How Relatives Trespass Into Our Domain

How Relatives Trespass Into Our Domain

Relatives often fail to mind their own business. They feel entitled to offer unsolicited advice, ask intrusive questions, and even answer them on their own. For instance, they might ask, “Aren’t you teaching your daughter to drive a scooter?” Before you can respond, they add, “Traffic is terrible, roads are treacherous, and boys misbehave. Anitha broke her ankle when she fell from her scooter after a boy tried to overtake her. Poor girl missed her exam because of it.” If they already have so much to say, why bother asking the question in the first place?

Take another instance: “When are you celebrating your 60th birthday?” Before you can reply, they start advising, “Make it simple and invite only relatives. You know, Ramesh celebrated his Shastiapthapoorthy on a grand scale, and the poor fellow had a heart attack a week later. He had to undergo angioplasty. People cast an evil eye on such lavish functions.” By the time they finish their monologue, you’ve barely had a chance to respond.

Here’s another example. Rangan was looking for a match for his daughter. Raghavan, in his sixties, offered this gem of advice: “Don’t select an IT professional. That field is full of free mixing without any inhibition. With American and European timings, there’s no scope for family life.” Rangan, who had just finalized a match with an IT professional working in an MNC, was visibly upset.

Seshan had purchased a plot on the outskirts of Chennai. His brother-in-law, Shankar, remarked, “Oh my God, why did you choose this location of all places? It’ll take years to develop, and safety is a big question mark.” This deflated Seshan’s enthusiasm. To make matters worse, his wife pounced on him, saying, “Didn’t I tell you the same thing? You didn’t listen to me. I’m not moving there if you still plan to construct a house.” Shankar’s unsolicited comments disrupted the peace in their lives.

When I suggested that Mithila pursue a B.Ed., as she was a postgraduate and our daughters were 12 and 10 years old—well beyond the stage of needing constant attention—relatives were quick to disapprove. They pointed out that a full-time course would make it difficult to manage household responsibilities. Who would take care of the children when they came home from school at 3 PM? Their comments only strengthened our resolve to move forward. Though the process caused significant personal strain, Mithila’s success overshadowed the challenges we faced.

When I purchased a plot on the ECR in Chennai, a relative warned, “Don’t buy a south-facing plot; it’s bad for health and prosperity.” But I’d lived in south-facing houses before and valued the good breeze they offered. I proceeded to build the house as planned. The unsolicited advice kept pouring in—move the kitchen to the Agni Moolai, avoid using the north-eastern bedroom unless you’re a senior, and so on. I didn’t change anything except installing a small mandap in the northeast with a cute Pillaiyar idol. That house has stood for over 20 years, and both we and our tenants have lived there happily. Incidentally, the property’s value has appreciated 200 times. The same relative later remarked, “If it had been east-facing, it would have appreciated 400 times.” I simply replied, “200 is my lucky number.”

Now, for the most upsetting part of my narrative: I went to pay my respects to my sambandhi’s mother, a woman in her late eighties. While we were chatting, a couple in their mid-thirties visited her to seek blessings. Without hesitation, the elderly woman asked if the wife had conceived. When they said no, she brazenly remarked, “If it hasn’t happened in ten years, something is seriously wrong with your relationship and diet.” She proceeded to recommend urad dal, drumsticks, yellow pumpkin for the husband, and some strange kali for the wife. The couple tried to explain they were undergoing fertility treatment, but the old lady interrupted, warning them to be cautious about fraudulent practices.

I quietly left, but it took me days to erase the image of the distressed couple. Women who cannot conceive often face intolerable scrutiny and ridiculous suggestions, making their situation even harder. I feel deeply sorry for them.

Whenever I face unsolicited advice, I try to divert the topic but when exasperated I firmly but politely shut it down.