by Rekha Basu
The baby was fussy, resisting his mother’s efforts to keep him on his back to prevent spit-ups after a feeding. His newly discovered freedom, unleashed by learning to roll onto his stomach, was conflicting with that agenda.
Observing the conflict, his grandmother weighed in: “When he starts to turn, give him some toys and he’ll stay.” It worked. From a distance of 9,521 miles (18.75 flying hours) and a 12-hour time difference.
Living in Singapore hasn’t stopped Uma and Paddy Padmanabhan from being present since our shared grandson, 7-month-old Kavi Padmanabhan Borsellino, came home from the hospital in New York in August. His maternal grandparents were there in person then, for playtimes, bath times and more. They still sing to him, recite nursery rhymes and remember the names of his stuffed animals. But since January, they’ve taken part in those daily rituals virtually, refusing to let what my late mother called the “tyranny of distance” come between them and their only grandchild. Bridging that vast gulf are a couple of laptops and FaceTime.
In recent weeks I’ve been living in New York, witnessing those 8:30 a.m. interactions, and marveling at how effective they can be. These technologies didn’t exist when my own parents inconveniently decided to move back to India after my sister and I had built our lives here. I used to chide my mother that the “tyranny” she lamented was of her own making: If she really wanted to be closer to us, she could have stayed here
But as my own path would subsequently teach me, it’s seldom so black and white. You can legitimately be pulled in two different directions at once, the way I was when I moved my family from New York to Des Moines three decades ago to work for the Register. Later my older son found his way to New York and my younger one to Los Angeles. “What goes around … ” as they say.
New grandparents are often cautioned to mind their own business and hold their advice. But traditional extended Indian families used to include several generations under one roof. When young couples were having marriage problems, their parents often mediated. When babies came along, grandparents helped raise them.
Uma Padmanabhan’s in-laws lived with her and her husband, Paddy, in India when their daughter, Aadhithi, was born. Uma was working full time, so they helped with everything. Uma and Paddy did the same for Aadhithi and my son, Raj, when Kavi was a newborn.
Much has changed since earlier times thanks to emigration, Westernization and some conflict-inducing power dynamics. Being separated by borders is often unavoidable in the pursuit of higher education, safety from war zones or flight from poverty. For some parents, putting their children first means trading away their proximity to them for opportunities they wouldn’t find at home. So, in these ways, they adapt.
In America, grandparents are changing too. They’re often apt to still be working, not sitting by the fireplace in fuzzy slippers, their white hair pinned back in buns, as depicted in the old storybooks I’ve been catching up on. Grandmothers are living longer — which research suggests may be linked to their being grandmothers: “to provide benefits to their grown offspring and grandchildren,” according to a 2021 Agence France-Presse article Paddy sent me. It cites brain studies showing grandmothers are actually hard-wired for special bonding with their grandchildren.
Since COVID-19 began, more parents have opened their doors to children who lost or left their jobs; in some cases, multiple generations are now living under the same roof here in America. In 2020, 52% of young adults, ages 18 to 29 — the highest proportion since the Great Depression — were living with one or both parents, according to a Pew Research Center study.
As this is happening, adults of grandparenting age are also growing more independent. Uma is a lecturer in the school of sports, heath and leisure at a college in Singapore. She doesn’t have to work, but wants to keep her brain active and stay motivated. Some older Americans are traveling more and even moving abroad in retirement. Communication technologies allow them to connect with family regardless of place.
These days I have the luxury of indulging in Kavi’s presence in person. In fact I’m staying with him and his parents in the apartment I grew up in from age 10 until I left for college. My parents bought and kept it even after setting up in India, dividing their time between both countries.
It’s said you can’t go home again, but right now I’m typing at the circular teak table around which we ate dinners back then; looking out the corner windows of what used to be the dining room, now the baby’s play room. I’m reflecting on the signs of continuity and change all around me.
Being here now makes me extra nostalgic for my past and parents, but being here with the kids and Kavi infuses this place with new excitement. It’s just tempered by the fact that my son and daughter-in-law will soon be moving to Baltimore and the apartment will likely be sold.
I’ve not been good at pursuing relationships virtually, but I’m learning by watching the Padmanabhans manage theirs with Kavi from a distance. He and I will also need to find a way to keep the closeness we’ve developed after I go back to Des Moines. This, after all, is the price of freedom. And as he’s learning from being able to roll on his tummy, there is risk in progress. But it’s worth it.
