For decades we have heard that families that dine together bond together. Now studies show that family dinners can also protect teenagers from cyber-bullying. Of course, there are case studies, statistics, graphs and other things to support this conclusion, but I have not really understood how they help.

This I do know: our family dinners helped make us what we are. Whether they helped us deal sensibly with bullying or grow up better adjusted than others, I am not so sure.

As teenagers, dinnertime was one of the highlights of the day and we made sure we were in time for it, home from wherever we had gone in the evening. There was nothing on the outside that was tastier than what we got at home, and there was always plenty to go around even if we had a couple of friends with us. Those two factors — quality and quantity — compensated for everything else we went through at mealtimes.

I am certain our parents intended family dinners to be civilised affairs with all of us using the right forks and knives and displaying perfect table manners, raising topics that would lead to intelligent conversation, and in general, demonstrating good behaviour all around.

But that is not what usually happened. While Father would show off his prowess with the cutlery, we would struggle to take the meat off the bone of a juicy leg of chicken. We were hungry, the meal looked delicious. We couldn’t allow unnecessary time to elapse and quickly, when we thought he was not looking, we would use our fingers and tear a chunk of meat and start chewing.

Table manners

In our haste, naturally, what we got our teeth into was not a mere morsel we could bite daintily, so as Father put down his knife and fork and looked up, he caught us in various stages of grotesquely stuffed mouths. With a frown, he would launch into a lesson in table manners and the muttering would begin. ‘This is independent India, Dad. We’re free. We’re Indian. No need for the fancy cutlery that’s a relic of the Raj. What’s wrong with using our fingers to relish our food?’

Mother would sense a civil disobedience movement rising and quickly try to steer the dialogue in other directions and regale us with what had happened in her school that day. That was the launch pad for the next set of unsavoury behaviour. ‘And do you want to know what your son / daughter did today in school / college?’ one of us would say, and there would be a flurry of angry words. ‘You little sneak, just wait till I get you alone...’ accompanied by a sly pinch or a kick under the table...that usually landed on the wrong person and led to general mayhem.

In the midst of this, we served ourselves ‘second helpings’, even thirds, which was another reason to go: ‘He pushed!’ ‘She shoved!’ ‘He’s taken my favourite bit!’ ‘She’s already had three!’

The stern ‘Go to your room!’ which would have sorted out the problem was not heard — or wilfully ignored — and thus, when order was restored at last, it was usually time for dessert. The prospect of something sweet worked wonders for our tempers. The ‘tattlers’ had not got their tales completely heard in all the action and one would imagine that all was forgiven and forgotten in the general bonhomie of satiated appetites.

But it was not. Because, after those ‘happy’ family dinners, we had to face the music with our siblings — and there, pushed up against the bedroom wall, we learnt how to stand up to the older ones, deal with the younger ones and generally fend for ourselves.

And became the not-so-pleasant adults we are.

Cheryl Rao is a freelance journalist based in India.