“Behind every happy couple lies two people who have fought hard to overcome all obstacles and interference. Why? Because their relationship is important to them.” – Unknown
IT is heartbreaking when a blossoming relationship between two consenting adults is bulldozed by the very people who should be their biggest supporters: their own parents and family.
Sadly, this is not an uncommon story in many Indian households, especially here in Malaysia, where the community often holds tightly to traditional customs and misplaced notions of family honour.
Parental interference in the romantic lives of children, including who they date, get engaged to, or marry, is a pressing issue. It is, in fact, a silent epidemic within the Indian community that has claimed dreams, lives and the future happiness of many young people.
The victims are everywhere: colleagues, neighbours, even family members – silently carrying the weight of broken love stories crushed under the thumb of caste, class and cultural expectations.
Take, for instance, the recent tragedy involving my best friend’s cousin, a young chartered accountant, a Malayalee woman who took her own life. Her only ‘crime’? Falling in love with a Punjabi colleague, someone outside her ethnic group and not deemed ‘suitable’ by her parents.
Despite a six-year relationship built on mutual respect and understanding, her parents refused to accept him simply because he was “only an executive” and not of the same community or comparable social standing. Their rejection drove her to despair. And then, to the unthinkable.
One might assume that caste-based discrimination and intra-ethnic prejudice are things of the past. But in reality, they are alive and kicking, even thriving, within many Malaysian Indian households. North Indians won’t accept South Indians. Tamils reject Telugus. Malayalees scorn Punjabis.
Even within the same language group, families further divide by caste. It is as though every possible fault line is actively exploited; a deep-rooted need to preserve some imagined social purity.
This is not just racism! It is self-racism. Indians aren’t just discriminating against others; we are systematically alienating our own. No other community is as fractured along internal lines as the Malaysian Indian community. With over 200 ethnic sub-groups and dialects in the Indian diaspora, we have turned diversity into division.
We often hear about the Chinese being clannish or the Malays being insular. But let’s be honest: when it comes to deeply entrenched, irrational family interference and prejudice in marriage choices, the Indian community takes the cake. And we don’t even realise how damaging it is!
Why are parents still holding the reins? This question haunts every child who has ever faced this interference: why do Indian parents, even in the 21st century, feel entitled to dictate who their adult children should love or marry?
The answer lies in a potent mix of tradition, insecurity and a misguided sense of control. Many Indian parents view marriage not as a union of individuals, but as an alliance between families.
They worry about what society will think, how extended relatives will react, or whether the marriage will raise or lower the family’s perceived standing.
Education, employment and modernity may have transformed our outer lives, but they haven’t shifted our inner compass. Parents may drive luxury cars and send their kids to international schools, but many still harbour medieval mindsets when it comes to love and marriage.
Even siblings sometimes wade into this mess, trying to preserve family image or caste purity. But when a marriage fails or a tragedy strikes, will these same siblings take responsibility? Will they step up to fix what they helped break? Usually not.
What’s often lost in this web of tradition and “family honour” is the simple truth: it is the children who pay the ultimate price.
They are the ones who live with the consequences of a forced or sabotaged marriage. They are the ones navigating the wreckage of their dreams. If the marriage turns toxic or unhappy, the same parents who pushed for it often turn a blind eye.
“We did our best,” they’ll say. “It’s your fate.”
But why should young people suffer for the insecurities of the older generation?
Marriage is a lifelong commitment. It should be based on mutual love, trust and compatibility. Not on caste certificates or ethnic resumes. If two adults choose each other out of their own free will, why is that not enough?
To the Indian community in Malaysia, and to the diaspora at large, this is a wake-up call. Our obsession with old customs, honour and social appearances is destroying the lives of our children.
Let us be clear: no one is suggesting that parents shouldn’t offer guidance. Of course, wisdom from experience can be invaluable. But guidance is not the same as control. Counsel is not coercion.
If a child is marrying someone abusive, a criminal, or clearly harmful, please step in, by all means. But if two young professionals, grounded and in love, choose each other across ethnic lines, why are we calling it a scandal?
Let’s stop pretending that we’re doing it for their good. More often than not, we are doing it to protect our pride, our fragile egos and our standing in an equally judgmental community.
The reality is, parents won’t be around forever. And siblings have their own lives. So why interfere in a decision whose outcome you will not carry?
The world has changed. Interracial and interethnic marriages are becoming more common and more accepted. The younger generation values shared interests and emotional compatibility over caste and clan. Why shouldn’t they?
We must allow our children to grow, to love, to stumble and to learn. That is how real maturity is built. That is how real communities are strengthened – by encouraging freedom, not enforcing conformity.
The Indian community must take a hard look at itself. It’s time to stop blaming others – the government, other races, external systems – for our lack of unity or progress.
We must clean our own backyard first. That means discarding divisive traditions. It means refusing to perpetuate racism within our own ranks. It means embracing education, economic empowerment and above all emotional intelligence.
The community needs to stop glorifying family image at the cost of individual happiness. Let us focus on building the next generation’s resilience, not chaining them to regressive values.
All overprotective parents and siblings out there, remember this: love is not a caste. Compatibility is not a community. Marriage is not a merger of family pride!
Let love decide.
The views expressed here are those of the columnist and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at rajlira@gmail.com
