Talking Shop: Back of my mind

I saw this coming quite a while back and went to the extreme extent of warning people – that it just would happen, the death of the Indian family system that people of my age grew up with and cherished. I wrote about it, but all but no one paid heed; some even scoffed. The one biggest reason for the worsening family system in our country is greed, self-apathy and Coronavirus, with the last being the most compelling, cutting the roots out from under us. I know many who have borne the brunt of this blooming virus, a scythe that has cut through our psyche, mettle and our very fabric.

As always, you want proof-points, right? Hallelujah, here we go. A Delhi-based lady (name not to be shared) faced a veritable travesty when her husband drank everyday and roughed her up. He even threatened to throw their baby from the balcony or down the stairs. The poor dear endured this for months, till the threat of COVID-19 confronted them, as it did all of us. Locked inside the house for months, them and them alone, the husband apparently got more vicious and took his frustration out on the wife's colleagues and bosses, vilifying her to an extent that she lost her job. The Government-enforced lockdown forced them to stay indoors, bicker and fight. Game over. They are now divorced.

This is a very normal story in our new India, where even those from traditional families are moving apart because of reasons told and untold. But we are certainly being fractured and metamorphosing, with the true ground-level issues being as variegated as they are malignant and telling.

What is happening?

Well, an economic and psychological mayhem is headed our way. I see it coming. We don't want to admit it, but an unexpected and unrequited tumult abuts us. How so, you dare to ask yet again? In my answer, let's take a step back and look at numbers official, announced in our very own Parliament. In the Upper House a few years back, our then Minister of Home for State announced that between 2018 and 2020, 16,000 Indians committed suicide because they were bankrupt or in serious debt. In addition, another 9,140 Indians bit the silver bullet as they were suddenly and soullessly rendered unemployed.

Let's move to Baghpat, where one person recently posted a live video of ending his own life, and that of his 38-year-old wife. The wife repeatedly tried to stop him and managed to save him, but she perished in the process. Ironically, the wife who helped the husband died, while he survived. Game over.

In Bengaluru, a 35-year-old mother of two faced something similar. In her case, she had already been talking about separation from her husband and the in-laws and the duplicitous pandemic struck. The lockdown accelerated and farmed the distance. "My husband had no sense of personal space. He would get drunk, especially so after he lost his job and repeatedly lost control. My job and the lockdown gave me courage to push him back and walk out. Our marriage was over and done with."

The blacklist is long. It is only growing. We are fast turning into a country of haves and have-nots; those who have the leverage, courage, mettle and fettle to carry on and those who don't. Romance is history – we are breaking down.

What do we do?

That's a real temerity, and I am no psychologist or psephologist. I have no clue what is going to happen tomorrow, in my land or in any others. What I do know is that what we are witnessing is historic, for all the wrong reasons. In the 1940s, we saw Adolf Hitler, who tried to achieve the impossible and ended rather insensitively and went to his abode. Today, we witness vestiges of him, idiotic duplicates enamoured of him, again adorning the highest office and behaving in an offish way. Does it matter that our leaders of today think that they shall thrive? Nope. This too shall pass. The only difference is that in this case, nirvana shall take a longer while to happen. But it will.

And that's because India's lockdowns have been extremely hiccuppy, ill-timed and harsh, resulting in a vastly increased incidences of domestic violence, physical and emotional, with the country recording the highest abuse figures in a decade. Even the National Commission for Women reported more complaints in just the first 70 days of the lockdown than in the previous decade, all told. Truth be told, the same Commission reportedly received 24,000 complaints just in 2020, the highest single-year figure in six years. Whoa.

As a society, we are clearly regressing. The crisis affecting relationships isn't about abuse, because the once-holy institution called marriage is itself being questioned. The last two years have seen jobs being lost, salaries being squawked and housework increasing – over time, all this has shown its wrath. The average Indian man is a slob, relegating household-work to the spouse and hired help. Today, himself confined to home-ground, most of India's macho men stand exposed for their lack of homework virility and capability. Add to this the too much in-your-face time and presence, as also lack of personal space, the work-from-home scenario has blurred and stigmatized boundaries and relationships.

Ending the debacle

Peremptorily and frankly, I don't know the answer to this debacle. What I can share is that I too have been thrown asunder into a seemingly endless togetherness-cauldron with my missus, and it does get tacky at times. But what we do to thwart one-another's angst is spend this forced togetherness by doing small things, together.

"Chal jaaneman, gaadiyaan dhote hain (come, let's wash the cars)." Yes, I do, in my dwindling times, speak like this. When she looks at me and smiles, my goods are made. We also cook, compare the end-result and berate. We listen to music and dance all the time. Please remember that I may be fragile in years but she's a spanking chump (many, many years back, I chose wisely). We also always, always watch the telly together, mouthing and spouting our pathetic vitriol at the drivel being forced down our innards, all for the celebration of 'news'.

Then she reminds me of my own columns in this very newspaper and all the truth that has been shared, making me feel like a big shot. I have no option but to reciprocate, telling her that last night's chhole, gobhi ki sabzi and paranthas were divine. We look at each other, coo and ooh for a bit, feel happy, smile and sleep. I am now too old for serious romance and related activities.

But the fire still burns, as much within my ageing phalanges as it does within my country. From Uttar Pradesh to Assam and New Delhi, our leaders are engaging in disgusting political histrionics, with a shameless few now even questioning the genetics of opposing forces. This is certainly not what I signed up for, Sir. I grew up clean and ripe. I would like to go the same way. The vistas and visions that I see of my country's today's reality are not something that I am very pleased about.

Et tu Brutus?

The writer is a clinical analyst and a communications specialist. Views expressed are personal. narayanrajeev2006@gmail.com