Breakfast Babble is ED’s own little space on the interwebs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up (or not) for the day. We judge things, too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in, people.
Every time someone posts a photo with their friends and captions it “My chosen family”, a part of me dies inside. Not that I dislike love or togetherness, but have you truly met Indian families?
“Chosen family” is the biggest insult you can give your poor, well-meaning friends. They didn’t sign up for this trauma. See, I don’t call my friends my family. Not out of disrespect. Quite the opposite, actually. I respect them too much to compare them to the walking-talking WhatsApp-forward factories I’m related to by birth.
My friends don’t ask me when I’ll get married every time I so much as cough on the phone. They don’t send me unsolicited biodata or screenshots of boys with “stable jobs” and “clean habits.” They don’t say “tumse toh chhoti hai Sharma ji ki beti, aur dekho kya kar rahi hai!” when I fail at something. They say, “F*ck Sharma ji and his beti, let’s get chai.”
My friends don’t keep a scorecard of how many times they helped me move houses versus how many times I remembered their dog’s birthday. They help because they care, not because they expect a dramatic emotional return on investment like it’s a Karan Johar film.
Also, when I rant about life, my friends listen. Like, actually listen. Not like family, where mid-rant someone interrupts with “haan beta, par fridge mein dudh rakh diya kya?” or worse, “tumhe toh problem hi nahi honi chahiye, humare time mein” (insert trauma dump). Family trauma Olympics is not the sport I signed up for.
Also Read: How To Deal With Toxic Family Or Parents
Empathy? Friends have it in truckloads. Family? They operate on a barter system of emotional currency. You cry? They’ll match it with guilt. You succeed? They’ll remind you how much they struggled to make it happen. You fail? They’ll still make it about themselves.
Friends ask me how I am and wait for the answer. Family asks how I am and then tells me how I should be instead. Friends make space for your mistakes. Families build monuments of their failures and light diyas around them annually.
So no, I won’t insult my beautiful, supportive, chaos-loving, meme-sharing, tea-holding, life-saving friends by calling them family. That title is reserved for people who love you conditionally and remind you of it at every family function.
Let’s just call friends what they are: people who choose to stay even after seeing your drunk, crying face on a video call at 2 am. Now that’s sacred.
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under: friends not family, indian families be like, emotional trauma dump, real support system, desi satire, quirky blogs, friends over fam, chosen family? No thanks, meme therapy, WhatsApp forwards aren’t love
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