Unapologetically Single: Rediscovering Myself in India
By Niki Saxena
Being a single Indian woman is not the end of the world. However, being a 40- something single Indian woman is. We are a culture that celebrates family and the community, not necessarily the individual or quirky folks who don't follow the status quo. Growing up I was aware of the timeline...go to school (lots of it) get a good job, get married and have kids. Ask any Indian parent and they will tell you these are the simple instructions for a happy and productive life. To make a long story short, I didn't follow these instructions. Instead, I followed my own set of rules carved out a fairly successful and happy life. There is one problem though. At the ripe age of 42, I am still single. I find myself struggling with ethnic baggage. How do you define yourself and your place in a culture that really has no idea where you fit in? I felt that I was being judged as a failure by Indian standards, because I did not achieve the important roles that define Indian women, being a mother and a wife. I was resigned to a life of invisible spinsterhood until I got an unexpected release from the most unlikeliest of sources, my Indian relatives.
It had been a dream to go back to India and “give back” through hands on volunteer work and also spend some time with my estranged relatives, who are mostly "in the old country.” Earlier this year, I decided to fulfill that dream by returning to the “home” of my roots to participate in a medical mission. It was not an easy decision, but it was something I felt I needed to do. I have a handful of cousins that are scattered throughout the US and Europe, but the vast majority of my relatives are in India. India was where my parents came from and where my cultural roots were, but it was not my home and I felt no personal connections to any of the people that I shared DNA with. I always found it confusing and daunting to use "American rules" when dealing with Indian family politics. Once I reached a suitable age the references to marriage were relentless. I watched all of my cousins go through arranged marriages, while putting their own careers or life interests aside. That did not appeal to me. After all, I was the de facto spokesperson for countless generations of women in my family, who did not have choices. I was going to make sure I lived a life that was all about choices. Flash forward 16 years, to the point in life where I have survived medical school and am a successful pediatrician, and I am ready to return to India and face my demons.
I arrived in Varanasi in the state of UP with the idea that I would quietly work on the mission and then go home. I wanted to avoid the many lectures, the pointed glances and raised eyebrows when people asked why I was still not married. However, my parents couldn’t let me go to India without arming me with lists of phone numbers, strict instructions to call certain familial representatives to pay my respects, and a cell phone so I would have no excuses. From what I understood, I was the only woman on either side of the family who was not married yet, making me the notorious black sheep. I was bracing myself for criticism, negative words, and unpleasant innuendoes while a cold hard pit of fear was coalescing in my stomach at the thought of actually having to face my grandparents, uncles and aunts, who had all shared their disappointment about my continual unmarried status on numerous occasions.
Once I arrived in Varanasi (where I spent 10 days at an outreach camp working with surrounding villages) though, I found the medical volunteer work and the knowledge that I was doing something to help another human being incredibly satisfying. I put my rusty Hindi to good use and as I started to speak and work and simply be there, something funny started to happen. I was slowly letting go of some of the fear that I had come to India with. There was no scarlet "s" for spinster on my forehead, people did not stop and stare and point me out as a horrible example to their kids. In fact, most people really didn't care what my marital state was. I met women with stories much worse then my own, and saw children struggling with the overwhelming burdens of poverty while keeping their spirit and dignity intact. Their only interest in me was as a fellow human being first, Indian second, and woman last. The team I was with accepted me unconditionally as a medical professional, and I began to slowly lift my head out of the fog I had created for myself.
On one of my last nights in Varanasi, I got an unexpected visit from a cousin that I hadn't seen in over 25 years. She is a physician in a town about 200 km away from Varanasi and her mom had visited us in the states last year. I was touched that she had gone through the trouble of coming all the way out to Varanasi to see me. This is no small feat as anyone who has traveled in India can attest to. We laughed and chatted and compared notes and I felt another layer of the pit of fear dissolving. Ironically, the next day I got horrendously sick, the kind of sick you can only get in a place like India. As I lay there in denial about my illness and insisting that I was fine (doctors are really the worst patients), my cousin quietly went about rearranging her life so she could stay with me. I had some sort of stomach bug that made it impossible for me to drink or eat anything without feeling great waves of nausea. I had a fairly high fever and felt like I had beaten up with a baseball bat. I spent much of that day drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, but I do remember one conversation with crystal clarity.
Towards the end of that day, I was feeling a little bit better and so we sat up talking. My cousin just looked at me and quietly asked if I was happy. Did i not miss the idea of being in a relationship? I opened up and all this stuff came pouring out. I shared that I had tried to follow the path set out for me, but just couldn't find someone that i could be in a healthy relationship with. I shared that I felt like a terrible failure as I watched my parents’ dream of having grandchildren fade away. It made me feel as though a part of me was dying. While talking, I started crying, as if this dam had burst and I had to find a release by letting all the feelings out. She listened without speaking for a while, held my hand and wiped my tears. Then she looked at me and said "You need to snap out of this". I was floored! She went on to tell me that I wasn't the only one to have suffered from failed relationships. She had her own personal story about a failed first marriage. But as she put it, she "got right back on that horse" and refused to believe there wasn't someone out there for her. Eventually she met a wonderful man whom she later married and now has two great kids with. She quietly cut through the layers of justification I had built around my single state. "You are terrific. Don't ever apologize for who you are; embrace it and flaunt it. But don't cut yourself off from being a woman, and if you want a relationship and marriage, then make it happen. but in the meantime, live life to the fullest and enjoy every second."
I was in a state of amazed awe. Instead of being judged, I was being accepted unconditionally. I felt physically lighter that day, as if a burden I didn't even know I had been carrying around, had been lifted from me.
My cousin took me back to her house so I could continue to recouperate. Having a safe place to land, along with rest and IV medicine, I felt better. I spent time with her family (my aunt and uncle), and for the first time I wasn't miserable talking to my relatives. There was no voice in my head saying "they really don't like you, you're just a failure." Instead we laughed a great deal, traded stories, shopped and just hung out. I came back home feeling like a changed woman.
I stand up straighter. I dress like a woman and not like an androgenous professional. I take the time to be with people that are important to me and to appreciate the many blessings I have in my daily life. But most importantly, I no longer have that inner negative voice that tells me that I am not a "good Indian girl.” The universe must have responded to my change of energy, because my dating life has really taken off since then. And, as I finish this essay, I am happily involved with a wonderful man who really appreciates me for who I am. What is the moral of my story? Sometimes the only person holding you back is yourself. Letting go of negative mental stereotypes can change your life in ways you may not have imagined. I still don't know where my life will lead me and if there will be a traditional ending, but for once I am content to enjoy the ride!
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