The Eternal Dilemma...

The dusk has set in. I choose not to use tubelights today, I want a particular effect that is obtained in dim lighting. Three minutes into our meeting, we're plunged into a silence. Not a comfortable, companiable silence, but an awkward, uneasy one. Not a silence where one doesn't have anything to say. But a silence where one has just too much to say, but also too much is at stake in saying it all. A silence that is very open to interpretations...
I wait watchfully, to see who opens the conversation. Noone does. I feel the pressure of time ticking away on my wrist. If we don't get talking in the next hour, we wait for another seven days. And the last seven days, from the looks of it, haven't been good.
"Ok, Someone's got to start. I don't think this has been a good week."
That's the father. He always takes the initiative in these sessions. That is, when I don't.
"Why do you feel so?" I ask.
"Why don't you ask her?" He gestures towards his 16-year old.
She remains silent, glance averted, mouth set in a determined line. Something about that stance says "I so badly want to be indifferent to this drama, but I can't."
"Its your feeling. Why don't you talk about it first and then we can take it from there." I put the ball back in his court.
He explains that he was very miffed that his daughter was listening to music on MTV (which incidentally had a video of skimpily clad women) at 8 am instead of joining the family for prayers. He switched off the TV. She threw her coffee mug in the middle of the living room. They walked out on each other and didn't talk for the rest of the week.
Tension thickens. Emotions soar. Noone is willing to look the other in the eye. The mother who has been a relatively inactive participant in most sessions looks askance at me...as though she is willing me to mend the situation...or their daughter as the case may be for her. I call upon her to talk about it.
"She should sit with us and pray. These are family values. She should follow them. All we ask for is 10 minutes in the day." I suspect the coming up of a tirade and check it.
I look at the individual in question. Intelligent and outspoken in most previous encounters, she is suddenly rendered demure...as if in face of the number against her. She has an expression of one being teamed against. She looks up at me, carefully avoiding her parents' eyes.
"I don't believe in God. So what's the point?"
"Maybe its our fault. We should have taught her religion when she was younger." The father's voice filters into my subconscious, as I vaguely wonder if religion or faith can be taught. Perhaps it can. But can it, really?
"Its my decision, so will you stop blaming yourselves?" The girl sounds distraught and angry all at once. The anger is clearly one which is not allowed expression, nor existence. It's as though she wants to sound like an adult- independent, strong, firm and composed. The effect is opposite, she is on the verge of tears. She knows that the phase of talking her mind is only restricted to the session.
The father looks angry, but it is evident he is checking his emotions. "We are trying so hard to reach out, beta. Why do you have to make this so difficult?" Those words remain unspoken, but I sense them in the offing. I also sense that the reason they are unspoken could be that they may signify defeat in a way.
"So many people before us have been following these things. Are they all fools?" He asks instead.
"Why do you want me to do something just because you and your ancestors did it? Don't I have a right to a mind of my own?" She is in tears now. Angry, helpless tears.
"What is it that you want?" I ask her.
"I don't want to be forced to pray. I don't want to do things that I don't believe in."
"Is this really about religion? Is that what this is about?" I ask.
There is a pause. Long pause.
"Not really."
Another long pause.
" I don't want to be told what to do all the time." There is a finality in her tone that worries me, it makes me wonder whether we will talk anymore.
"Because..." I feel the need to lead her on.
Another long silence. A very pregnant pause.
And then an outburst.
"It makes me feel this small!" She holds up her thumb and index finger an inch or two apart. "Don't I have a right to think and decide for myself? Everyone except me knows whats good for me."
"Maybe you are too young to understand certain things. Your decisions in the past have reflected your immaturity. You want us to take risks with your future again?" The father says, also distraught.
"Maybe I wanted to make those mistakes, and learn from them!" That was a near-fatal blow. Now the parents look scared.
"You can't survive in this world making many mistakes. When you have wisdom and experience in front of you, why would you need to make mistakes?"
I quail. This is getting to be a dialogue. Not a conversation.
"Maybe because your experiences don't work for me, Dad! I'm a different person. I need my own experiences."
"Why can't you understand-" They stop in surprise. Both have spoken the exact same words at the exact same moment. And indeed, the crux of the issue. Understanding. Theoretically, the easiest thing to do. And practically, the toughest.
My mind applauds the moment. I look from one to the other. And hit upon a universal truth. Understanding the emotional needs of another person and responding to them accurately is a very very difficult thing to do. Even if you are bound by ties of blood. Or those of a client and therapist.

P.S.: I know, J this may cut close to what I read the other day, but couldn't help...I just had to post this...