Sunday, February 11, 2001		Life Ties

INDIRA was a high profile classical dancer of the 70s. Her figure, carefully constructed career and constant travelling made her push the thought of rearing a family till she met an astrologer who told her that motherhood would prove lucky and give a boost to her waning popularity. When the nurse brought the new born into the waiting room, the high voltage anticipation of the father and grandparents was brutally silenced as they gawked at the dark, chinky-eyed, disproportionately big baby. "It couldn’t have come from Indira’s womb!", was the first horrified reaction. Indira, who was so exquisitely crafted, well maintained and fair. How would she cope with the disappointment of having a child who was not a miniature replica of herself?

Indira was aghast, but when she saw that people sympathised more with her and that it actually increased her stock, she accepted God’s will with theatrical grace. Maids were hired to ensure that the baby’s needs were met. Bhavya was a perceptive child who sensed the rejection early in life.

By the time she was four, Bhavya realised that on her own, independent of her mother’s presence, she was accepted as any regular kid but in Indira’s presence she met a condescending or patronising response. Her intelligent mind carved out its own defence mechanism. She avoided going out with her mother. If she couldn’t step out of her shadow, she would stay as far from her towering persona as possible. There was no way she was going to tag along and sit in the front row as people thunderously applauded Indira and gave her, Bhavya, peculiar looks.

She hated those initial years. Her mother’s dolled up look, wearing tight revealing clothes and titillating speech made her shrink in the senior lady’s presence. Her child’s imaginative mind was convinced that her mama was the reincarnation of Snow White’s stepmother who was obsessed with retaining her beauty and youthful looks. The ensuing resentment manifested in different ways. There were times Bhavya would stand in front of her mother’s elaborately arranged dressing table, pick up the choicest perfumes and lipsticks and flush them in the bathroom. When no one was around and the phone would ring for Indira, she would either lie atrociously or conveniently forget to pass on important messages in an attempt to ‘set her right’.

Indira was not unaware of her daughter’s growing animosity and bad behaviour. But she studiously ignored it. She was scared that an analysis or confrontation would reveal her own insecurities. She knew she was not the perfect mother. Her husband, fed up of her travelling and partying, had decided to return to farming in his native village of Coorg. Her dancing career meanwhile was at its peak as she happened to be one of the favoured artistes on the Festivals of India abroad. It became convenient to brush the strained mother-daughter relationship under the carpet. Seeking professional help was suggested by a friend, but Indira opposed the idea scared it would lead to negative publicity.

Teenage Bhavya’s burning desire was to upstage her mother. She knew she couldn’t beat her in the looks department, so she slogged in academics and extra-curricular activities. Debates, art and creative writing made her a star all-rounder, year after year. She studiously avoided dance and music.

Indira was getting desperate about getting old, wrinkled and grey. She would look at herself every day in the mirror and assess the damage control. Every extra line on her face and body sent her into manic-depressive fits. An entourage of servants, masseurs, beauty therapists and doctors constantly streamed in and out of the house. All her so-called friends vanished the moment she was removed from the Government’s list of empanelled artistes.

For the first time she started getting visibly affected by Bhavya’s standoffish behaviour. How had her daughter become so independent-minded? Come to think of it, she was no longer an ugly duckling. Smartly turned out, there was an intelligent intensity about the young girl which made her stand out. No bookworm, she was a vibrant person with varied interests, whom people liked to befriend. How had she missed all this? The realisation that she had very little to do with the making of Bhavya into a woman, dawned on her. It now hurt to see that her own daughter had a life which eliminated the need for a mother totally.

Bhavya was focused on studies. She was clear she didn’t want to live in India. She had to get out. She wrote to foreign universities, made pen pals and zeroed in on industrial design as her area of specialisation. She took exams, got aid and a loan for further studies. She knew that her old-fashioned relatives would resist her going overseas but she wasn’t prepared for her mother’s violent outburst. Her reaction; "How can you leave us and go just like that?" sounded ridiculous to her. She made it clear to Indira that the latter had, long ago, forfeited the right to have any say in her life.

Bhavya left for the USA. She topped her course, was awarded a gold medal and landed her first assignment in a prestigious design studio. She had met Devesh, an NRI , who had been born and brought up in California. After a three-year-long association, they were ready to tie the knot. All her notions of Indians living in the US not being family-oriented exploded when she saw how close-knit his family was. From stray occasional visits from the hostel, she started spending more time with them and soon had forged a fantastic rapport with Devesh’s parents Mohini and Deepak.

Gradually, some of her childhood scars began to heal as she saw what loving parents could be. She began to respond and felt nice being part of a family. Thanks to Mohini, a patchy line of communication had developed between Indira, her father and Bhavya through letters, gifts sent via the diplomatic bag, phone calls and e-mail. Indira was now pushing 65 and had arthritis. It was Mohini who made Bhavya go through the locked up portions of her childhood, making her talk of the hurts and disappointments. While empathising with her all the while, she made her see how difficult and painful it must have been for small town Indira, coming from a conservative background, making it big a highly competitive field and then constantly living with the insecurity and fear of losing it all.

Sure, she had faltered as a mother. She was weak, vain and superficial. A time had come when she had wanted to make amends and Bhavya had pushed her away. Wasn’t it possible that Bhavya’s fiery independence and sharp intellect had intimidated the older woman, making it even more difficult for her to reach out? Mohini insisted that Bhavya get married in the traditional Indian style and begin her married life with the blessings of her parents.

The wedding in India was simple and intimate. The bridal couple were truly happy. At the time of departure, a visibly sentimental Bhavya shyly asked Indira to visit her in the USA. On the flight home, Mohini had a long chat with the young bride. She asked her how would she feel if her parents came and lived in the USA, not for a brief holiday but for ever? Bhavya was unsure. Mohini, without invitation carried on, "just the way no parent can detest his child no child can hate the parent. There can be periods when one is angry, misguided and distanced but blood is thicker than water and no amount of denial can change that".

By the time they alighted, Bhavya was willing to invite them over and then allow them to decide if they wanted to live in the USA or return back home. Mohini mischievously winked at her and whispered, "I have already told them to come. They are coming as my guests next weekend and they are as nervous as you are." Bhavya held her mother-in-law and wept like a baby. She still had apprehensions but she knew that with two sets of parents she would get by.