I am visiting home for Durga puja after two years. To be honest, I have been dreading this event as much as I have been looking forward to it. My brother and I have taken life-altering decisions in the last few years, which have forever changed the relationship dynamics among the family members.
When my brother decided to get married, I was apprehensive about how we were going to make a new person feel comfortable in a household where all members can be best described as ‘trigger’ happy. My relationship with my brother had hit rock bottom because of my decision to quit my job and burdening him with more financial responsibilities than he was willing to take. Leaving jobs and adding new members to the family can destabilise the homeostasis within a ‘normal’ family set-up.
For a dysfunctional family, such drastic changes can be the final blow in the coffin. The family can splinter. Unsure of what my place in this new dynamic was, I left and stayed away. We only started to communicate when there was news of the arrival of a baby. As happy as I was, it gave me nightmares imagining the chaos that would descend in our home when each of us would be expected to come together to meet the demands of a newborn. Were we mature enough to undertake this project?
When I finally came home and met my niece, all my concerns were put to rest. My family knew exactly what was to be done when a newborn arrived. I saw my parents play the perfect grandparents and my brother, whom I could barely think of as an adult, knew what was to be done as a father. Everyone was in sync. Do babies fix things then, as elders in Indian families often opine? I seamlessly slipped into the role of a doting aunt. Buying expensive gifts for her, feeding her, lulling her to sleep, playing with her, instinctively knowing what to do when she cried or felt uncomfortable.
As enjoyable and meaningful family life can be, its all-consuming nature can make you lose your sense of self. The individual can feel diminished and stifled by the roles we play in a family set-up. Within a few days of this intense bonding with the baby, I started to feel overwhelmed. There is no sense of private space. I often go to the bathroom to breathe and find some quiet, to ideate about my articles, to answer calls from two days back. I reach my Yoga class 30 minutes earlier just to sit with my thoughts, feel my breath and my body in the silence of the studio.
All family members have taken refuge in their roles vis-à-vis the youngest member. We only talk to each other about the baby. All we ever discuss is how we will celebrate her next developmental milestone. Everyone seems to have forgotten that I left under extremely tumultuous conditions and we have issues to resolve. My family is happy to have me back but it is also quite clear that I would be tolerated as long as I stick to my role and share baby responsibilities.
As I stay longer, I see old patterns manifesting in new equations. Explicitly aggressive responses have turned into sulking and taunts. Some members are not family ‘insiders’, to whom we can't expose our ugly side. The fulcrum of all new conflicts is the baby and her needs. Old grudges show up veiled as ‘necessary arguments’ around what's best for the baby. Sometimes, when things get too heated up, a sweet babbling from the baby distracts us. We break into laughter and become the picture of a perfect family. It seems as if she performs these funny tricks to entertain a broken family. We also perform for her sake. As if she is protecting us from each other as long as we are in her service, and we in turn are protecting her from our worst selves.
(The writer is a mental health and behavioural sciences columnist, conducts art therapy workshops and provides personality development sessions for young adults. She can be found @the_millennial_pilgrim on Instagram and Twitter)
