Women, dreams and the patriarchy

Living a life deemed audacious by the patriarchy is a worthy act of rebellion to escape its suffocating confines.

Nearly a year ago, I bought a house in a tiny country at the bottom of the world, far, far away from the land of my birth, and everyone I had known and loved for the first 30 years of my life.

The experience has been equal parts joy and terror.

When the balance tips a tad too much to the terror end (as it often does), I remind myself that I am living a life that - Ajji - my grandmother could only dream of.

Years ago, Ajji confided in me that her only dream as a young girl was to find a job in the city after she had graduated high school, and live a single life in Mumbai in an apartment to call her own. However, the family elders had other plans, and she soon found herself married and immersed in a life nourishing home and her brood of children and grandchildren for the rest of her life.

A few years into her marriage, Ajji was well set into the rhythms of servile domesticity that becomes the Indian joint family. Between Ajji and Kaki ajji (my grandaunt), they cooked and tended to the needs of 13 family members every single day. By the time she was 40, she was helping raise five children, two of whom were close to graduating university. That she still emerged fairly content towards the end of it all with only a pinprick of regret is more a testament to the woman that she was than anything else.

Ajji (left) with her younger sister in 2018

My life at 40 is a far cry from Ajji’s, yet near identical to a life she once dreamed of. I am no longer married, don’t have children, and happily share my new home with two peculiar, utterly loveable cats.

At this point, I should just buy the t-shirt peddled to me by sponsored Instagram posts that sum up my life really well - ‘I never dreamed I’d grow up to be a crazy cat lady, but here I am killing it!’

That women are choosing peace, happiness and cats over problematic men is a terrifying thing to consider for many men like J D Vance.

My two cats Jilby (left) and Chumpy (aka Champak)

But in proudly living one of pop culture’s most enduring sexist tropes, I am declaring rebellion to dismantle the patriarchy, one crazy cat lady at a time.

It wasn’t isn’t easy. When the patriarchy peddles us a limited set of dreams, building a life outside the traditional ‘normal’ of what marriage or family look like makes you an awkward aberration in the eyes of many.

The World Population Review’s page on divorce rates by country calls marriage a cultural universal, an institution so fundamental to the human experience that there are no known examples of a society that functions without it. In India, while divorces are on the rise, the country still reports among the lowest rates of divorce in the world (0.01 per 1000 people). This, of course, has more to do with cultural and legal barriers than marital satisfaction but that’s another story.

This means many desi families are often in denial, awkward and clueless about how they treat a person going through a separation or divorce.

I was extremely lucky during my ordeal to have the security blanket of my extended family, or at least 95 percent of them.

Parents looked after me and treated me to their complete presence in the way parents do. Cousins, aunts and uncles made meticulous plans to spend quality time with me. A dear aunt defied centuries of norms when she insisted on including me in a cultural ritual otherwise reserved for ‘married women’. And when I needed to retreat within and put some armour on for the world, Ajji the sweetest, quietly checked in with my older cousin that I was doing okay.

Hold on to this core crew for dear life.

For dealing with the remaining 5 percent non-entities, I will say this. Grow a thick skin to bear the searing judgement you will be subjected to. A stark realisation I had was that when there’s no longer a ‘husband’ in the picture, relatives (largely, men) will project their own fears on you, test your emotional boundaries, and give you unsolicited advice. Family members who were once cheerfully cordial will suddenly cast you awkward, furtive glances and fumble at conversation because they don't know how to relate to you now that you are - shudder - divorced.

Ignore it all and don't look back. Most folks (desi or otherwise) have no template yet to imagine a life outside the familiar box of marriage, children and traditional families. Unsurprisingly, two desi women I recently got introduced to in my new neighbourhood had a near identical reaction to my living situation.

“Aap akele rehte ho? Koi bhi family nahi hai yahan?” (You live alone? No family here at all?)

My audacious “yes” leaves them bewildered. Hell, it leaves me bewildered sometimes.

There are mornings I wake up and wonder how I came to buy a house for I, me and myself in a tiny island country in a far flung corner of the South Pacific ocean. That’s when terror comes to reign.

The upheaval that comes from buying and moving into a new house far away from the home you have known, and the overwhelm of juggling home, mortgage, work, bills and investments and more is enough to shake the sturdiest of souls. It’s harder for single women who have no female family role models who have lived alone and unattached to men. It’s even more challenging if they come from heteronormative societies that most value women in terms of their marriage-derived relationships with men (wife, daughter, sister…etc).

So know that it takes a while for women like us to reclaim and enjoy our own space. With or without cats. To fall into a reassuring rhythm and routine of home that’s all your own. To know that you can enjoy opening your heart and home to friends, family and friends like family as much as you enjoy retreating to your haven when you crave solitude. To learn that it’s not selfish to put yourself at the centre of your life.

Give it time. Give it radical acceptance. And joy is sure to tiptoe in.

.