29/01/2025
'Ellare mane dose thuthu.’ (The dosa in every home has holes)
I first encountered these words during a research interview when a mother, troubled by a conflict at home, shared a deeply personal situation with me. As a researcher, I’m given a unique and privileged lens into the lives of others: the way children are raised, the struggles parents face, and the challenges families navigate every day. It’s an invaluable perspective, one that’s helped me realize something profound—that the struggles we face at home often feel personal and isolating, as though we’re the only ones going through them. But when we hear others' stories, it becomes clear that these challenges are far more universal than we think. What initially feels like a private problem transforms into a shared experience.
This realization is a gift. It brings comfort and normalizes the messiness of life, particularly childhood. We begin to understand that these ups and downs—like the fighting, the tears, or the distance between children—are not isolated incidents. They are part of the human condition. Every second child is experiencing similar things. And more importantly, it’s not a reflection of something inherently wrong with our children—it’s simply because they are children, and other children are too. We, as parents and adults, are stressed, overburdened, and often caught in the crossfire of expectations—whether from our own parents or society.
So, I gently reassured the mother, who was clearly weighed down by her situation, that these struggles are not hers alone. They happen in homes across the world. The feelings of frustration, the emotional distance between children, the confusion and misunderstandings—it’s not just her child. It’s part of growing up, part of the parenting journey. And when I said this, it seemed to resonate with her. In that moment, she smiled and replied with words I’ll never forget: 'Ellare mane dose thuthu.'
Loosely translated, it means 'The dosa in every home has holes.' This simple phrase hit me like a quiet epiphany. It’s a powerful metaphor that I will always carry with me. In just a few words, she conveyed something profound about life, about childhood, and about imperfection. Those holes in the dosa—those little gaps and imperfections—aren’t something to be ashamed of or hidden away. In fact, they’re what make the dosa enjoyable.
Just like life, a dosa without holes would be flat, heavy, and dense. The holes—the pauses, the imperfections, the moments of tension—are what make it light, airy, and ultimately satisfying. They are the spaces we’re given to breathe, to reflect, to slow down, and to course-correct.
The phrase shows us that life is complete—notwithstanding the holes. Most importantly, it’s a reminder that if we focus too much on the holes, we may lose sight of enjoying the dosa.
