I discover new cousins and cousins of cousins and distant aunts and uncles and cousins of aunts and uncles every time we visit India. Just when I think I have a grip on the degrees of separation, Tarun informs me that I have it all wrong.
Many of our relatives think Tarun and I are related, but we are not. Absent our parents, this is the best explanation I can provide of the alleged connection.
There was a man. He married a woman. I descended from that union. Let’s take baby steps from here.
That woman dies.
The man remarries.
Tarun is descended from the second wife’s brother.
Not the second wife. Her brother. The said man is not a common ancestor. No relation, correct? Not so! In Bengali circles, the first wife’s family, the second wife’s family and the man’s family all become “related” upon marriage, genetics not withstanding. Same thing with the neighborhood kid you played with as a child and the elder down the street who hung out with your parents.
Parar mama - the neighborhood uncle - is a bonafide relative and you risk divine wrath by declining to call him by the appropriate moniker.
As it is I have trouble keeping track of those related by blood. Throw in the ones from the outer circles and the neighbors I’ve never met and I am completely befuddled by the constantly evolving membership.
I took little interest in the guess-the-relationship game until recently. My mom, MIL and brother were exceptionally talented at it and I relied on their expertise. Now that they are gone, I try the best I can.
A cousin’s wife shared this Bengali couplet that perfectly encapsulates the depths of the confusion we create:
Mamar khate biyailo gai
Shei shutre mamato bhai
Loosely translated this means: a bull calf was born on my uncle’s farm and that makes him my cousin!
In the City of Joy, otherwise known as Calcutta (anglicized) and Kolkata (Bengali), Tarun and I reconnected with two aunts, nine cousins and their spouses, five children of cousins and their spouses and one child of a nephew. To simplify things, we qualify cousins as “cousin brother” or “cousin sister” and their children as nephews and nieces.
Did that make you stop in your tracks?!
Here’s why this makes perfect sense.
Given the size of the typical extended family, if we follow the western labels of second cousin or second cousin once, twice, thrice removed, we will drive ourselves mad. We are good at math but not that good. The appropriate sibling suffix on the word cousin helps us deal with the maze of relationships with reasonable ease.
While we laugh or roll our eyes at the size of our tribe and the loose connections that can be stronger than real ones, I am saddened that my understanding of the ecosystem is rather weak. Our children have a tenuous connection at best. Their children will have none. Add to that what our 91-year old aunt with a smart phone astutely observed - nobody talks to anybody anymore; everyone is hunched on their phones and becoming increasingly isolated.
Between lack of knowledge and lack of interest, I am afraid we are staring at an abyss. Despite being on the edge, I will keep trying even if I fail. Thanks to our wonderfully vibrant and massive clan for two perfect days. You have left me with a lasting gift - from here on out, I will be introducing Tarun and me as bovine cousins!
Until we meet again, hang tight, stay safe and keep the familial vines carefully curated.

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