Opinion Keep the tribe out of marriage

The division bench is entirely correct that multiple generations living together is the norm rather than the exception in this country. Financial compulsions or infirmity may deem it necessary but whether this structure is fair to everyone in the household is an entirely different matter.

“Pious obligation” most aptly describes the transactional nature of the (traditional) adult son and parents’ relationship in India. It has less to do with love and more to do with control, like the wise if somewhat cynical Hindi saying: Tijori ki chaabi hamesha apne paas honi chahiye. The (unspoken) arrangement is best summed up like this — since the son, ostensibly, stands to inherit their wealth, his parents hold the moral right to reign supreme and call the shots with him (and his wife) for their lifetime.

The fact that this bond is always prefaced by solemn adjectives like duty-deference-respect is suggestive of insufferable tedium, that becomes a heavy burden to carry over decades.

At the outset, everybody, men and women both, should be doing everything to ensure their parents’ comfort. And most do, it’s inbuilt in our DNA. At the same time, young adults need space to build their own relationships. Marriage is hard at the best of times, throw in a few painful relatives into the mix and the couple don’t stand a chance. Now, an older generation needs to “adjust” to the fact that brides are no longer willing to be relegated to the lowest end of the pecking order. The elderly’s reluctance to rearrange the joint family system is a social problem devastating society at large, because every second young person one meets is either in the throes of divorce, or wary of marrying.

This peculiar family dynamic unique to India has been explored to death in outlandish Hindi serials that continue to dominate prime time despite some pretty fantastic, regional, OTT content. In almost all the saas-bahu shows ruling cable networks since 2000, the all-powerful matriarch, the mother-in-law, is the law. It’s all very well to sneer at the “regressive” content but audiences instinctively connect to whatever reflects their reality.

Actually, watching any of these K-dramas (called so, courtesy Ektaa Kapoor’s first staggering success Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi), should serve as a warning of the claustrophobic nature of the joint family. The action generally takes place in a faux gilded palace, where two gaudily dressed women characters dramatically act out the tensions and simmering resentments rife in crowded houses. Occasionally, a loud slap ensues, to the ominous background sound of thunder and rain. The only explanation why people remain transfixed by these cringe-y, overwrought scenes is that at some level, it’s comforting to watch an alternate experience of one’s own ordeal.

Homes burgeoning with extended family raises the issue of the public self vs the private self. In our imaginations, home is where we drop the mask, a space free from scrutiny and rejection. Being driven to politeness 24/7 in our so-called personal sanctuary, far from being the antidote to loneliness, is far more reminiscent of how it can feel to be alone in a crowd.

The writer is director, Hutkay Films