The Umbilical Stranglehold

We all love watching movies, they are a great source of entertainment, of escape, of distraction. But what we sometimes forget is that we are witnessing reality and that we can draw wisdom from Netflix and Prime.

Recently, OTT platforms have been streaming movies like Mrs. and The Girlfriend. A take on the daily plight of young women, most of us can relate, regardless of class. We are all part of this cultural trauma, where the newly married wife finds herself disillusioned, loosing her sense of self, that was so lovingly nurtured by her own parents. Its a trans-generational dilemma.

The illusion of love and a happily ever after (Disney complex 101) and the rude awakening that follows. It begins with micro-aggressions that slowly transform into a natural disaster. Its not the result of two lovers quarrelling, its bigger than that. Its a young woman versus a system. A system, that is so tightly knit, so oppressive, so disrespectful, that the boy (he may look like a man, but we are dealing with a man-child) still attached to his mothers umbilical cord, betrays his companion.

And what can we as women do? Wait… wait for him to change? Wait for him to grow up? Wait for him to cut the umbilical cord to his mother?

So, in Mrs and The Girlfriend, we see the classic, textbook patriarchy play out. The archetypical female mother succumbs to patriarchy. She is voiceless, submissive, a doormat. Her son, is an alpha who mimics his father. He continues to repeat the abusive pattern he grew up with, towards his wife or girlfriend and society at large. But since we are now in 2025, our protagonists Bhooma Devi (The Girlfriend) and Richa (Mrs) are able to break free! Hurray.

There is though, another archetype of the mother, that we explored in form of Jaya Bachchan in Rocky aur Rani, the “devouring” mother. Here the neglected mother becomes the oppressor and continues to hold up the flame of patriarchy. She possess her son, and kills his lover, metaphorically speaking. Her own husband is non-existent, he’s checked out of the marriage, fatherhood, and so the mother suffocates her son with her needs, wants and desires. The son becomes the husband. And we, as girlfriends and wives, witness an incestuous dynamic play out, finding ourselves caught in the midst of a dysfunctional triangle.

Relationship triangles are inherently toxic, ONE must die, for the other TWO to be happy, as Kuch Kuch Hota Hai has taught us. But this mother-son- lover triangle is a lived reality for many young women today. Its deeply harmful. Many women don’t have a choice to leave, stuck in a cycle of abuse and humiliation, robbed of joy, talent and expression.

Some of us have the strength to leave, but we are left reeling with the damage the abuse has caused. We sign up for an illusion, a fantasy and once you realise whats going on, your in too deep. Too attached, too committed.

The façade lasts for the first three months. Then it slowly fades. Slowly the harm creeps in. Mother and son are a unit, and ‘YOU can’t sit within us’ is the tagline. If you want to fit in, you better play along. Your ideas will be overridden, your freedom will be bound, your being will never be good enough.

With time, it becomes worse. As You, the wife or partner lose all value. Emotional needs are fully met by the ‘devouring’ mother, and she makes sure to keep it that way, at all costs. We only exist for the physical release and public appearances, which wears off with time, as any doormat does.

We loose in every way possible: dignity, joy, confidence. The abuse unfolds in layers, at first its emotional, then mental, then physical. Everything we have been given by our own parents, our teachers, by the people that love us, is diminished the moment we step into this love triangle we blindly became part of.

A relationship or marriage is not between two people, its between a young woman and a boy, his mother and his family jing bang. You may give it your all, hopeful that one day, this boy that you love, may turn out to be the person you saw when you chose him. But who knew that the cool, progressive, well-travelled husband-to-be just catfished you?

In reality, you signed up to be with a little boy, who still sucks at his mothers nipples. And Mama wouldn’t want it any other way.

At first, we stay out of hope. Then the toxicity grows, the suffering intensifies. We overstay, even though one is turned off by his un-manlieness, by his betrayal. And One Fine Day, he replaces you with Mama’s consent of course. Because YOU are always the problem.

So ladies, prepare to die.

Let the memories die.

Let the trauma die.

Let the attachment die.

The suffering ends here.

Today is a new day, a new life, a new birth with a joyous mind.