*Trigger Warning: Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Death*
When I finished House of Secrets: Burari Deaths on Netflix, I had several questions in my mind. But the most prominent one, the one asked multiple times during the series—why?
A typical Indian “perfect” joint family. The patriarch decides and the family nods. They study, work, cook and pray. They talk to neighbours, celebrate and have fun. Until it wasn’t perfect. In fact, the world woke up to the jerk that the family was far from perfect.
There were apparently many things wrong with the family. Why did the girls in that and also in Lalit’s friend’s family have to be servile? Why could nobody, even out of childish inquisitiveness, question the head of the family? Does a healthy family not consider everyone’s opinion and intention before deciding something? Why did nobody tell their friends, relatives or the police about the mysterious diary, the voices and orders?
But most importantly, when Lalit was acutely traumatised with the murder attempt on him, why was his mental health unaddressed? At the cost of sounding insensitive and rude, let me ask, could the Burari deaths be prevented if Lalit got treated for his mental health issues?
The family knew he needed psychiatric help. They were educated enough, as they mention that his wife did her masters in sociology and one of the girls was working at an MNC. Yet, all that dissuaded them from seeking requisite help was the fear of societal stigma—the core belief that only “mad” people go to a psychiatrist.
“Log kya kahenge“ has claimed numerous lives in India already and still continues to. Even educated, independent and self-declared modern families are scared to take rational decisions precisely because “Log kya kahenge?”.
Like a doctor mentions in the series, there is a thin line between faith and superstition. Almost all of us have personal and religious faiths, which we abide by. It is up to us to ensure that our and our loved ones’ faiths do not become superstitions.
It hurts how the families and people connected to them have fond and pleasant memories with the departed. They were friends, brothers and sisters. Nobody could have thought in their wildest dreams that they would take such a drastic step. They projected an image of a flawless Indian family. Or they reminded us that the Indian family structure that we normalise is a highly flawed one.
The fact that Lalit had mental health issues for years together and it was kept a “family secret” reveals two things. Knowing about mental is one thing; implementing knowledge is another.
For many people, mental health means going mad and being admitted to a mental asylum. We do not know what it is, the stages, the symptoms and how we can help. As the family was educated, they should have had an idea. Even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t come as a surprise.
The family conveniently believed that their dead father was talking to them through Lalit. It didn’t end there—they obeyed his orders like law. They believed it would do them good. They feared disobeying him would be ominous for the family. It seems like a cluster of ignorance, superstition and patriarchy.
The documentary reminded me of a recent and unfortunately similar incident—two women were killed by their parents as a part of some ritual. The mother said that they got god’s message to do so and their daughters would come back to life. They were both teachers, by the way; they said theirs was a spiritual family.
Spiritual beliefs are supposed to make us stronger. Our faith is supposed to make us tide through tough times and keep reminding us of love and optimism. It is unfathomable, tragic and definitely to be questioned that these very faiths are becoming the reasons family members kill each other.
It also reminds us of how we need to talk about mental health. Yes, we. From seemingly perfect and happy-go-lucky families. We mustn’t shy away from being there for our loved ones suffering from any health issues, though we may be mocked for it. We must create families where everyone gets to speak and listen, be it young or old, man or woman.
The idea that one head of the family has supreme power and in his absence, the family would be clueless looks unhealthy and terrifying. This “head” is most probably a man. It wouldn’t be easy to question the power structures of joint families that have passed down generations. What would be easier is to be the good Indian daughter-in-law.
The only way we can stop another Burari or Madanapalle from being in tomorrow’s news is by talking about mental health, decision making power and the family secrets we are strictly told not to talk about.