Monday, 14 October 2019

The power of 'nna'


I hail from a rather conservative Tambrahm family. As per our culture, we address our husband as ‘Nna', short for anna, or brother. I understand the confusion this causes in the minds of the readers. I strongly urge you to get over it. We may get a logical explanation to this from some kind and informed soul sooner than later.

Our parents bring us up with great emphasis on value and accordingly my father has always told me that which ever family I get to be a part of, I must contribute to its well being and blend with their way of life, while preserving my values. When I got married, I was faced with what can be described as Dharmsankat.

It all began with me having to address my husband for the first time in public and I had to abide by traditional practices. I called my husband ‘Nna' and he was surprised. As with most newly married men, he lacked common sense and tact. He asked me why I called him ‘Nna' suddenly, while in the past couple of months that we had been engaged I had called him by name.

There was pin drop silence!

I stood before the elders of both the families, immeasurably guilty. In situations such as these, where I had trespassed traditional practices in the past, I had pleaded innocence and that had worked. I decided to try the same trick this time around too. I told my husband that ‘Nna' is used to address husband and it is only post marriage I could use it. Since I did not know how to call him before that I had used his name. I managed to maintain innocence in my tone and facial expression that seemed rather natural.

I patted myself for the wonderful performance as the elders nodded in agreement. My father finally spoke. He bragged about how his family called each other strictly by relationship and never by name. As with most tambrahm men, they would end every conversation with a hidden attack on their wife's family. In keeping with this glorious tradition, my father further added that even my mother's side would not address elders by name, though they were generally unaware of the exact name given to each relationship!

Through the corner of my eye I saw my mother taking a mental note of the statement for future reference. Some one from my husband's side spoke next. They were not particularly conservative and hence opined that while I should be allowed to address my husband the way I wanted to when we were alone, I should stick to the traditional ‘Nna' in public.

My father tried objecting to this, but realized that he was outnumbered. My mother chose to remain neutral, her way of taking revenge on my father. I chose to agree with my in-laws, quoting my father's advice on blending with the tradition of the house that we are married into.

It was my husband's turn to speak. He was a natural revolt, often times he would revolt against his own ideas! He declared that I should address him by his name and nothing else. My father looked at me and said that if he heard me call him by name, he would stop talking to me. My husband countered my father's attack. He looked at me firmly and said I was free to choose between the two men.

I was left high and dry! I decided to think calmly. I needed my folks on either side to co-exist. I left the place, but not before uttering what I thought was a clincher. I looked at the gathering before me and said that all fights between daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law had their roots in male ego. So saying I moved away. Soon everyone left, the movie was over. They would have to wait for the next show!

Few hours later, I spotted my father and my husband seated comfortably in front of the television. The memories of the show down that had happened only a few hours earlier seemed to have temporarily vanished. They were discussing the country's economy, thee present day ruling party's inability at containing in-fighting within the party, and similar topics. My mother walked out of the kitchen, and my father immediately lowered the TV volume and made a fake attempt to get up. My mother told him to be seated and gave a cup of tea in his hands. My husband, being new to the game of being married asked my father why he had lowered the TV volume. And my father bit the bait! When your wife is around only her volume should be loud, he said, almost instantly regretting his statement.

He finished the remaining liquid from the glass in a single gulp and went into the kitchen. He had to make amends and that to him was priority number 1. He washed the glass and walked up to my mother. He could not spot a cloth to wipe the glass and tried cleaning it with my mother's hanging part of the pallu. She quickly pulled it away and handed him a towel. As he walked out, she called out to him, ‘Nna'. The tone betrayed her anger as she told him not to play the TV in high volume. It was time for her evening prayers. The TV went into mute mode for the next hour or so. My husband walked up to me and told me he wanted the volume on. This was my chance! I told him to settle my issue with my father as it would become difficult to talk to anyone in the house otherwise. He called my father to the other room and in my presence told my father that he should leave us alone. Before my father could object, he asked my father if he had permitted anyone else to dictate terms to him, especially when it came to issues between him and his wife. My father was clearly outwitted by a younger man, not much different from him.

Reluctantly my father let go. Satisfied at having established peace I left the room. My husband waited to ensure that I was out of ear shot before continuing. Owing to his loud voice I have never been out of earshot.  I heard him tell my father that he thought wisdom lies in allowing your wife to call you by your name, while retaining the freedom to watch TV in high volume, rather than claiming supremacy in the way she addressed you and submitting to her wishes in everything else. To this day my father is a devout disciple of my husband! 

23 years of being married, now a true marriage veteran, I have recently dedicated myself to the cause of re-establishing lost traditions.




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