh coffee from just prepared coffee decoction for bored in-laws, healthy snacks for nitpicking husbands, and decide that they can have sometime that belongs only to them. And choose to do something that is emotionally satisfying, and fulfilling, rather than simply daily chores. I wish more women would decide that they are important in this world, and the space that they occupy belongs to them – and that they have every right to be there.
Protective gear for life
“Wear helmets, save your head” screamed the banners from all over the city. News items which involved death due to accidents make it a point to mention that the victims were not wearing helmets. However careless an erring driver, he would have a reason to escape from the fact that he was in the wrong, if the person he had rammed into had not been wearing a helmet, hence he paid a price for it. The fact that he was on the wrong side of the road, ceases to hold any weight – the fact that the victim was not wearing a helmet gains importance. The law tries all kinds of media to make sure that the zippers across the road knew the dangers of high throttle of the bikes they were riding, and that the head needed to be protected from any untoward incident.
How very convenient it would be, if every part of our anatomy, not only our head, had such an armour to shield itself ! You know what I am talking about ? yeah you are right, the supersensitive heart ! The heart that houses all our feelings, our hurts, our emotions, our joys and our intense pains - pain which is sometimes even more than the physical pain of a heart attack, when one feels like being run through a sugarcane machine. If only we had some gear which we could don, that would help us protect ourselves from all the barbs that are flying around, and that manages to find its target if one happens to be in the vicinity, is unprotected and vulnerable.
Just like a rider who is riding his bike and crashes, with his helmet hung on his bike handle, many of us willingly invite trouble. We are taught time and again, that we should take people as they come, we should stop expecting them to fit into some mould that we have prepared for them, we should let bygones be bygones… The list of shoulds is never-ending. Yet for all these maxims, when it comes to the dart, it chooses its mark – and how accurately ! And the darts that hurt the most are the ones that come from a quiver close to you… The statutory warning can never work in such cases. Just like it never works for the erring bike-rider; and he, not the oncoming vehicle’s driver is blamed for the accident. He never meant to hurt you, you choose to get hurt, they console you.
There are all kinds of people in this world, and if you start being so sensitive to whatever they tell you, you will only be responsible for all the unhappiness in your life. Another maxim. Sounds very fair and practical. But are matters of the heart ever fair ? and practical ? You tend to lax, you tend to have your defenses down at times, like the rider with his helmet on his bike; and wham! There it comes … when you least expect it, from the quarter you least thought it would originate from. Poisoned arrows, barbs, that makes your heart bleed silently, not so much the fact the wound being deep, as the knowledge that hurts, that the source of the hurt is your own…. Like the regret that the rider has, who was more keen on protecting his bike handle, than his own head !
How very convenient it would be, if every part of our anatomy, not only our head, had such an armour to shield itself ! You know what I am talking about ? yeah you are right, the supersensitive heart ! The heart that houses all our feelings, our hurts, our emotions, our joys and our intense pains - pain which is sometimes even more than the physical pain of a heart attack, when one feels like being run through a sugarcane machine. If only we had some gear which we could don, that would help us protect ourselves from all the barbs that are flying around, and that manages to find its target if one happens to be in the vicinity, is unprotected and vulnerable.
Just like a rider who is riding his bike and crashes, with his helmet hung on his bike handle, many of us willingly invite trouble. We are taught time and again, that we should take people as they come, we should stop expecting them to fit into some mould that we have prepared for them, we should let bygones be bygones… The list of shoulds is never-ending. Yet for all these maxims, when it comes to the dart, it chooses its mark – and how accurately ! And the darts that hurt the most are the ones that come from a quiver close to you… The statutory warning can never work in such cases. Just like it never works for the erring bike-rider; and he, not the oncoming vehicle’s driver is blamed for the accident. He never meant to hurt you, you choose to get hurt, they console you.
There are all kinds of people in this world, and if you start being so sensitive to whatever they tell you, you will only be responsible for all the unhappiness in your life. Another maxim. Sounds very fair and practical. But are matters of the heart ever fair ? and practical ? You tend to lax, you tend to have your defenses down at times, like the rider with his helmet on his bike; and wham! There it comes … when you least expect it, from the quarter you least thought it would originate from. Poisoned arrows, barbs, that makes your heart bleed silently, not so much the fact the wound being deep, as the knowledge that hurts, that the source of the hurt is your own…. Like the regret that the rider has, who was more keen on protecting his bike handle, than his own head !
Students extra special>>>>>>>>>>>
I picked up the telephone when it rang, and the voice at the other end wished me a cheerful good morning. He was a student I read to regularly, and he was having his examinations round the corner. Could he come over for some help ? Of course, I told him, and started to reel off my address – then paused. How will he take it down ? I stopped but he asked me to continue. How will you write it Dharma, I asked him. You tell me madam, I can memorise it, he said. I, suitably humbled at doubting his ability to be independent, reeled off the bus numbers and the address to my place. He thanked me and rang off, promising to be at my place at the dot of twelve the next day. I then remembered how he fed in my telephone number into his mobile the other day, refusing my help to do so, saying he could do it himself. But to make me feel better (!) he showed me the number and asked me to check whether it was correct !!!
I remembered, when I had to read Wordsworth, a very visual poet, to him and his friends, I was constantly faltering for words, which would not convey the usage of the sense of sight. How would they understand? They had never known what it is to see. They would not know the concept of the rainbow across the sky, and how the poet feels when he sees a host of golden daffodils. The poet could reproduce the visual imagery of the daffodils in his mind’s eye, when he was in a vacant or a pensive mood; that is because he had gathered the actual, physical visuals. How do I explain that to these boys ?
I need’nt have worried; They were able to get the essence of the beauty of nature. They could feel it, they said. Their enjoyment of the poem somehow seemed deeper than a sighted person. Rossetti’s bereaved lover from the heaven was able to communicate with them better and convey her sorrow to them better than to any reader, I felt, when one of them remarked “ Madam, how is the poet able to visualize so much about heaven, when he has not even seen the place ?” This was only a poem, I wanted to tell him. You are living your entire life, creating visuals of the world based purely on the other four senses that you have, of relating to this world.
Every time I came back from a reading session, I marveled at these determined boys, who were progressing on the path of education, not letting a mere lack of vision daunt them in any way. They did not even have proper text books to study from; yet I have not heard one of them complaining. I have seen them waiting patiently, for a reader to come over and open the world of knowledge to them. Living without vision was a way of life which we might not even imagine. What we take so much for granted, our vision, is something they too have taken for granted: not having it.
Never though, did they raise a feeling of compassion or sympathy for themselves; you cannot pity someone who is so much stronger than you in strength of character, and in their spirit of determination; you cannot feel sorry for one who refuses help with dignity, but can also accept it gracefully, without a false sense of self-worth.
How many of us even stop to count our blessings ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Ist cross
Shastrinagar
Adyar, Chennai 600020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
I remembered, when I had to read Wordsworth, a very visual poet, to him and his friends, I was constantly faltering for words, which would not convey the usage of the sense of sight. How would they understand? They had never known what it is to see. They would not know the concept of the rainbow across the sky, and how the poet feels when he sees a host of golden daffodils. The poet could reproduce the visual imagery of the daffodils in his mind’s eye, when he was in a vacant or a pensive mood; that is because he had gathered the actual, physical visuals. How do I explain that to these boys ?
I need’nt have worried; They were able to get the essence of the beauty of nature. They could feel it, they said. Their enjoyment of the poem somehow seemed deeper than a sighted person. Rossetti’s bereaved lover from the heaven was able to communicate with them better and convey her sorrow to them better than to any reader, I felt, when one of them remarked “ Madam, how is the poet able to visualize so much about heaven, when he has not even seen the place ?” This was only a poem, I wanted to tell him. You are living your entire life, creating visuals of the world based purely on the other four senses that you have, of relating to this world.
Every time I came back from a reading session, I marveled at these determined boys, who were progressing on the path of education, not letting a mere lack of vision daunt them in any way. They did not even have proper text books to study from; yet I have not heard one of them complaining. I have seen them waiting patiently, for a reader to come over and open the world of knowledge to them. Living without vision was a way of life which we might not even imagine. What we take so much for granted, our vision, is something they too have taken for granted: not having it.
Never though, did they raise a feeling of compassion or sympathy for themselves; you cannot pity someone who is so much stronger than you in strength of character, and in their spirit of determination; you cannot feel sorry for one who refuses help with dignity, but can also accept it gracefully, without a false sense of self-worth.
How many of us even stop to count our blessings ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Ist cross
Shastrinagar
Adyar, Chennai 600020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
Rethink on HR
After a recent bereavement in the family, there was a lot that was happening, that made me do a rethink on human relationships.
Though I have written time and again on this ageless topic, on the concept of familial ties, and the resultant agony certain self-appointed judges cause, each time something like this happens in one’s life, we pause to reflect on the utter double standards human society thrives on.
The human society is tied together by threads of social obligations, conventions and norms. To a large extent, it is a very important facet of existence of a civilized society. But to what extent do we take this farce? To the extent that one feels it will help maintain a relationship on a superficial level, to the extent that it is necessary, even mandatory to carry on a relationship on a decent footing. But what does one do, when even basic courtesies are overridden, simply because it does not suit them? Let me explain.
Someone I know lost a relative from her in-laws’ side. The circumstance of the demise was pretty unpleasant, and this lady was hardly able to recover from the shock, when she was accused of hiding the ‘facts’ of the death from the family. They were being treated very shabbily, they felt, simply because it had been relegated to a secret that had taken the proportion of a skeleton in the cupboard. The situation would have been funny, if it had not been so tragic! Here was this lady, trying to hold her wits about her, struggling to form some sense of what was happening in her life, holding her family together in the face of such a tragedy. But there was more to come. One family came visiting, and when questioned as to why they had not been in touch and not even offered a word of solace to the girl stunned by the turn of events, all they had to say was, that they were not used to giving ‘false statements of condolences’. What a lame statement to make covering their inadequacy at ‘social skills’!! She had seen ample evidence of it, their smooth conversational abilities on countless occasions, and it sounded hollow that they would deter from the normal words of comfort to a girl, a part of the family, to whom it would have come as a life saver, given the circumstances of the death. That is what I meant, when I said how subjective the extent of maintenance of social decorum is.
What had sparked off the antagonism was apparently the fact that this lady, a writer by profession had written a piece, which mourned the senseless waste of a life, and the agony it had left behind. This manifestation of her pain on paper did its rounds in the family circles, thanks to another very obliging relative, who happened to chance upon the write-up, and who made sure that all and sundry in the family had a chance to read it. (Her publicity agent ? I wonder!) All hell broke loose; the family did a further postmortem and decided that they had to blacklist her from their family. Reason? There was no need for you to write, they said. Writing had been, and still is her soul. She could not refrain from it, as much as she could not stop breathing. These self-appointed juries decided they had the right to pass a ruling – and did so. But when she came to know about it, it only fired her passion for the pen all the more. And wasn’t it ironical? This very relative was responsible for egging her to take up writing !
Chances are that this piece might also be seen and passed around… chances are there might be vituperative mails or even visits with a longer list of accusations…..
Why this article? Simple. The lady is none other than yours truly!
Mohana Narayanan
Though I have written time and again on this ageless topic, on the concept of familial ties, and the resultant agony certain self-appointed judges cause, each time something like this happens in one’s life, we pause to reflect on the utter double standards human society thrives on.
The human society is tied together by threads of social obligations, conventions and norms. To a large extent, it is a very important facet of existence of a civilized society. But to what extent do we take this farce? To the extent that one feels it will help maintain a relationship on a superficial level, to the extent that it is necessary, even mandatory to carry on a relationship on a decent footing. But what does one do, when even basic courtesies are overridden, simply because it does not suit them? Let me explain.
Someone I know lost a relative from her in-laws’ side. The circumstance of the demise was pretty unpleasant, and this lady was hardly able to recover from the shock, when she was accused of hiding the ‘facts’ of the death from the family. They were being treated very shabbily, they felt, simply because it had been relegated to a secret that had taken the proportion of a skeleton in the cupboard. The situation would have been funny, if it had not been so tragic! Here was this lady, trying to hold her wits about her, struggling to form some sense of what was happening in her life, holding her family together in the face of such a tragedy. But there was more to come. One family came visiting, and when questioned as to why they had not been in touch and not even offered a word of solace to the girl stunned by the turn of events, all they had to say was, that they were not used to giving ‘false statements of condolences’. What a lame statement to make covering their inadequacy at ‘social skills’!! She had seen ample evidence of it, their smooth conversational abilities on countless occasions, and it sounded hollow that they would deter from the normal words of comfort to a girl, a part of the family, to whom it would have come as a life saver, given the circumstances of the death. That is what I meant, when I said how subjective the extent of maintenance of social decorum is.
What had sparked off the antagonism was apparently the fact that this lady, a writer by profession had written a piece, which mourned the senseless waste of a life, and the agony it had left behind. This manifestation of her pain on paper did its rounds in the family circles, thanks to another very obliging relative, who happened to chance upon the write-up, and who made sure that all and sundry in the family had a chance to read it. (Her publicity agent ? I wonder!) All hell broke loose; the family did a further postmortem and decided that they had to blacklist her from their family. Reason? There was no need for you to write, they said. Writing had been, and still is her soul. She could not refrain from it, as much as she could not stop breathing. These self-appointed juries decided they had the right to pass a ruling – and did so. But when she came to know about it, it only fired her passion for the pen all the more. And wasn’t it ironical? This very relative was responsible for egging her to take up writing !
Chances are that this piece might also be seen and passed around… chances are there might be vituperative mails or even visits with a longer list of accusations…..
Why this article? Simple. The lady is none other than yours truly!
Mohana Narayanan
24 hour hotline no>>>>>>>>>>>
You have agencies with a 24-hour hotline number, which you can call when you feel suicidal. They talk to you and bring you out of your desperation, and then maybe take you on for further counseling. No layman is qualified to know whether the person sitting next to him is feeling suicidal or not, and the same applies to a member of his or her family. The person who takes his life is does so in momentary madness; and if courage accompanies the momentary madness, the suicide attempt is successful (other things being conducive). He is no longer in a position to think in a sane manner, either about the repercussions the others would face, or the way the family would handle the issue.So he cannot be blamed, unless it is for lack of courage to live. But once he is away and gone, and then the blame game starts.
The immediate family starts questioning – why ? where did we go wrong ?
The extended family dons the mantle of a moral judge – You are to blame. The closer you are to the deceased, the better the chances that you are made responsible for the act.
What prompts them I wonder, to take this stance of passing judgements, without knowing what had happened ? This gentleman goes and decides to die, and his family is shell-shocked. They are running around, hoping that they would not have ugly scenes, and so avoid talking about it totally.The immediate family wanted him to at least have the dignity of his going not being ripped threadbare. He had decided to go, so he went. But the ones left behind decided to do a postmortem – of the man’s life, of his relationships, and of his motives.So they decided to make him the subject of dinner table conversations, and family meetings were arranged to discuss the issue threadbare - discuss without having any facts on hand. They decided that because they were not included into the dastardly secret of his death, they were ‘terribly hurt’. And so they decided that they would no longer be available as a family to the trauma-ridden son.
Their hurt of being kept out of the secret was apparently more than that the utter horror and trauma of the daughter-in-law, who was the sole witness to the act. They decided that they did not want to have anything to do with this family, where the father goes ahead and ends his life, without a thought about what would follow. They did not want to think that they could have, in any way contributed to the depression that may have set off this man to do what he did. When he had, in one of his weaker moments confessed to his son, how disappointed he was in the extended family – in his brother who refused to have him at his place for a couple of weeks; in his nephews who had become so busy in their lives they had no time for an old man like him; in his elder son, who had, without so much a thought, left him to fend for himself; the son never thought of passing the buck and letting them stew in the regret and in the aftermath of having failed to meet expectations of an aging man, whom they had respected – or so they claimed. The son only defended them saying they all had their own problems and their own lives. His failing health had been the last straw on the camel’s back; and he chose to go.
To come to the beginning of this piece, are there agencies that counsel families that indulge in this blame game, believe that the survivors are responsible for the act, and to tell them how wrong they are when they feel that they have to don the mantle of a judge ?
I wonder how the moral judges would have reacted, if they only knew how much they too were responsible ? They proclaimed that they were ‘very hurt because they were not let in on the details of the death, and held both the sons responsible for their father’s death.’ They also did not ‘want any explanations’. How presumptious to think that they would get one ! I read somewhere, that there are no real targets in an emotional attack; it is usually a way for the attacker to redirect their uncomfortable feelings away from themselves. So, after a lot of self-talk and self-counselling, the son and his wife decided not to take this attack personally, and to be large-hearted enough to give the accusers the comfort that they had had an opportunity to shift their blame and ease their conscience…..
The immediate family starts questioning – why ? where did we go wrong ?
The extended family dons the mantle of a moral judge – You are to blame. The closer you are to the deceased, the better the chances that you are made responsible for the act.
What prompts them I wonder, to take this stance of passing judgements, without knowing what had happened ? This gentleman goes and decides to die, and his family is shell-shocked. They are running around, hoping that they would not have ugly scenes, and so avoid talking about it totally.The immediate family wanted him to at least have the dignity of his going not being ripped threadbare. He had decided to go, so he went. But the ones left behind decided to do a postmortem – of the man’s life, of his relationships, and of his motives.So they decided to make him the subject of dinner table conversations, and family meetings were arranged to discuss the issue threadbare - discuss without having any facts on hand. They decided that because they were not included into the dastardly secret of his death, they were ‘terribly hurt’. And so they decided that they would no longer be available as a family to the trauma-ridden son.
Their hurt of being kept out of the secret was apparently more than that the utter horror and trauma of the daughter-in-law, who was the sole witness to the act. They decided that they did not want to have anything to do with this family, where the father goes ahead and ends his life, without a thought about what would follow. They did not want to think that they could have, in any way contributed to the depression that may have set off this man to do what he did. When he had, in one of his weaker moments confessed to his son, how disappointed he was in the extended family – in his brother who refused to have him at his place for a couple of weeks; in his nephews who had become so busy in their lives they had no time for an old man like him; in his elder son, who had, without so much a thought, left him to fend for himself; the son never thought of passing the buck and letting them stew in the regret and in the aftermath of having failed to meet expectations of an aging man, whom they had respected – or so they claimed. The son only defended them saying they all had their own problems and their own lives. His failing health had been the last straw on the camel’s back; and he chose to go.
To come to the beginning of this piece, are there agencies that counsel families that indulge in this blame game, believe that the survivors are responsible for the act, and to tell them how wrong they are when they feel that they have to don the mantle of a judge ?
I wonder how the moral judges would have reacted, if they only knew how much they too were responsible ? They proclaimed that they were ‘very hurt because they were not let in on the details of the death, and held both the sons responsible for their father’s death.’ They also did not ‘want any explanations’. How presumptious to think that they would get one ! I read somewhere, that there are no real targets in an emotional attack; it is usually a way for the attacker to redirect their uncomfortable feelings away from themselves. So, after a lot of self-talk and self-counselling, the son and his wife decided not to take this attack personally, and to be large-hearted enough to give the accusers the comfort that they had had an opportunity to shift their blame and ease their conscience…..
The house was deathly quiet>>>>>>
The house was deathly quiet. I guess Emily Dickenson and the like knew what the phrase meant. I did not – till I entered the house and could hear the deafening silence.
He had gone – just a split second and he had crossed the boundaries. But before he went he left a baggage full of regrets, a house full of raw rage, rage that he thought he was in control all the time – and proved himself wrong.
He had been ailing a while now, but nothing that was not due to old age and atrophy. The ailment was more of the mind – the thoughts that did a wild summer dance in his chaotic mind, that said, I am all that there is to life –
Each blow to his strong opinion of what he thought was his existential world was a blow to his self-declared independence. His wife preceded him to the nether world – He was a mute spectator to something which was beyond his control.
His elder son, the apple of his eye left him for greener pastures – just like that – without any warning, without any sign of remorse that in his old age, he did not even ask for his bereaved father’s sanction for this action of his.
His prized asset, his body, his health started failing him. Each of his organ was a living time bomb; and he did not know it. Simply because he thought the doctor fraternity was not for him. Every action that was taken to save him was on the brink of failure, and his younger son and daughter-in-law fought a war to bring him back. Sheer obstinacy prevented him from telling them about his failing health. Failing eyesight one can handle; detect and per force take action. But a failing kidney? or a failing heart ? or any dying organ, deep within his body, which may have been just plain tired of his regimental attitude and emotions ? Something was corroding his very being from within. He looked healthy from the outside, but what was consuming him from within ? Nobody knew. He did not believe in sharing. All he believed in was shares.
Discipline was his second name. He carried it too far though. He carried it so far, that by the time his son and daughter in law could draw him back, they were exhausted with the effort of constant reprimands, requests to him to take life a little more slowly. With a failing heart functioning at a mere thirty percent, he had to give up what he liked to do most – walking.
But he decided to go walking. So against doctor’s advice, and when his daughter in law’s watchful eyes blinked for a second, he escaped – and walked to his death.
And left behind thoughts of how weak this strong man was. Thoughts of how cheated the survivors felt. Thoughts of sheer rage. The rage, that did not even allow them to grieve him with dignity which one would have thought they owed to him. And at times, pangs of guilt, that somewhere they had failed him.
He had the last word though. He left them with this feeling that they would remember him like this as long as they lived - and even after. Not with love, but with pain.
He had gone – just a split second and he had crossed the boundaries. But before he went he left a baggage full of regrets, a house full of raw rage, rage that he thought he was in control all the time – and proved himself wrong.
He had been ailing a while now, but nothing that was not due to old age and atrophy. The ailment was more of the mind – the thoughts that did a wild summer dance in his chaotic mind, that said, I am all that there is to life –
Each blow to his strong opinion of what he thought was his existential world was a blow to his self-declared independence. His wife preceded him to the nether world – He was a mute spectator to something which was beyond his control.
His elder son, the apple of his eye left him for greener pastures – just like that – without any warning, without any sign of remorse that in his old age, he did not even ask for his bereaved father’s sanction for this action of his.
His prized asset, his body, his health started failing him. Each of his organ was a living time bomb; and he did not know it. Simply because he thought the doctor fraternity was not for him. Every action that was taken to save him was on the brink of failure, and his younger son and daughter-in-law fought a war to bring him back. Sheer obstinacy prevented him from telling them about his failing health. Failing eyesight one can handle; detect and per force take action. But a failing kidney? or a failing heart ? or any dying organ, deep within his body, which may have been just plain tired of his regimental attitude and emotions ? Something was corroding his very being from within. He looked healthy from the outside, but what was consuming him from within ? Nobody knew. He did not believe in sharing. All he believed in was shares.
Discipline was his second name. He carried it too far though. He carried it so far, that by the time his son and daughter in law could draw him back, they were exhausted with the effort of constant reprimands, requests to him to take life a little more slowly. With a failing heart functioning at a mere thirty percent, he had to give up what he liked to do most – walking.
But he decided to go walking. So against doctor’s advice, and when his daughter in law’s watchful eyes blinked for a second, he escaped – and walked to his death.
And left behind thoughts of how weak this strong man was. Thoughts of how cheated the survivors felt. Thoughts of sheer rage. The rage, that did not even allow them to grieve him with dignity which one would have thought they owed to him. And at times, pangs of guilt, that somewhere they had failed him.
He had the last word though. He left them with this feeling that they would remember him like this as long as they lived - and even after. Not with love, but with pain.
Cross generations
Experience is the comb a wise man uses when he becomes bald, said someone. How true it should be, especially when one talks of generation gap, communication problems between two generations. But, unfortunately, the fact that the older generation has got a special comb to use does not make them see the fact that the younger generation has got a lot of hair on their heads!
How else do you explain the springing up of so many old age homes, households where there is constant bickering between the yesterdays and todays?
At the onset let me tell you, I have tremendous respect for grey hair (or a bald pate, as the case may be) and am willing to concede that they have a lot of leeway for their actions, simply because their process of atrophy is faster than that of the younger generation they live with.
But tell me, does one draw a line at doing what one has always been doing all their lives, so will continue to do so, whatever the circumstances, or does he or she try and see that time does not stand still, there are different perspectives to a situation and are willing to concede this fact?
This problem is not unique only to daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law (or fathers-in-law, as the case may be) though I must say that this problem is compounded in this particular relationship because of divergent backgrounds and families. This also happens between parents and children. The generation of today is facing more than double the stress of yesteryear; so it is more impatient, less tolerant and belligerent towards older people.
To give the devil its due, there are times when they hurt their roots, because they simply cannot display their aggression anywhere else.
But, because this situation is most common, that the younger generation is “expected to respect the elders, accept unquestioningly whatever they say, not to have a different opinion for themselves”, they are outright condemned as the party in fault whenever there is a dichotomy in this relationship.
But I have paused to wonder, has anyone ever thought of the fact that the parents could be equally responsible for what is happening to them? Because they are not willing to let go, insist on having only their way in a lot of issues, there is a battleground laid. There is confrontation: there are bitter words: and there is society waiting to say, see how ungrateful the children are!
Let me illustrate this: My friend lost her mother-in-law and had her father-in-law come and stay with her. She was only too happy to take care of him, and before he landed up at her place did her best she could to create a ‘space’ for him in her limited two-bedroom flat. She tried her best to follow his routine, for he lived by the clock.
But after living with him she realised she had a mammoth task ahead of her. She had to live with a living machine, who would insist on doing things just the way he liked. He would insist on having a bath just at the time when her daughter had to use the bathroom get ready for school. He would want to do his pooja just at the time when she had to dress up for school. If requested, he would nod his head, but continue to do exactly what he pleased.
He would drop snuff all over the place, insist on serving himself for lunch and dinner, and drop food all over. And to top it all, in spite of her best efforts at communication, he would barely acknowledge her presence. To the extent, that if there was someone at the door, he would just tell them she was not at home, and then when confronted, just say, he forgot she was at home!
He preferred having cold tea rather than ask her to heat it up for him! No amount of talking seemed any good. You might say, he was missing his wife, grieving for her, etc.
Yeah, I would agree to that if his behaviour had been the same with everyone. Visitors made him effusive, so much so, that the family members started saying that he was at his old self only when my friend was not around.
He would consume food which contained less salt, without asking for it, and when friends were over, he would complain that there had been no salt but he had had it anyway. When my friend’s parents were in town, he would barely talk to them, literally get up and walk away from the room when they were around.
Now I am not defending my friend, but suffice it to say that she is a warm human being, with a tremendous sense of duty. It kept her going. His non-interaction with his daughter-in-law filtered to his son also. He no longer even had normal conversation with him either, except to ask for the car, or ask to be dropped at his elder son’s place, whenever he felt he had to go there.
Though when my friend spoke to her husband about this issue, he was both a dutiful son and a loving husband. He sympathised with her, but told her that she had to speak to his father: he would not interfere, for though he understood her predicament perfectly, he knew how stubborn his father was and there would be no point telling him anything.
Any attempt at conversation, and his father would just get up and walk off or shut his eyes. Or worse still, switches on the TV! It is as if the son and his wife were responsible for his wife passing away. In retrospect, my friend’s mother-in-law, who had been full of life and people-oriented, must have never let this aspect of his personality come through as long as she lived by making up for his anti-social behaviour; she was always full of life, loved to be interacting with people and thought the world of her daughter- in- law.
My friend also knew this. So the story goes on. But that is not the point. The issue here is a battle of wills. How strong is your resilience against mine? My friend no longer talks to him on any issue, stays out of the house as much as possible, and when at home, is in her room. It is as if there are two strangers thrown together by fate so are trying to wait for time to provide a solution.
But the waiting is torturous for my friend, who is barely able to sustain her temper at times. She also hates herself for becoming what she has for that is not her. So it is a constant see-saw. He does not seem to be affected in any manner at the situation, for he is fully functional: he has his meals provided on time; he has his paper delivered to him, he as a room to himself, literally ousting his granddaughter, (with whom also he has minimum of interaction).
How does one blame the younger generation in this case? Who is to let go? Who is to understand? And who is to face the reality? That all along things cannot run his way but that there are other people who exist in this world besides him?
How else do you explain the springing up of so many old age homes, households where there is constant bickering between the yesterdays and todays?
At the onset let me tell you, I have tremendous respect for grey hair (or a bald pate, as the case may be) and am willing to concede that they have a lot of leeway for their actions, simply because their process of atrophy is faster than that of the younger generation they live with.
But tell me, does one draw a line at doing what one has always been doing all their lives, so will continue to do so, whatever the circumstances, or does he or she try and see that time does not stand still, there are different perspectives to a situation and are willing to concede this fact?
This problem is not unique only to daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law (or fathers-in-law, as the case may be) though I must say that this problem is compounded in this particular relationship because of divergent backgrounds and families. This also happens between parents and children. The generation of today is facing more than double the stress of yesteryear; so it is more impatient, less tolerant and belligerent towards older people.
To give the devil its due, there are times when they hurt their roots, because they simply cannot display their aggression anywhere else.
But, because this situation is most common, that the younger generation is “expected to respect the elders, accept unquestioningly whatever they say, not to have a different opinion for themselves”, they are outright condemned as the party in fault whenever there is a dichotomy in this relationship.
But I have paused to wonder, has anyone ever thought of the fact that the parents could be equally responsible for what is happening to them? Because they are not willing to let go, insist on having only their way in a lot of issues, there is a battleground laid. There is confrontation: there are bitter words: and there is society waiting to say, see how ungrateful the children are!
Let me illustrate this: My friend lost her mother-in-law and had her father-in-law come and stay with her. She was only too happy to take care of him, and before he landed up at her place did her best she could to create a ‘space’ for him in her limited two-bedroom flat. She tried her best to follow his routine, for he lived by the clock.
But after living with him she realised she had a mammoth task ahead of her. She had to live with a living machine, who would insist on doing things just the way he liked. He would insist on having a bath just at the time when her daughter had to use the bathroom get ready for school. He would want to do his pooja just at the time when she had to dress up for school. If requested, he would nod his head, but continue to do exactly what he pleased.
He would drop snuff all over the place, insist on serving himself for lunch and dinner, and drop food all over. And to top it all, in spite of her best efforts at communication, he would barely acknowledge her presence. To the extent, that if there was someone at the door, he would just tell them she was not at home, and then when confronted, just say, he forgot she was at home!
He preferred having cold tea rather than ask her to heat it up for him! No amount of talking seemed any good. You might say, he was missing his wife, grieving for her, etc.
Yeah, I would agree to that if his behaviour had been the same with everyone. Visitors made him effusive, so much so, that the family members started saying that he was at his old self only when my friend was not around.
He would consume food which contained less salt, without asking for it, and when friends were over, he would complain that there had been no salt but he had had it anyway. When my friend’s parents were in town, he would barely talk to them, literally get up and walk away from the room when they were around.
Now I am not defending my friend, but suffice it to say that she is a warm human being, with a tremendous sense of duty. It kept her going. His non-interaction with his daughter-in-law filtered to his son also. He no longer even had normal conversation with him either, except to ask for the car, or ask to be dropped at his elder son’s place, whenever he felt he had to go there.
Though when my friend spoke to her husband about this issue, he was both a dutiful son and a loving husband. He sympathised with her, but told her that she had to speak to his father: he would not interfere, for though he understood her predicament perfectly, he knew how stubborn his father was and there would be no point telling him anything.
Any attempt at conversation, and his father would just get up and walk off or shut his eyes. Or worse still, switches on the TV! It is as if the son and his wife were responsible for his wife passing away. In retrospect, my friend’s mother-in-law, who had been full of life and people-oriented, must have never let this aspect of his personality come through as long as she lived by making up for his anti-social behaviour; she was always full of life, loved to be interacting with people and thought the world of her daughter- in- law.
My friend also knew this. So the story goes on. But that is not the point. The issue here is a battle of wills. How strong is your resilience against mine? My friend no longer talks to him on any issue, stays out of the house as much as possible, and when at home, is in her room. It is as if there are two strangers thrown together by fate so are trying to wait for time to provide a solution.
But the waiting is torturous for my friend, who is barely able to sustain her temper at times. She also hates herself for becoming what she has for that is not her. So it is a constant see-saw. He does not seem to be affected in any manner at the situation, for he is fully functional: he has his meals provided on time; he has his paper delivered to him, he as a room to himself, literally ousting his granddaughter, (with whom also he has minimum of interaction).
How does one blame the younger generation in this case? Who is to let go? Who is to understand? And who is to face the reality? That all along things cannot run his way but that there are other people who exist in this world besides him?
Compulsive Affections???
A recent bill in the parliament spoke about a law where it was mandatory for children to take care of their aged parents. No doubt, a very commendable step by the government to make sure the senior citizens do not spend their twilight years at the mercy of their children. However, how much can a law instill those feelings of love and care in the children towards their parents, I wonder. Of course, it might force them to make sure that the senior citizens do not lack the bottom-most rung of the Need Pyramid of Maslow.
A son climbing up the corporate ladder may make sure that his parents have a roof over their heads, and two square meals a day. The higher-up corporates might even set them up in a separate apartment, so that ‘their lifestyles do not rub into each other”. They might make sure they have a daily maid so that the women folk are done with the drudgery of the kitchen. So you have both of them, in an empty apartment, with all the amenities no doubt, but just sitting and staring at each other the whole day. If they are TV addicts, then to a certain extent their boredom is taken care of !
Can the government make a law however, where it is compulsory for the son and his wife to spend some time with these aged souls?
Can the government make sure the grandchildren are not on hello and bye terms with these grandparents, who are just kissed on the grandparents’ day, once a year?
Can the government make a law wherein it is mandatory for the family to have at least one meal together everyday where the meal is not so important, as the togetherness?
Can the government also make a law, wherein the extended family, and not only the progeny, is compulsorily made to provide succour for their parents? I think what is lacking today, more than the physical needs, are the emotional needs. This cannot be always filled in by just the sons and the daughters. Lifestyle has changed today. Senior citizens have reached this age, after living in a joint family, or at least having strong family ties. Today’s nuclear families and values leave them shaken. That is what they need. What is popularly known today as ‘extended’ families, need to contribute to provide emotional support to the senior generation? Not just the son, the daughter-in-law and the grandchildren. Of course, the moral responsibility is theirs, but can the others in the family be a little more affectionate towards them? And not wait till the person passes away and then show their ‘affection’
I know of this senior gentleman, who was very independent by nature and by a stroke of luck, had to spend his last years in his son’s house, something that he never wanted to. So the son took up another flat in the same apartment, and provided him whatever Spartan needs the gentleman had. He was very happy, and the family would have their meals together; the daughter-in-law would insist on that. He had become a recluse and none in the family understood his pain – his pain of one of his son leaving him, his brother not willing to have him even as a visitor for a few days, and in the end, his failing health, a last blow. Depression had set in, but the younger generation was too busy to recognize the signs. Nobody from the extended family visited him, as he had become just a part of their past, though they claimed they had tremendous respect and admiration for him! His withdrawal was put to aging; the daughter-in-law’s pleas to the family, to try and convince him to get medical check-ups done, to have him over for a change, proved futile. He won’t listen, they would say. And they could do nothing further.
The son and his wife watched helplessly as he slowly sunk into oblivion. They managed to save him from going blind just in the nick of time, after the daughter-in-law literally dragged him to the doctor.
After he finally decided to give up living, the recriminations came – and they came hard and fast. Judgements on how the son had failed the father, etc. etc. Are senior citizens only your father and mother? The other elders in the family, whom you claim you respect and admire, do not merit your time and attention? More so, when, as an extended family, you claim that you were very fond of this person. Not that it ever showed. They would fly in and out of the city, never once visiting this man. And when he did, he was too late. He could see the shell that was left of this man. Maybe it was this guilt that he was not around sooner that made him throw back brickbats at the son about the way the father was handled?
In such a situation, how does one expect a law to instill care and concern in children’s hearts? Senior citizens are the roots one survives on; and they are not only your parents, but also all the others who have made you what you are today. No government decree can make one understand this fact; this has to be felt from within. How many of us are willing to face truth?
A son climbing up the corporate ladder may make sure that his parents have a roof over their heads, and two square meals a day. The higher-up corporates might even set them up in a separate apartment, so that ‘their lifestyles do not rub into each other”. They might make sure they have a daily maid so that the women folk are done with the drudgery of the kitchen. So you have both of them, in an empty apartment, with all the amenities no doubt, but just sitting and staring at each other the whole day. If they are TV addicts, then to a certain extent their boredom is taken care of !
Can the government make a law however, where it is compulsory for the son and his wife to spend some time with these aged souls?
Can the government make sure the grandchildren are not on hello and bye terms with these grandparents, who are just kissed on the grandparents’ day, once a year?
Can the government make a law wherein it is mandatory for the family to have at least one meal together everyday where the meal is not so important, as the togetherness?
Can the government also make a law, wherein the extended family, and not only the progeny, is compulsorily made to provide succour for their parents? I think what is lacking today, more than the physical needs, are the emotional needs. This cannot be always filled in by just the sons and the daughters. Lifestyle has changed today. Senior citizens have reached this age, after living in a joint family, or at least having strong family ties. Today’s nuclear families and values leave them shaken. That is what they need. What is popularly known today as ‘extended’ families, need to contribute to provide emotional support to the senior generation? Not just the son, the daughter-in-law and the grandchildren. Of course, the moral responsibility is theirs, but can the others in the family be a little more affectionate towards them? And not wait till the person passes away and then show their ‘affection’
I know of this senior gentleman, who was very independent by nature and by a stroke of luck, had to spend his last years in his son’s house, something that he never wanted to. So the son took up another flat in the same apartment, and provided him whatever Spartan needs the gentleman had. He was very happy, and the family would have their meals together; the daughter-in-law would insist on that. He had become a recluse and none in the family understood his pain – his pain of one of his son leaving him, his brother not willing to have him even as a visitor for a few days, and in the end, his failing health, a last blow. Depression had set in, but the younger generation was too busy to recognize the signs. Nobody from the extended family visited him, as he had become just a part of their past, though they claimed they had tremendous respect and admiration for him! His withdrawal was put to aging; the daughter-in-law’s pleas to the family, to try and convince him to get medical check-ups done, to have him over for a change, proved futile. He won’t listen, they would say. And they could do nothing further.
The son and his wife watched helplessly as he slowly sunk into oblivion. They managed to save him from going blind just in the nick of time, after the daughter-in-law literally dragged him to the doctor.
After he finally decided to give up living, the recriminations came – and they came hard and fast. Judgements on how the son had failed the father, etc. etc. Are senior citizens only your father and mother? The other elders in the family, whom you claim you respect and admire, do not merit your time and attention? More so, when, as an extended family, you claim that you were very fond of this person. Not that it ever showed. They would fly in and out of the city, never once visiting this man. And when he did, he was too late. He could see the shell that was left of this man. Maybe it was this guilt that he was not around sooner that made him throw back brickbats at the son about the way the father was handled?
In such a situation, how does one expect a law to instill care and concern in children’s hearts? Senior citizens are the roots one survives on; and they are not only your parents, but also all the others who have made you what you are today. No government decree can make one understand this fact; this has to be felt from within. How many of us are willing to face truth?
Saturday, March 03, 2007
The panic button
I dialed my residence number again from my office, wondering why my school- going daughter, who was supposed to be home an hour ago, was not picking up the phone. With each unanswered ring, the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach went deeper and deeper. Both the numbers went unanswered a countless number of times. I finally called the school, only to know that the van by which she travels back home everyday, has left at its usual time. The journey from school to home should not take more than 10 minutes; what had happened. Visions of unspoken fears swam before my eyes, as I dialed my neighbour’s number to find out if she had come home. I was hoping the telephones at home had suddenly decided to go out of order (Yeah I know both of them being so at the same time would be too much of a coincidence but when one is worried, one does not think logically.) I called her friend and requested her to cycle down home to find out if my daughter had reached. In the midst of all this, I kept calling home (my colleagues took turns in calling.)
Finally, on the second ring of the enth call, I heard my daughter’s voice; I was so relieved I could not talk to her, I just disconnected the phone. Relief washed over me, and I just broke down. How much one thinks of the worst possible scenario, in such situations. The argument of ‘it will not happen to me’ has never occurred to me in the worst of cases. I don’t think I was being paranoid; just being a worried mother, whose daughter had not reached home even after two hours of the expected time.
The call to the school was the one which was the culprit; I was informed that the van from the school had left on time, whereas it had waited and left only much later. My daughter had gone to the office to find out if she could make a phone call to let me know she would be late: but she was refused permission.
I guess doing so would have gone against the dictates of discipline in the school ? I don’t know. Inspite of offering to pay for the phone call, if the school authorities do not understand the difference between an urgent call and a whimsical one, then I am sure a lot many students will start carrying mobiles to school!
Whatever be the case, I am sure we have all waited in anxiety for a child to return home on time; and when they do not do so, fears of the worst kind play havoc with your imagination. In such cases, I hope the children make sure they let people know at home they are safe; and I hope authorities let them take this step, so that the children are encouraged to develop a sense of responsibility. And people at home, not just the mother, realize that the child who is supposed to reach home at a particular time has not done so, and make the required enquiries.
I guess all troubles in the world start when we stop short of making that tiny effort , take that little bit of extra trouble, to make the world a better place. Each one of us is so caught up in unnecessary nitty gritties of life, that we fail to see trouble brewing: or is it that we choose not to see ?
Finally, on the second ring of the enth call, I heard my daughter’s voice; I was so relieved I could not talk to her, I just disconnected the phone. Relief washed over me, and I just broke down. How much one thinks of the worst possible scenario, in such situations. The argument of ‘it will not happen to me’ has never occurred to me in the worst of cases. I don’t think I was being paranoid; just being a worried mother, whose daughter had not reached home even after two hours of the expected time.
The call to the school was the one which was the culprit; I was informed that the van from the school had left on time, whereas it had waited and left only much later. My daughter had gone to the office to find out if she could make a phone call to let me know she would be late: but she was refused permission.
I guess doing so would have gone against the dictates of discipline in the school ? I don’t know. Inspite of offering to pay for the phone call, if the school authorities do not understand the difference between an urgent call and a whimsical one, then I am sure a lot many students will start carrying mobiles to school!
Whatever be the case, I am sure we have all waited in anxiety for a child to return home on time; and when they do not do so, fears of the worst kind play havoc with your imagination. In such cases, I hope the children make sure they let people know at home they are safe; and I hope authorities let them take this step, so that the children are encouraged to develop a sense of responsibility. And people at home, not just the mother, realize that the child who is supposed to reach home at a particular time has not done so, and make the required enquiries.
I guess all troubles in the world start when we stop short of making that tiny effort , take that little bit of extra trouble, to make the world a better place. Each one of us is so caught up in unnecessary nitty gritties of life, that we fail to see trouble brewing: or is it that we choose not to see ?
THE SEE-SAW OF LIFE
It is so sad that one has to be taught how to live life these days – something that should come naturally to us, is made so difficult and complicated, that you have trainers to teach one how to indulge in natural, age-old habits, that has been lost in the existence of daily living. So you have trainers in soft-skills, which are nothing but simply how to be courteous, chivalrous, respectful and sensitive to a fellow being. You have trainers in life-skills, which teach one how to be successful, set goals, be motivated, and all the rest of it all, which simply follows Maslow’s Theory of Needs! Satisfy your basic needs and move on the the rung higher automatically.
Then you also have people teaching you the natural, simple art of breathing – yes, we all have realized that what we used to do naturally and rightly as a child, is something that we have forgotten to do so when we grow up, resulting in unhandalable stress. So we go back to school again, only this time to learn what we had been doing right all along, but unlearnt, simply because we complicated our lives with a lot of no-good factors, instead of retaining the feel-good factors.
I met a human resource gentleman, who was complaining about how insensitive his managers had become. He wanted me to hold a couple of training sessions, to teach the managers to be sensitive, caring, in short become ‘good human beings’. It amuses me to think that what comes naturally to us when we are born – to smile a baby’s smile, to laugh without emcumberances, to show happiness or cry when one feels like –are all natural instincts which are hidden or lost beneath a veneer of social adaptabilities. One learns to put on a false appearance, don the role of the career player one has chosen, and live the role with the characterstics that go with it. One becomes the stern disciplinarian, the unflinching boss, the unadaptable manager. It is essential, one justifies, if you have to deal with the people who work under you. You cannot afford to be soft – you have to take a stand, otherwise people will walk rough-shod over you. So you spend half your life, becoming what you have become – and then somewhere down the line, someone realizes that you are no longer ‘human’. You are no longer ‘sensitive’. So they run a training programme, to discover the ‘human qualities’ in you, and you are implored (or ordered, depending on the hierarchy where you fit in !) to deal more sensitively with the other human beings.
Is this metamorphosis possible I wonder ? Why do we go to so much trouble to don a leaden mantle, only to be told later, that it no longer fits us, and that we should try another ? Have we become mere puppets in the hands of the working corporates, who dish out personality types, and we scuttle into these garments, simply because we need to live a life which is false, pseudo and non-gratifying ? Where did the sensitivity of the managers go ? If he was sensitive to the travails of another human being in the first place, he should have never lost it. If he has,then life has moulded him to adapt this tough stance, if he had to survive in the jungle. At one point in time, it may even have been responsible for getting him the laurels and reaching him to the position he is today. Though what price he paid for it, is something only he would be able to judge – maybe his ability to be a sensitive human being, for starters! So how do we make him unlearn again what he has learnt , to survive?
It is so sad that one has to be taught how to live life these days – something that should come naturally to us, is made so difficult and complicated, that you have trainers to teach one how to indulge in natural, age-old habits, that has been lost in the existence of daily living. So you have trainers in soft-skills, which are nothing but simply how to be courteous, chivalrous, respectful and sensitive to a fellow being. You have trainers in life-skills, which teach one how to be successful, set goals, be motivated, and all the rest of it all, which simply follows Maslow’s Theory of Needs! Satisfy your basic needs and move on the the rung higher automatically.
Then you also have people teaching you the natural, simple art of breathing – yes, we all have realized that what we used to do naturally and rightly as a child, is something that we have forgotten to do so when we grow up, resulting in unhandalable stress. So we go back to school again, only this time to learn what we had been doing right all along, but unlearnt, simply because we complicated our lives with a lot of no-good factors, instead of retaining the feel-good factors.
I met a human resource gentleman, who was complaining about how insensitive his managers had become. He wanted me to hold a couple of training sessions, to teach the managers to be sensitive, caring, in short become ‘good human beings’. It amuses me to think that what comes naturally to us when we are born – to smile a baby’s smile, to laugh without emcumberances, to show happiness or cry when one feels like –are all natural instincts which are hidden or lost beneath a veneer of social adaptabilities. One learns to put on a false appearance, don the role of the career player one has chosen, and live the role with the characterstics that go with it. One becomes the stern disciplinarian, the unflinching boss, the unadaptable manager. It is essential, one justifies, if you have to deal with the people who work under you. You cannot afford to be soft – you have to take a stand, otherwise people will walk rough-shod over you. So you spend half your life, becoming what you have become – and then somewhere down the line, someone realizes that you are no longer ‘human’. You are no longer ‘sensitive’. So they run a training programme, to discover the ‘human qualities’ in you, and you are implored (or ordered, depending on the hierarchy where you fit in !) to deal more sensitively with the other human beings.
Is this metamorphosis possible I wonder ? Why do we go to so much trouble to don a leaden mantle, only to be told later, that it no longer fits us, and that we should try another ? Have we become mere puppets in the hands of the working corporates, who dish out personality types, and we scuttle into these garments, simply because we need to live a life which is false, pseudo and non-gratifying ? Where did the sensitivity of the managers go ? If he was sensitive to the travails of another human being in the first place, he should have never lost it. If he has,then life has moulded him to adapt this tough stance, if he had to survive in the jungle. At one point in time, it may even have been responsible for getting him the laurels and reaching him to the position he is today. Though what price he paid for it, is something only he would be able to judge – maybe his ability to be a sensitive human being, for starters! So how do we make him unlearn again what he has learnt , to survive?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
THE MICRO WORLD
The marvels of the present electronic age would turn out to be a visit to a fantasy land for the people of the early twentieth century. Why, as late as the 1960s, I remember the sheer wonder and amazement on the faces of the family members, when my father brought home a portable radio, which he said, was called a transistor. When we would get up in the morning, it was a ceremony, switching it on to listen to music. Anything would do, even a rural programme, or events of the day, recited by a monotonous voice.
Fast forward to half a century later. We have music all over the world at our fingertips, at the touch of a button – we have access to live programmes from all over the world through the amazing video conferencing facility. You have the music systems becoming smaller and smaller, till they fit into the palm of your hand, as you keep pace with the daily development of technology. You talk to anyone at the flick of a mobile key, exchange notes, send mail, photographs, view each other across eons of space through a webcam – the possibilities are endless.
Or are they ? Have we not become too micro-oriented ? Have we not become so ‘within’ ourselves, that the larger picture is lost ? Are we becoming so caught up in the ‘smallness’ of things that this is permeating into the other aspects of our lives ? The instruments have shrunk in size, keeping in mind convenience and portability – but so have the thoughts.
Where has gone the family get-togethers, the social visits (visits for no apparent reason, just plain good old courtesy which again is an antique phenomenon today!), or the pleasure of viewing family albums together ? Forget the act, does the word ‘together’ have any meaning at all ? Children at home are communicating with the computer in their free time, visiting chat rooms and communities and exchanging notes over the system. Couples are no longer sitting with each other over a cup of tea, exchanging notes of the day – they are busy channel surfing, or having a ‘baby’ computer (as an aunt of mine called a laptop) at their disposal, catching up on figures and targets – Or maybe, simply sending each other a mail, since they have not had time to talk ! I have very often seen people walking together on the road, but each on is holding on to one ear ! Or worse still, you have the solitary walkers, whom you find talking to themselves, till you observe closely and fine a wire trailing out of one of their ear, and you realize he is not demented or hallucinating after all, but is simply holding on a conversation with perhaps someone at the other end of the world !
I have an uneasy feeling that by the end of it all, what is going to be the casualty is the warmth of human relationships. Would not that be too great a price to pay for the conveniences and amenities of today ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Roshni Apartments
1st Cross, Shastri Nagar
Adyar, Chennai- 600 020
Tel No 24469391
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
19-Oct-05
Fast forward to half a century later. We have music all over the world at our fingertips, at the touch of a button – we have access to live programmes from all over the world through the amazing video conferencing facility. You have the music systems becoming smaller and smaller, till they fit into the palm of your hand, as you keep pace with the daily development of technology. You talk to anyone at the flick of a mobile key, exchange notes, send mail, photographs, view each other across eons of space through a webcam – the possibilities are endless.
Or are they ? Have we not become too micro-oriented ? Have we not become so ‘within’ ourselves, that the larger picture is lost ? Are we becoming so caught up in the ‘smallness’ of things that this is permeating into the other aspects of our lives ? The instruments have shrunk in size, keeping in mind convenience and portability – but so have the thoughts.
Where has gone the family get-togethers, the social visits (visits for no apparent reason, just plain good old courtesy which again is an antique phenomenon today!), or the pleasure of viewing family albums together ? Forget the act, does the word ‘together’ have any meaning at all ? Children at home are communicating with the computer in their free time, visiting chat rooms and communities and exchanging notes over the system. Couples are no longer sitting with each other over a cup of tea, exchanging notes of the day – they are busy channel surfing, or having a ‘baby’ computer (as an aunt of mine called a laptop) at their disposal, catching up on figures and targets – Or maybe, simply sending each other a mail, since they have not had time to talk ! I have very often seen people walking together on the road, but each on is holding on to one ear ! Or worse still, you have the solitary walkers, whom you find talking to themselves, till you observe closely and fine a wire trailing out of one of their ear, and you realize he is not demented or hallucinating after all, but is simply holding on a conversation with perhaps someone at the other end of the world !
I have an uneasy feeling that by the end of it all, what is going to be the casualty is the warmth of human relationships. Would not that be too great a price to pay for the conveniences and amenities of today ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Roshni Apartments
1st Cross, Shastri Nagar
Adyar, Chennai- 600 020
Tel No 24469391
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
19-Oct-05
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