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Behind closed doors of our lonely elderly

Mahdia Binte Zaman | January 22, 2025 00:00:00


What if your only surviving parent comes to you one day and says, with an earnest plea, "I want to move to an old age home." Not because of any neglect on your part but because of something far more heartbreaking-Loneliness. How would you feel? Guilt? Confusion? A pang of hurt? Despite your efforts to keep the people you love close, your parents still feel alone, as they call it in Bengali "Ekaki", and believe a nursing home might offer some solace.

In the fast-changing socio-economic environment of the sub-continent, the unspoken challenge of Loneliness among older adults is increasingly becoming a concern. "Loneliness is as hazardous as smoking 15 cigarettes a day," said Dr. William Petrie, professor of clinical psychiatry at Vanderbilt Medical Center. Bangladesh is often regarded as a society that deeply values family bonds, where elders are cared for within extended family structures. However, societal shifts have disrupted this tradition.

A study conducted by Nobel laureates Esther Duflo and Abhijit Banerjee reveals that the rates of depression among the elderly in the subcontinent are twice as high as those in the United States. This situation is worsened by a notable increase in elderly people living alone, rising from 10% in 2013 to 20% today. Dr Sushma, a psychologist specializing in geriatrics, states, "Loneliness doesn't always imply being completely alone. It is a sense of disconnection. Even within nuclear families, parents may experience isolation because their children frequently prioritize work or studies over meaningful interactions."

For 74-year-old Halima Parvin, the days are long and silent in her two-bedroom flat in Mirpur. Her son, Faisal, moved to Canada five years ago for better career prospects, and her daughter lives in Chattogram with her in-laws. "When Faisal calls, he asks how I'm doing," Halima says, tears welling in her eyes. "What can I say? I tell him I'm fine. Why should he worry when he's working so hard abroad?"

Halima spends her days tending to a small garden on her balcony and cooking meals that often go uneaten. "I make his favourite dishes sometimes," she says, holding back her emotions. "It makes me feel like he's still here." In our neighbouring country, India, this phenomenon is often referred to as PICA-Parents in India, Children Abroad-prevalent in regions like Punjab, where families see migration as a path to a better future.

The shrinking of the traditional family unit has meant that elderly individuals no longer automatically live with their children once their spouse passes away or their children move out. What was once a defining feature of Bengali culture-the extended family system-is increasingly being replaced by smaller nuclear families. With children marrying and starting their own lives, elderly parents are often left to navigate their existence, with some opting for solitude out of personal preference.

This transition is often seen as a byproduct of Western influences or a growing awareness of personal space. This cultural shift is not without its challenges, as many elderly people, especially those whose children have relocated abroad, are forced into isolation. However, this solitude can also offer a form of liberation, allowing seniors to relish their individuality after years of living under the constraints of family life.

For many, living alone is not a choice but an unavoidable reality. Rashed, a migrant worker from Bhola, left his village eight years ago to pursue opportunities in Dhaka. Now living in a shabby slum in Mirpur due to high costs, he expresses helplessness about his parents' isolation. "I know they're alone in the village, but what can I do? There's no work back home. Whatever little I earn, I send it to them, even if it takes days to arrange the money." The economic pressures on younger generations have further complicated this issue.

Over time, many of these elderly people begin to master their sense of solitude. They set up schedules and to-do lists. They find it easier to immerse in religious devotion without the ties of sharing physical space and finish their knitting, cooking, cleaning, and reading. Despite living miles away from her children, Halima Parvin has found a way to lead a fulfilling life by embracing new interests and social connections. She recently started gardening on her veranda, where she tends to plant, and she also exchanges tips about gardening with her neighbours and peers. Like her, an increasing number of senior citizens in Dhaka and beyond are finding ways to stay engaged. Some have started morning yoga sessions in neighbourhood parks, while others gather for weekly discussions about literature and current events over cups of steaming tea.

However, for many, living alone in later years is accompanied by an overwhelming sense of loss. In Bengali society, where familial bonds and intergenerational cohabitation are deeply rooted, being physically distant from children is often perceived as abandonment.

For Halima Begum, the hope of a family dinner with her son remains a distant dream. But she still keeps his room tidy, holding on to the belief that one day, he will return-not just for a visit, but to stay. The silence in her flat is broken only by the hum of the ceiling fan. But in her heart, there's a quiet prayer: no parent in any corner of Bangladesh has to endure this Loneliness alone.

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