Italian Indian, Bhai Bhai

 The similarities between the two countries are hard to miss

It was while standing in line to board an aircraft at an Italian airport that the thought first occurred to me. As the crowd built up behind me I could hear many raised voices having animated conversations on their cellphones without a care as to who was listening in. And in about 15 minutes what had been an orderly queue when we started out had turned into an amorphous mass of people. 

Honestly, I thought to myself, I could be back in India! There was the same lack of awareness that we were in a public space and that it wouldn’t do to disturb the peace of other people. And there was the same cheerful flouting of boring old rules like standing in a line while waiting. 

The more I thought I about it the more I became convinced that Indians and Italians are really the same people. And not just in terms of their common disregard for any kind of civic discipline (anyone who has driven in Delhi will feel right at home on the streets of Rome!) but in more positive ways as well. 

Take our attitudes to family. Both in Italy and India, the family is regarded as near sacred. There is respect for elders (and not just those who belong to your family), there is affection for young adults, and adoration of all children. You only have to dine in small Italian restaurants to see that multigenerational families are as common here as they are in India. And just like Indians, no Italian can resist the charms of a chubby baby. There will be much cooing and cuddling and cosseting — and that is just the wait staff. Nobody will give you dirty looks if your baby cries either; instead they will lining up to help quieten him or her down. 

The Italian attitude to food is much the same as the Indian one. There is the same love of carbs (pizza and paratha), the same affinity for deep-frying (arancini and pakoras), the same dependence on milk products (cheese and dahi), the same taste for intense sweetness when it comes to dessert (affogato and kheer). Indians have yet to develop the same devotion for a nice glass of Prosecco but I think we will get there eventually. 

When it comes to hospitality, there are the same parallels. The welcome you get in an Italian home is very similar to the one you can expect in an Indian one. The table will be laden with more dishes than you could possibly do justice do; the hosts will entreat you to have second or even third helpings; and the drinks will keep coming even when you are ready to give up. 

But the greatest similarity between Indians and Italians is this: never do they feel more Indian and Italian than when they are out of their respective countries. While in Italy, they may define themselves as being from Napoli or Venezia, they may differentiate between the north and the south. But the moment they leave their country, they became ‘Italians’. The same is true of Indians. All those differences between Gujaratis and Punjabis and north and south India collapse the moment we leave our borders. Then we are all Indians together. 

So, if you needed another reason to visit Italy, here it is: we really are the same people!

Find your own tribe

The families we choose are often proof that blood is not thicker...

 

How do you define a family? Is it just people linked by DNA and marriage? Is it restricted to mom/dad, kids, and maybe two sets of grandparents? Does it encompass the extended clan, no matter how far removed? Can it ever include those who are not related to you by blood but by laughter and tears instead?

 

The older I grow the more I realise that there is no one way to make a family of your own. Yes, the first ties that bind are those that connect us to our parents, grandparents and siblings. As we reach adulthood and make our own families, it is that pattern that we seek to replicate, creating little nuclear structures of our own, peopled by our own flesh and blood. And while that is a perfectly viable way to create a family, it is by no means the only one.

 

My childhood was marked by the fact that I never quite understood where my family ended and the rest of the world began. Those were the days when neighbours would drop in unannounced at each other’s houses; when you ended up eating lunch or dinner in whichever home you found yourself in at the time; and if you fell down and hurt yourself it didn’t matter whose mom picked you up and dusted you off. This was communal living at a time when I did not even understand what the word meant. But it showed me that family bonds can be forged with people who have no familial relationship with you. 

 

Those early experiences have inevitably coloured the rest of my life. When I moved to Delhi three decades ago, I was warned that this was a city which didn’t do family feeling. And I believed that for a bit and kept myself to myself. But then, fed up of being constricted in this manner, I dropped in at my landlord’s place to give his mom some halwa and puri on Kanjak day. That was all it took for the dam to burst open. After that, he simply could not do enough for me. If he was going to pay his electricity bill, he would offer to pay mine at the same time. If the fuse went out he would send someone to fix it. And before I knew it, I had a family of sorts I could rely on. 

 

The same was true of work colleagues. We started off as acquaintances, then graduated to friendship as we bonded over looming deadlines and missing copy. And then, one day down the line, we realized that we had become family to one another in a process so imperceptible that we didn’t even clock when the change happened.

 

So, my advice to all of you this Sunday morning is this: don’t be afraid to go out and seek out a family of your own. Introduce your toddler to the granny who lives in the ground floor flat two doors down. You will be surprised by how soon the two of them become fast friends; and how quickly you are subsumed into that relationship.

 

And if your child can help you expand your family circle at his or her tender age, then what excuse do you have for staying within your own silo?

 

Yes, that’s right. None!

On your knees!

When the chaos of the world threatens to overwhelm, it is time to count your blessings

My guess is that this Sunday morning, as you sit down with your first cup of chai/coffee, you are a wee bit fed up of all the bad news that seems to be playing out on surround sound in our world. The Sensex has crashed, Pakistan persists in sending terrorists across to India, onion prices keep soaring into the stratosphere, the monsoon is failing, and murder mysteries get murkier and murkier with every re-telling. 

But in case the universe seems to have stopped making sense, pause for a minute, breathe in, exhale, and take a minute to count your blessings. For that’s what I intend to do this morning: tot up all the many things that I have to be thankful for. Feel free to join in; trust me, it will make you feel much better about yourself and the world we live in.

Okay, first up is health. If you are on the wrong side of forty, you may have a few niggling worries on that score. Your cholesterol count may be high, your blood pressure may be elevated slightly, your knees and back giving you a bit of trouble, and sore on and sore forth. But step back and look at the bigger picture. You are still alive and kicking. You haven’t lost the use of your limbs or indeed your brain. The rest of it is just detail, which can be ironed out with a new fitness regime. So render thanks for the fact that you are still around – and still standing (if only just!).

A close second comes family. It doesn’t matter how big or small this is, whether it is extended or nuclear, dysfunctional or perfect, related by blood or marriage. As long as there are people in it who love you and are, in turn, loved by you, there is a lot to be thankful for. You may be in daily touch with them; or you may not have spoken to them in months. But so long as you know that there are people out there who care for you and will drop everything to be by your side if you need them (as you would for them) then you are blessed indeed. 

Next up are your friends. No, not the ones you list on Facebook, whose status updates and pictures you faithfully ‘like’ every time you log on. Not the ones on Twitter who respond to your every sally with a smiley face emoji. Not the ones you meet on the cocktail circuit, all air kisses and false intimacy. Not the ones who are cultivating you for whatever benefit they can leech off you, all the while telling you how absolutely amazing you are. No, not those ‘friends’.

The friends you should be grateful for are the ones who see you for what you are, accept you with all your flaws, and love and support you regardless. These are the ones who will answer truthfully when you ask if you ass looks enormous in these jeans. They are the ones who will pick up the phone at 3 am in the morning if you find yourself in a spot of bother. They are the ones who will attack you to your face and defend you behind your back (rather than the other way round). If you have even one of those then consider yourself truly blessed.

That’s the big stuff. But there is also a lot of small stuff that makes us feel truly blessed, if only we would stop to think about. In my case, the list goes something like this:

• A room of my own: That was something I longed for growing up as the youngest in a joint family. The ability to retreat into a space that was completely my own, where nobody could intrude without my express permission. A place where I could be alone with my thoughts, my books, my music, or simply with myself. When I finally moved to another city to live on my own, the sense of freedom I felt was something quite indescribable. Even today, when I no longer live alone, it feels like a blessing to be able to retreat into my own space when I want to.
• Books, books, and books: I often think that if I were ever to wash up on a deserted island, I would be quite content so long as it had a stash of my favourite books and a soft pillow to rest my head on! But more seriously, while I could easily cope without a TV or even an internet connection, even the thought of living in a world without books sends a shiver up my spine.
• An evening at home: The social whirl is not for me. My idea of the perfect evening is pottering around in the kitchen to make something simple for dinner, eating it with family as we chat about the day, following up with some quality time with a box set of one of my favourite TV shows, and then reading myself to sleep. And, of course, counting my blessings, as the lights go out.

One and only

Are only children happier than those with siblings? A recent survey appears to suggest so

Some of my friends who have chosen to restrict themselves to a single-child family are often disconcerted by the kind of reactions they elicit from family, friends, acquaintances, hell, sometimes even passing strangers. Their decision not to extend their family always evokes shock, horror, amazement, even a smidgeon of pity.

The questions come hard and fast. Are they really sure about this? Don’t they realise that their child will grow up lonely? How on earth will he learn to get along with other kids or even share his toys? Who will be there to support her after they are gone? Maybe they should change their minds about this before it is too late. And so on and on and on.

Well, all those friends of mine who have been so exasperated by these demands over the years can now heave a sigh of relief. For a recent survey suggests that only children are far happier than those with siblings.

Well, I guess, at a certain level it makes some sense. Only children never have to compete with someone else for the love of their parents. Their parents can lavish more money, attention and praise on them because there is no other child around to make demands on them.

They don’t have to cope with bullying by an elder sibling or make concessions for a younger one. There are no invidious comparisons to be drawn between them and a brother who is so much better at maths or a sister who can write so well. They never have to share either the bathroom or their books.

And when it comes to their inheritance, the whole caboodle will come to them in the fullness of time.

Hey, maybe my friends with single-child families are on to something here. Perhaps they are actually doing better by their kids than those who bring two or even more children into the world.

Okay, so these kids don’t have the ready-made companionship of a brother or sister with blood ties to bind them. But they can go out and make friends of their own choosing. At least, that way they will be sure of getting along with them. With siblings there is always the danger than you will drive each other up the wall or be at one another’s throats before Mom and Dad charge in to break up the brawl. And sometimes these childhood – even childish – rivalries fester well into adulthood, poisoning relationships and ruining family gatherings.

Certainly there are enough grown-ups around who profess to be quite happy with their single-child upbringing. They enjoyed the feeling of being at the centre of their parents’ universe. They loved the idea of being the sole focus of attention. And they really didn’t miss the give-and-take that comes with a sibling relationship.

Of course, you could call them selfish, self-centred or even self-absorbed with no interest in anything other than themselves. And there may even be some truth to that. But they prefer to describe themselves as self-contained. Having grown up in isolation they are used to being by themselves. And as a consequence, they have developed enough inner resources to cope with being on their own.

You may see them as lonely but actually they are just alone – and no, it is not that same thing.

But just as some people are content with their single-child status, others are actively unhappy. As children they probably pestered their parents for a sibling, as grown-ups they feel as if they have lost out on an essential part of the human experience. Some of them try and make up by creating big families of their own in an attempt to re-write history. Others content themselves with berating others who are disinclined to extend their families.

I guess at the end of the day, it all comes down to personality. Some people are essentially loners, who thrive on their only-child isolation. Others long for social contact and meaningful inter-familial relationships, and they can never quite make peace with their sibling-less status.

But even though the survey says otherwise, I can’t help but feel that only children do tend to lose out – sometimes in ways which they don’t even comprehend. Sure, they may not have to contend with sibling rivalry. But they have no opportunity to enjoy some sibling revelry either.

And I have a sneaking feeling that they are the poorer for it. The rich web of human relationships that are formed between siblings are lost to them forever. They may not have had to share their parents’ love, but there will be no one to share the burden of their care in old age either. And once they are gone, they will never be able to share the memories of their parents with anyone else. And there will be no one around with the same shared history of growing up.

They will never experience the special bond that forms between aunts and nieces. They will never have the pleasure of playing indulgent uncle. They will never enjoy the sight of their kids playing with their cousins, all of them united by a certain family resemblance. And they will never be able to fall back on the unconditional support that only a sibling can provide in a time of crisis.

But I guess, you don’t miss something that you never had in the first place. Perhaps that explains why only children profess to be quite so happy.