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Our families have always been our biggest influence. In this post, the writer talks of ways how do families shape who we are.
Our families have always been our biggest influence. In this post, the writer talks of ways in which our families shape who we are.
The topic of dysfunctional families is a favorite for most movie plots, and although we try to steer clear of that discussion, it definitely crosses our minds. We may not be as intense as the Corleone family, but we have our eccentricities. The environment we grow up in shapes us as adults, and also cast its impression on our own families when we have them eventually.
I am not obsessed with parenting as a concept; I sincerely believe that children grow up without us patronizing them much. Also, how our children turn out should not serve as a complete judgment on parents, because there are environmental factors at play too – the parents of criminals may not have done anything evil in their own lives. We need to cut parents some slack.
Having said that, I will not deny that as children, sometimes we loved and envied the way other families bonded. I for one had parents who were very shy to show their affection physically, so we grew out of hugs quicker than we grew out of our diapers. So whenever I see parents hugging their grown up children, I have an awkward flipping in my stomach, much like Willy Wonka, when he had to say ‘parents’. Our affection was shown more in deeds than in actions. My father let us put our hands into his pockets and draw out a chocolate every day when he came back from work, he still brings a chocolate when I visit now, along with an additional one for my daughter.
Even when children grow up and leave the nest, some parents are in constant touch with them over phone, email and even social networks, in a way knowing their every move. In such cases, parents are more like friends and confidantes, and children share their deepest feelings and genuine concerns with them; questions related to work, finances, or relationships. Others, on the other hand, exist in a parallel universe where once an adult, you lead your own life and have occasional chats with the folks to ensure their well-being, their counsel only being sought when all other doors seem closed.
Every family has rituals which they follow and they can be really varied and interesting.
Every family has rituals which they follow and they can be really varied and interesting. Some go on annual pilgrimages or holidays. Some donate to charities to celebrate a birthday or anniversary. My mother-in-law would make an investment for each child on their birthday. That is one of the most practical and wise rituals I have come across. Eating out or buying toys/gadgets has become very commonplace nowadays, and I am not sure how much value today’s children associate with it. But for us, any trip to the market was a very exciting affair which happened once in a blue moon. Today, if a family manages to have at least one meal together, it is regarded as a big achievement.
So much for the good stuff. I have seen some families do really nasty things. One of my neighbors was very miserly about buying gifts. So when their child had to go to someone’s birthday party, they would just re-gift some item which they had received and were not using. I fell prey to this when I got a butter dish for my birthday, I mean, who gives a butter dish to a 10-year-old?? I’m sure they hadn’t watched Seinfeld, ever, to know how taboo ‘re-gifting’ was on the social scale. And who can forget the “Snake dance” from our very own Bride and Prejudice. It has me in splits every time I see it.
We are talking about LGBT rights and same-sex marriages when the fact of the matter remains that choosing your own life-partner is frowned upon by most families
We hear of Khaps and other moral police who can kill in their own families for honour; who shake the very foundations of love. We are talking about LGBT rights and same-sex marriages when the fact of the matter remains that choosing your own life-partner is frowned upon by most families, having nothing to do with education or upbringing. Deep roots of caste and creed are still entrenched in the minds of many parents, who intend to protect their children from harm, but lose their judgment when it comes to matters of the heart. Many of my close friends have lost the battle of trying to live with a spouse chosen entirely on basis of birth charts and matrimonial sites. Some have had their marriage boycotted by the entire family because the boy/girl they chose was not from the same caste.
In life, we receive our family as our very first diorama of the society we are going to constitute as adults. The trials and tribulations that we experience shapes our idea of family life. We aim to be more progressive with our children and bridge the gap the last generation could not, but also end up creating notions which our coming generations will challenge. Such is the circle of life.
Indian family image via Shutterstock
I love literature, studied engineering, and work as a Statistical Programmer in the Pharma domain. I love talking, and writing is a means of sharing my observations about the mundane. My motto - Truth, however bitter ... read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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