The Fabric of Family

Dipika Gandhi

It was 26thJuly 1984 when a single shocking incident saw my bubbly, affluent and healthy family become victims of a roller coaster of tragic events that loosened the threads of bonding and faded the colours of affection to eventually weaken the fabric of family.

It was this year when my only brother was kidnapped at the age of seven never to be found till this day. Shock, fear, anxiety, hopelessness, and anger were the emotions that governed our daily existence. The vacuum created living with one less family member was profound. Home and school didn’t seem a happy place anymore and parents lost all zeal and zest in life. It took me a while to accept how our home would be temporarily inundated with CID police, private detectives, and security personnel to protect me and my two sisters from the daily ransom calls. My parents left no stone unturned as they travelled extensively across states and at times to meet distinguished astrologers all to follow any clues of his whereabouts.

Life continued the slow path and soon my parents succumbed to depression, temporary loss of memory where each day we would come home from school hoping for a smile and hoping they would recognise us. Patience, hope, and resilience were our newfound pillars of strength and survival.

The uncertainty and unpredictable life showed no mercy – this time my mother was admitted in the ICU for over a month for being unconscious and unresponsivea neurologic condition that caused temporary coma. The brief visits of the ICU were a painful snapshot of her suffering and there was total respect for the team of doctors and nurses who shouldered the responsibility of extensive medical care and support.

During this time, I took a semester off from college. Time and pain had no boundaries -a few years later mum was diagnosed with Malignant Melanoma.

She survived for two years before passing away in 1993. What I remember from those two years wasn’t a typical picture of a gloomy patient, I saw a woman willing to live her life to the fullest and enjoy the intricacies of life every single day. That was when I noticed my mum’s greatest quality.

My father finds less mention as he was experiencing his own mental health issues.

Whilst the thread of parental support was weakening, friends played a huge role in strengthening the fabric with their mentorship, companionship, and moral support. Their existence was a real blessing in disguise. They made carbon copy notes, photocopy of textbooks, visits and meals to the hospital, timely donation of blood, helping pay my college tuition fees, lending me sarees and dresses for important events and much more. I must confess I longed to be around them as I laughed with them, cried with them, and completed my studies with them.

Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations. Entering the journey of married life opened a whole new world of love and care. My new family was welcoming, and I felt a strong sense of belonging. I was rebuilding my life and felt like a decomposed seed ready to sprout. I was redefining my character and wardrobe which meant discovering the simplicity and elegance of wearing a saree that soon became a symbol of stability and grace.

It was in the year 2000 when we migrated to the land down under where Sydney became our new adopted home. It was in 2008 when my father passed away. He was diagnosed with nasopharyngeal carcinoma and suffered from a heart attack. It was a sad feeling losing both parents, but I had carried the baggage of resilience and strength and continued to embrace my motherhood journey and watch our two boys conquer special milestones. New friendships continued to expand across continents adding new colours and patterns to the

fabric of family.

As much as I loved being Indian and celebrating my traditions, my mind was in constant conflict trying to keep up between the two cultures. So, during my earlier years in Sydney as a homemaker, I engaged in volunteering activities in school and wider communities promoting Incredible India through food, culture, and clothing.

However, being part of my religious community and joining Poornima Menon’s Saree Club, allowed me to stay connected to my roots, grow in spiritual strength, and extend my social network. Being part of the Saree club is a representation that women are not bound solely by the fabric of the five yards but by the collective pride in who we were, where we have come from and what we will be.

For the monumental role friends and family have played in my life, I became a more giving person and continue to inhale my blessings and exhale gratitude. Each friend and family member has contributed in their own unique way to help me rise to the challenges and shape me to who I am today.

While my mother was an epitome of strength, my friendship over the years is an embodiment of support, respect, and care.

Families and friends are like fabric, although they tend to unravel at times each can be stitched back together with love, compassion and understanding.