TINA’S chubby features register confusion as she voices her thoughts to her mother, "I can’t understand the way big people speak, or perhaps I’ve heard it wrong!"

The six-year-old decides to try once again, "But ma, you always call dadu pitaji, and now you say that nanu and not dadu is your father?"

"Yes", her mother laughs and explains, "dadu is actually your father’s father, and nanu is my father...."

"If nanu is your father, then why don’t you live in his house, and why do you call dadu pitaji?"

"Because dadu is my father-in-law..."

"Oh, now what is this father-in-law?"

"When you grow up a bit more, you will understand...."

Yes, the girl-child will understand the complexities of adult relationships in good time, or, perhaps not, given the speed at which family ties are fast melting away.

Where is the doting bua who would stealthily bring some sweets from the common kitchen for her niece, all the while eavesdropping and blushing when the household’s women folk animatedly discuss the details of her impending marriage? Or the youthful chacha smiling enigmatically when the bhabhi teases him about the rendezvous with his fiancee at the mela....

The idyllic scene includes the patriarch puffing away at his hookah under the neem tree, discussing with his peers the harvest prospects and the mandi rates; the matriarch giving a tough time to the younger women in the family with her acerbic tongue and unceasing litany of incomplete household chores; and the joint evening meals in the dim light of the lantern.

And, for the kids the mandatory bedtime stories spun around the handsome prince and fair princess going through vicissitudes of love before being united in eternal bliss...... By the time the narrative climaxed with the prince slaying the fiend and rescuing his beloved, young Mannu had snuggled into his granny’s lap, lost in his dream-world, snoring away contentedly.

Yes, the scenario does sound filmi today, but it was very much a part of our pastoral scene. Okay so the pleasant picture is a bit too sanitised, sans the interplay of stronger emotions and passions. But we shall examine the flip side a bit later. Right now it is important to note that there were clear-cut gender-based roles for all adults of the family. Rights and duties were, normally, well understood. In case of any dispute or doubt, the patriarch or the matriarch — depending upon whether the appellant was a male or female — settled the matter.

The main reason for cohesion and discipline within the family was commonality of interests. A rural family specialised in a particular vocation. Most of the resources were procured from within the family.Specialisation of labour was in its most rudimentary, but effective, form. Each family member knew what was expected of him or her in promoting and maintaining the family enterprise. In return each was assured of economic and social security. Children enjoyed emotional protection that helped them grow into robust adults.

As the village economy functioned on the principle of inter-dependence among various families, there was a healthy give and take that went well beyond the calling of the cut-and-dried barter system. For example, if a village belle was to be married off, it was not considered a particular family’s affair alone. The entire village contributed to make the marriage a success — it was a matter of the village’s izzat after all.

Thus,infamy and honour were permanently etched on a family’s profile. Perhaps that was the reason why an oppressive moral code of conduct was imposed zealously in the joint family system. A city dweller, however, away from the forbidding regimen of the patriarch, can easily get away with the most scandalous escapade, secure in his anonymity among the vast multitude.

This arcadian picture remained intact to a large extent till there was minimal utilisation of technology, till physical labour — be it in the fields, the lalaji’s business or the artisan’s enterprise — was required in ample measure. Since hired labour was scarce and therefore costly, cooperative and mutual tolerance made good economic sense.

Gradually technology began to make its presence felt. Electricity, tubewells and tractors increased the crop yield manifold and made life easy.New areas for self-advancement began to be explored, especially by the new generation. With college education, and prospects of a better life in urban areas, the exodus from villages began. This quest was promoted as much by the dwindling employment avenues in the village, as by the surplus wealth generated and hoarded by the joint family.

Remember Munnu who would doze off in his granny’s lap, listening to her oft-repeated stories? He was fortunate enough to get college education in the city, thanks to the newfound prosperity of his family. The elders decided that he should learn new skills to help promote the family enterprise.

Much to his parents’ chagrin, our Munnu is now Mr Kumar and is employed in a city firm. Worse, he has married the city-bred Pinky. After several invitations Mr and Mrs Kumar deign to visit their rural relations. She sniffs at the very sight of the less-educated bumpkins.Kumar is embarrassed. There is awkwardness in the family, which eventually erupts into heated exchanges.The Kumars leave for the town in a huff. Those who become used to the more liberal urban ethos, find rural life a bit too stifling.

Technology has affected the behavioural patterns and values of the villagefolk too. Affluence is responsible for the the latest means of communication and entertainment. Television has become an integral part of village life. Ambitions are giving rise to conflicts. Each family member wishes to have an individual and specific domain. He is not prepared to respect the hierarchy any more. There is no need to. He would like to do his own thing. His wife too is happy at the prospect of living a more independent life so that she can make her son a bigger sahib than Munnu. Mr Kumar, my foot!.

Finally this stage arrives too. The joint property is carved out into smaller slices. Some of the inheritors sell off their share to migrate to greener pastures in urban areas or abroad, while others become more or less absentee landlords. The village artisan’s progeny too has diversified into different fields in the urban areas. The lala’s offspring prefer comforts to a babu’s chair to a petty businessman’s tension-ridden vocation.

From a joint family to a nuclear family to a single-parent family to a confirmed bachelor’s or spinster’s existence — the social profile is undergoing rapid changes, like a kaleidoscope in a tizzy, with attendant pluses and minuses.

Kumar and Pinky have now travelled far down the liberal lane. He has climbed up the corporate ladder. She is busy with her kitty parties and social dos. They live in the company’s spacious, furnished bungalow. Their two kids are studying in elite schools. One would say that such a huge bungalow for just four persons is a waste of resources. The Kumars retort they need it for asserting their status in society and keeping the riff-raff at an arm’s length. Moreover, spaces are good for the family’s personality development!

As an aside one would like to mention that there is plenty of urban land locked up for speculative purpose; or merely appropriated without being put to any useful application. In the 1980s, a survey in Mumbai had revealed that at least 25 per cent of the upper-middle class residential units remain vacant, with a caretaker to look after them.What a waste in the city where space is at a premium! Family disputes, refusal of kin to share the same property or live under the same roof often lead to such improvident disuse of assets. This is now true of all urban areas.

Kumar’s kids have now grown up. Their son Rahul wants to reach the top. You are rightly flummoxed. How high is this ‘top’? In the village, the top normally ended with the group of elders called the panchayat — though things have changed there too with petty politicians and officials ruling the roost. But in cities every time one climbs a peak and flexes his muscles in exultation, he finds someone comfortably perched on a still higher crest — looking down at him. The rat race never really ends.

Kumar’s daughter Tara believes that she has every right to evolve as a person.If marriage does not suit her, she would rather be a divorcee than a doormat. After Rahul’s migration to the USA, and Tara’s divorce, Kumar begins to crave for his childhood security. There is no shoulder to cry on in this urban brick-and-mortar jungle. He remembers how the entire household had comforted bua when she had wept after her first post-marriage tiff. She was not only given moral support but her problem with her husband and in-laws has sorted out. Eventually with the help of village elders, she went back to her husband, with her dignity intact. But now....?

Dowry deaths were unheard of. Suicides were rare. Tension-related ailments were still to make their presence felt... ah the fruits of joint family system!

But hold on, haven’t we heard of tyrannical patriarchs and strong-headed matriarchs making the lives of the vulnerable extremely miserable? Individual enterprise was discouraged to such an extent that many an invaluable talent died without finding a suitable outlet or platform. What if there was a crash of belief and intent in the family? To keep family traditions alive, such mavericks would be brought to heel with an iron hand. Thus individual aspirations were subordinated to the larger family interests. What a colossal loss to society! Domestic violence remained muffled — a seething volcano that erupted occasionally.

With the pastoral joint family’s disappearance, things have changed. One can purse a career of one’s choice. One can be a CEO at the ripe old age of 23 years! Naturally, one would call the present regime an improvement over the constricting joint family system. One can flit around the globe contracting business deals, attending seminars and conventions and generally making one’s presence felt.... in short, realise one’s full potential.

True, the rat race has taken its toll. One cannot sit under a tree and leisurely puff away at the hookah. Even the so-called entertaining parties are basically business-oriented. Entertainment and relaxation are luxuries one can ill-afford in this age of high-voltage competitive existence. Every gesture is primed for promoting one’s economic interests. The days of carefree laughter are over, for every smile is calculated to convey a message. You cannot indulge in banter any more — it might provoke a sharp reaction, even admonition. Tension-related ailments are on the rise. The tolerance threshold is so low that minor disputes or even a harmless remark can provoke violence, leading either to murder or suicide. Earlier, if a child scored less marks he was given a sound thrashing which was followed by the grammy’s shower of indulgences. Now you take him to a counsellor for advice and stimulation, all the while treating him with kid gloves.

In the joint family one could find solace and support among the kin. Those who were unable to earn or contribute to the family due to physical disability were provided enough economic security and dignity. But in the nuclear family system, especially in India where social security is still negligible, the survival of the not-so-fit citizens is in jeopardy.

If you study closely the way networking functions in an urban environment, you will find a far more sophisticated version of the joint family system at work. The old school tie, the business cartels, or any other economic and social entity has adopted the time-tested principles of the joint family system, viz. commonality of interests, mutual security and interdependence for promoting long-term goals.

Only the pastoral leisure is missing. If you have become affluent enough to hang your shoes and relax in the club, reminiscing about the highs and lows of a kinetic lifestyle you just bade goodbye to. The parallel is the patriarch pulling at his hookah under the peepul tree surrounded by his peers, talking to the good old days when men were men. But that is where the parallel ends. After retirement the joint family’s patriarch still had enough clout to influence the family’s decision-making process. But an elder in the urban area is a fuddy-duddy who is ignored by his colleagues and kin alike.

Has the breaking up of the joint family system led to the society’s fragmentation? Or, as some argue, smaller social units will lead to a more vibrant and cohesive society? There are no easy answers.

However some aver that there is a ray of hope. If you follow the western, especially the American social scene, you realise that after constant atomisation of the family, a revival is beginning to take shape. The demand for reinstalling the old family values is becoming louder by the day.

Is it really necessary for us then to go through the agony of fragmentation before realising the worth of a secure family life? Can’t we re-adopt the joint family system, albeit with some modifications? Let it be flexible enough to provide scope for individual growth the strong enough to protect the aged and the vulnerable from the predators in our society.