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Overcoming pangs of separation

Parents of NRI children have come together to form an association to share their feelings, writes Nivedita Ganguly

Photo:K.R. Deepak

A great sharing zone Members of NRI Parents Association at their get-together

Every time the weary eyes rest upon the photo frame, memories cloud the mind. On each wall of the house rests the years of togetherness shared with their children – all encapsulated in happy looking photographs. Not so long ago, they were all t ogether sharing the troubles and ecstasies of life. Eventually, the children grew up and with them the expectations rose until they sailed off to other countries to pursue their dreams, leaving behind a bundle of cherished memories with their parents.

Parents of NRI children are in a sense perched on the edge of a cliff. Plagued by old-age troubles, they are laden with a sense of impending doom as they walk through the twilight years of their lives. Says Shyamala Nair who has been staying alone ever since her son went to the US nine years ago: “Times have changed and we have adjusted with it. But we feel the absence of our children, especially when we are ill or during some crucial decision making time. That’s when we feel the need of the emotional support of our children.”

Until the early decades of the last century, the roles of sons and daughters were simpler and rigidly defined. The son grew up to become the main wage earner of the family while the daughter was given expert training in domestic chores and arts. Three to four generations lived under the same roof. There was always room for extra mouths, be it an invalid uncle, a suffering aunt or a nephew pursuing higher education in the city, all amidst the eternal influx of guests. Within the folds of the joint family, the pangs of loneliness and insecurity were an alien phenomenon. As lifestyles changed, ambitions soared high, pushing the new generation of scholars to cross the seas.

A newfound crisis took its place among the lonely parents whose lives had always revolved around their children since years. Sometimes, children provide the sole bonding between couples and as conversation usually revolves around them, a thick fog of silence surrounds the elderly who live alone. It was to counter this problem of loneliness that P. Radhadevi and her husband P. Hari Prasada Rao started the NRI Parents Association (NRIPA) in 1999. With their children settled abroad, they were leading a lonely life until this idea of forming an association struck them.

“We had read about such associations of NRI parents in other cities and that’s when we realized that it can an effective way to counter the loneliness we feel,” says Radhadevi. What began as a casual get-together of six parents sharing their experiences about their children gradually gathered stream. Now the association has 137 parents who support each other in difficult times. The various activities held by the association are the only thing that keeps them motivated and hopeful.

Be it celebrating festivals and important occasions together or going for a picnic, even as they yearn to see their children, they manage to find their own ways of happiness through these moments. For many, this association is an extended family. They help each other when the members decide to take a trip abroad in matters involving visa, passport modalities and other necessary needs.

For the children, ‘love’ takes the shape of daily telephone conversations to old mum and dad, concerned definitely but unable to help them tide over the problems and pinpricks of each day.

Even the Internet that is supposed to have brought down the geographical distances are after all merely black prints on the white screen! And in the critical times, caring is by proxy - the nurse engaged when ill, the arrangements made, the money paid through the bank account.

Most connections are confined to yearly visits or less. That’s when the house is spruced up and it is indeed springtime for the parents. “For us festivals are the days when our children come home,” says Prasada Rao. When grandchildren come home, at first the alien feeling is striking, the drawl in their voices, the shrug of the shoulders, the too expressive faces - not unattractive, but different. It is not a relationship one can flow instantly into. So, accordingly, adjustments are made. “We believe in the bond of friendship be it with out children or grandchildren. That space and level understanding is important. We have the years and the maturity of many experiences, to be in a better position to give support to our children and understand their needs,” says Radhadevi.

Others like Saraswathi Vedala involve themselves in a host of activities to avoid the strong tentacles of loneliness from gripping their lives. “Though I miss my children a lot, I keep myself busy with social work and other activities,” says Saraswathi who works with nearly 30 associations in the region.

Then there are elders who take a more practical view of the situation. “Ultimately sooner or later, we all have to lead our lives alone. How well we deal with our crisis will decide how well the twilight years of our lives would turn out to be,” says Venkateshwar Rao.

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