When Work Means a dearth of Good Matches

Work, work, and more work. Work defines my life. If there's one axis around which my life revolves, it has to be my job. I have been working from a young age and have been working in my current job for the last twelve years. My job as a State Service officer involves frequent transfers along with a lot of travel. In the last twelve years, I had four postings across four different districts. Some of these postings have been to places too far away from my home to commute daily.

While men working in similar positions had quite a demand in the job market, I often came across the comment that women with such job profiles "won't get a good match" or that they are "unsuitable for domestic life". It is given that women, even if working, have to take care of domestic responsibilities in addition to their paid job while for men, such tasks are conveniently taken care of by their wives. So while men with well-paid government jobs have the luxury to choose their partners from a bevy of prospective brides, women are mostly deprived of such kind of privilege. I realised this hard truth when my parents began searching for a suitable groom for me more than a decade back.

Then I met my ex-husband. He seemed quite a progressive man who was of the opinion that like men, every woman should also work, earn and focus on her career. He also held that child-rearing was not solely a woman's responsibility. And if due to the demanding nature of her job, his wife was unable to do it single-handedly, he would happily shoulder the responsibilities of parenting. I was happy to get married to such a liberal man. But it didn't take me long to figure out that beneath the façade of all his progressiveness, was an orthodox, insecured man who didn't know how to deal with his wife on equal terms. By the time I got married, I had already been accustomed to living independently, thanks to my far-away postings. Add to that, I had an independent streak in me. I don't know whether this is an inborn trait or something I developed due to the choice of my career. But I always found any sort of forced compromises difficult to make. For me, the utmost priority was always my own mental peace and happiness. And it was only after my marriage that I realised that the frequent transfers to far-away places was actually a blessing in disguise. At least, it made me stay away from pesky in-laws for most of the time. Then the inevitable happened. A marriage where staying together under one roof seemed more like a punishment than a blessing, can't last long. Mine, too, crumbled too soon. And, with a start, I realised that I actually felt free once I was single again.

To me, a demanding job which requires a lot of travel is a bliss. If people thinks that this would lead to neglecting family responsibilities or dearth of good matches, who cares? In retrospect, I have serious doubts whether this "lack of good matches" is a good thing or bad. In a society where women are mostly confined to a life of domesticity out of compulsion and their freedoms curtailed considerably, a demanding job can prove to be the only way to gain freedom.

Image source: A still from the series Made in Heaven

A One-Night Stand

Decked in a heavy yellow Kanjivaram saree, when Pallavi entered the living room of her own house, carefully balancing the tray of sweets and savouries in her hands, she was already feeling like a clown in front of curious onlookers. Four pairs of eyes of the boy's party followed her as she set the tray on the centre-table and managed to settle down on the sofa. 

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, the boy's mother abruptly asked, "So tell me Pallavi, are you willing to work after marriage or you would like to be a housewife?"

Pallavi stared in shock at the lady. "Of course I would work, aunty. Otherwise what's the point of doing an M.Phil. in Chemistry!", she answered smugly.

Even her mother who was so keen on getting her married, was incensed at this thoughtless question.

The boy's sister shoved a gulab-jamun into her mouth and after chewing it thoughtfully for a few seconds, asked, "What is all this on your face? Acne scars?"

Her mother blurted out, "You needn't worry! It is curable. We've already consulted a dermatologist."

Even with the most assiduous application of sandalwood paste and Multani mitti (fuller's earth), Pallavi's acne scars had persisted. But her mother's intervention embarassed her. What was the need to justify the acne scars? All these people could notice in her was these scars. They never appreciated her thick-lashed eyes sparkling with brilliance or her luxuriant, black hair reaching upto her waist. And wasn't she more than her mere outward appearance?

"What is wrong with my acne scars now? I still look beautiful, isn't it?", she asked defiantly.

The boy's party was taken aback with this unexpected retort.

"Yes, sure.", the boy's sister murmured.

Pallavi was already feeling uncomfortable in the heavy saree. Beads of perspiration lined her forehead. All she wanted was to change into her over-worn cotton pyjamas and curl up in the sofa.

All this while, the boy sat silently.

"Beta, don't you have any questions?", her mother asked ingratiatingly.

"No, aunty.", he mumbled.

They left saying that they would get back soon after consulting the astrologer for matching of the horoscopes. Her mother sent a silent prayer to the gods for the finalization of the match.

But the gods seemed oblivious to her prayers. The horoscopes didn't match and the match fell flat.

*****

Pallavi was on the wrong side of thirty and this arranged marriage business had started to get on her nerves. She felt that she was doomed to spinsterhood forever. She pined for the 'right man' sans the ridiculous rigmarole of arranged marriage route and in the hope to find him, she started using a dating app.

Pallavi met Aditya via a dating app. The moment she laid her eyes on him, her mind wolf-whistled. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever met. Aditya's witty banter and ready grin charmed her. They hit it off instantly.

When they met for the second time, she was already craving for his physical touch. His gaze made desire flare inside her. After a few rounds of drinks, when he held her hand, she didn't pull away.

"Lets check into a hotel, Pallavi.", he whispered in a raspy voice which made her go weak in the knees.

She merely nodded in agreement.

"But first of all, let me make one thing clear. It's just a hook-up. Don't expect marriage or commitment from me. I get bored easily.", he gave out a small laugh.

After going through innumerable arranged marriage bride-inspection sessions, Pallavi was tired of waiting for the proverbial knight in shining armour. She, too, didn't want to die virgin and craved for physical intimacy.

What followed was a night of passionate love-making. But unfortunately and predictably, the second date never culminated into a third date.

*****

Soon Pallavi landed a cushy job as an assistant teacher of Chemistry in a renowned public school in the outskirts of the city. The school was a residential one and owing to the difficulty of daily commute to and from the school, she soon shifted to the quarter allotted to her inside the school premises. The serene environment of the school made her full of bliss.

In the euphoria of settling into her new job and new life, she didn't notice anything amiss till she skipped her period. She always had an irregular cycle, so she didn't suspect anything wrong. It didn't occur to her that she might be pregnant until a full two months later. As she tracked that fateful one-night-stand, everything came back in a rush. She vividly remembered that Aditya hadn't used protection that night and she, quite näively, didn't insist on using protection. Moreover, she wasn't on birth control and it never occurred to her to use the morning-after pill the following morning.

Her worst nightmares came true when two parallel pink lines on the pregnancy test stick confirmed her doubts. This came like a bolt from the blue. She had seen this in movies, but she couldn't believe that something as natural as getting pregnant could happen to her in real life, that too before marriage. The whole thing seemed surreal. She didn't want to be a single mother. Though words like "pro-life" or "pro-choice" weren't parts of her vocabulary, still continuing with the pregnancy was not an option at all. Rather, abortion seemed more of a necessity than a choice. She wept miserably for hours. She was afraid to share this terrible news with her parents or colleagues. Something must be done. She tried to pull herself together and booked an appointment with a gynaecologist the very next day. She was afraid of the doctor's reaction. So she took appointment of a female gynaecologist hoping that she would be sensitive to her.

*****

The bespectacled, middle-aged gynaecologist looked as prude as the starched cotton saree she was wearing. She made Pallavi go through an untrasound first to confirm her pregnancy.

Then she asked her how long she had been married.

Pallavi dreaded this question. Lowering her eyes, she fiddled with the edge of her dupatta before muttering, "I'm not married, doctor. It was a one-night-stand. I've decided for an abortion."

"Women of your generation are so reckless. I'd advise you to talk to the father of the child. Think of this pregnancy as an opportunity to settle down with that man.", came the brusque reply.

Hot tears pricked her eyes. She tried to explain that marriage was not on the cards. She made an appointment for the abortion and fled from the clinic.

*****

The anesthesia was slowly wearing off. And Pallavi was slowly drifting towards the edge of consciousness. There was a white-hot, searing pain in her womb, as if somebody had set her on fire. When she opened her heavy eyelids, she felt as if a veil had lifted before her eyes. She was utterly exhausted. She could see the prim gynaecologist in that room suffused with the smell of medicines and disinfectants. 

"Doctor, is it successful?", she managed to ask in a tired voice.

"Wait for the report.", the doctor replied curtly.

Pallavi rested for a while before taking a taxi back to her quarter.

*****

The report came after four excruciating days of waiting. Yes, the abortion procedure had been successful. But Pallavi slipped into a deep depression. She wasn't worthy of being a mother. Perhaps God would never forgive her for this irredeemable sin.

*****

After one year

Pallavi drew aside the curtains of the large French window of her room. Sunlight generously streamed through the window. Outside the teachers' quarters, the bougainvillea tree was in full bloom. 

She still shuddered whenever she thought of that godawful experience of going through an abortion. It took her many counselling sessions to recover from all that trauma and depression. Yet one positive outcome of that painful incident was that she learnt to take responsibility of her body completely. She still enjoyed sex as much as she did earlier, but gone was the callous attitude towards her body. She was full of gratitude towards the universe.

Note: According to a report by the India Spend, in 2016 almost 10 million women in the country undergo a secret abortion each year. However our homes, educational institutions and public platforms remain silent about the conversations surrounding it. At the heart of the problem lies two integral reasons that go against the principles of Indian family values: either premarital sex or what is seen as a denial of life.

Image source: Unsplash

This Is Not How Your Story Ends

"All stories must end so, with the next tale winking out of the corners of the last pages, promising more, promising moonlight and dancing and revels, if only you will come back when spring comes again."

-- Catherine M. Valente

Kolkata, 2022

"Yes, twelve boxes of Motichoor Laddoos. Make sure that each box contains twenty laddoos. And deliver the sweets to my place as soon as possible.", Upasana Roy issued frantic instructions to the shopkeeper of the nearby sweet-shop over the mobile. After that, she took a few moments to calm her jittery nerves.

"What will you do with so many sweets, Maa?", asked a bemused Radhika.

"I'll distribute the sweets among our neighbours.", replied a beaming Upasana. "After all, I'm the proud grandmother today.", she added for good measure.

"That's true. And I'm the proud mother. Lets plan a family dinner today at 'The Cinnamon Lounge' to celebrate Julia's success at the board examination. My daughter is a big girl now.", Radhika smiled triumphantly.

Julia came out of her room and tightly hugged her mother. "Love you, Maa!", she planted a light kiss on Radhika's cheek. "Love you too!", Radhika felt choked with emotions.

Who knew such unadulterated happiness was waiting for her? She had lost all hopes of becoming a mother. But destiny had other plans in store for her.

*****

Kolkata, 10 years back

The divorce dragged on for five years, almost as long as the marriage. When it was over finally, Radhika expected a feeling of relief to wash over her. Instead, she felt lost, depressed and despondent. She was a thirty-five-year-old divorced woman. She had never imagined her life to be this barren at this age. Her job as a software professional ensured her financial independence. But she felt that she was doomed to live a life devoid of love and affection.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, she was wallowing in self-pity when a gentle touch on her shoulder jolted her back to reality. It was her mother's touch.

"Beta, our neighbour Vandana has invited us for her daughter-in-law's baby shower. Would you like to attend it?, she asked gently.

Radhika was cut to the bone. She burrowed her head in her mother's chest and started to sob silently. Only she knew how a searing jealousy coursed through her whenever she saw other women's happy family pictures on Facebook. Or the photos from the hospital where the lucky mothers flashed tired, albeit content smiles with babies on chests. Or the pictures of pudgy baby fingers wrapped around their mothers' fingers. Each marked a milestone a woman achieved. The milestones she would, perhaps, never achieve.

Upasana placed an assuring hand over Radhika's head.

"Shhh... be quiet, child! I can understand your pain. But don't despair. You too can become a mother."

Radhika looked up quizzically. 

"What? How is that possible? Please don't advise me to go through the rigmarole of another marriage now.", she replied sarcastically, wiping her tears.

"No, child! I'm not trying to cajol you to marry right away the next guy you meet. All I'm trying to say is that this is not how your story ends. Rather, it's just where the story takes a turn."

"How can I have a baby without a husband, Maa?", Radhika was genuinely surprised.

"You can always adopt a baby, dear. Of course, it'll not be the same as having a baby with a husband by your side. Now you'll have to choose between having no baby without a husband and having an adopted baby. Which choice will make you happy when you reach the age of sixty? Think long and hard before you take a decision. Who knows when you'll meet the 'right sort of man'. Such things are beyond your control. Or may be, you will not want to remarry. Also, once you have a baby, some men won't be interested to settle down with you. Others will be fine with the baby and may be, you'll find the 'right sort of guy' among them. But regardless of whether you choose to re-marry or not, whether you end up finding the right guy or not, you'll have a baby."

*****

Kolkata, 8 years back

When Radhika registered for adoption, all she hoped for was a cuddlesome, healthy baby of any gender. But when she was going through the process of adoption, she realised that a child was after all a child, be it a newborn or an older kid. Soon she realised that the trend in India was to adopt younger kids. She started wondering what happened to the older kids. The older the kids got, their probability of getting adopted lessened, for no fault of theirs. And if these older kids were not adopted, where would they go? The institution sheltered them till they turned eighteen. After that, they were abandoned by the institution too. Considering they had been abandoned by their biological parents, this was their second abandonment. Radhika shuddered to think about how those hapless children felt.

It was the D-day, the day Radhika was supposed to become a mother. She could barely sleep the previous night, tossing and turning in the bed. By dawn, she fell into a fitful slumber. When she opened her eyes in the morning, she felt a strange adrenaline rush imagining about what the day had in store for her. She got ready in a jiffy. Then she looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted the pleats of her cotton saree one last time. She put a red bindi tentatively on her forehead, hoping that the red bindi would make her look more motherly. She cast one last appreciative glance in the direction of her soon-to-be-daughter's room which she had painstakingly decorated over the past few weeks. One central wall had been painted with a deep shade of pink while the rest three were a lighter shade of pink. Stickers of fairies and gardens adorned one wall while clouds were painted on the ceiling. A newly purchased bed with bright upholstery, a study table and a dresser were waiting in anticipation to welcome the new member of the family.

When Radhika reached the orphanage, the director told her that her daughter would be coming from the building on the other side of the courtyard. Radhika dropped her tote bag and waited anxiously to meet her daughter. Soon, the most gorgeous little girl she had ever seen walked into the room, holding the hand of her teacher. When Radhika inched towards her, she became afraid and hid behind her teacher, clutching onto her teacher's pallu. The director informed her that Julia had been adopted by a family earlier who later surrendered her. Radhika's heart melted for Julia and she made a promise to herself to be a good mother to Julia. She hugged her and shed copious happy tears. That day, 38-year-old Radhika Roy bacame the mother of a 10-year-old girl, Julia.

The initial days of motherhood were a roller-coaster of emotions, both for Radhika and Julia. As Julia was not a baby, but a 10-year-old girl, she naturally came with her own baggage of past experiences. Unlike other mothers, Radhika was not allowed the privilege of naming her daughter. By that age, Julia had internalized her name which had become a part of her identity. And with so much changes taking place in her surroundings, Radhika thought it best to let her name remain unchanged. The name, perhaps, acted as an anchor that symbolized a semblance of stability in Julia's life that had turned upside-down overnight.

Julia gelled quite well with both Radhika and Upasana. It seemed that she was thrilled to have a mother and a grand-mother and an opportunity to have a normal childhood. Age-wise Julia was supposed to be in fifth standard. But soon Radhika discovered, to her horror, that she was still trying to learn how to read and write like a first grader. Even though she attended school at the orphanage, no one really bothered to push kids like hers to learn. Radhika had a hard time getting her admitted into a school and helping her cope with her studies.

But the real challenge proved to be the court hearings which were like nightmares. Every time they went for court hearings and every time Julia saw her previous caregiver, she would get triggered. Her eyes would widen with fear. What would happen to her if her new mother left her with that caregiver? She would have meltdowns. She would clasp Radhika's hand tightly and weep bitterly. Radhika would try to pacify her. 

"Shh... don't cry darling... I am your family now and we will go back home together."

But Julia was inconsolable.

She feared going into crowded areas such as shopping malls and airports where her fears of abandonment surfaced. She threw tantrums whenever Radhika broached the topic of visiting shopping malls to buy her new dresses or boarding planes to go for vacations. Radhika had a tough time convincing her to come out of her cocoon. Motherhood never came easy for her.

*****

Kolkata, 2022

In a cosy corner of 'The Cinnamon Lounge', the three women sat together occupying a table. Three women of three generations. An array of delicious dishes were spread before them.

Upasana raised a toast first. "May you, my dearest Julia, live all the days of your life.", she grinned.

Next was Radhika's turn. "May you live to learn well and learn to live well.", she beamed.

Julia was the last to raise a toast. "Here's to being a family for eight years.", she gave out a warm smile.

The three women clinked their glasses together.

Note: Child adoption practices in India are not homogeneous. Among several personal preferences influencing the choice of the child to be adopted, is the desire for babies rather than older kids.

In 2015, the Central Adoption Resource Authority (CARA) issued guidelines that approved single people adopting children: "A single female can adopt a child of any gender," it said, making it easier for single people to adopt. This has now been replaced by the Adoption Regulations, 2017, which also allows this.