I’m a South Asian woman close to thirty years old and I’m not married. Oh no! How did that happen! Furthermore, I’m a South Asian woman close to thirty years old and I’m not sure if I am ready for it just yet. Something must be wrong with me.
Okay, so I acknowledge our culture isn’t the only one that places emphasis on matrimony, and I totally understand my family would like me to settle down with a good boy from a good family, but seriously, do I need to answer questions about my singleton-status to all the random family friends and friends of family friends I meet?
When aunties and uncles (OK, so it’s usually the aunties and an occasional uncle) ask me why this majorly important step in my life hasn’t been taken, I usually just smile and act coy, like I have a big secret they don’t know and I am just getting ready for some sort of grand reveal.
I’m totally happy leaving them in this mild state of confusion (delusion?) because it generally ends the conversation in a positive manner, and they are quite satisfied to move on in the false knowledge that I have given them some sort of inside track to my personal life. It’s actually a win-win situation. However, there are days where it doesn’t go as smoothly and I end up feeling like I have missed some sort of boat.
If I had known my late twenties would be besieged with this many questions about nuptial plans, I would have made a more concerted effort to find a husband. I know these things are supposed to just happen. But I just keep thinkingthe past decade has been so full of changes, adventures and discoveries-from moving across the world, to making new friends and starting a career, I would have actively had to make time to fit in a whole life-partner-finding mission.
There are friends who have successfully managed to do this all at the same time, but perhaps I am not quite so good at multi-tasking. Needless to say, I’m not the only one who has to undergo constant haranguing by the kitty party crowd at family functions.
Vedika, 28, has had a similarly marriage-free trajectory. “I once got cornered at a wedding by a friend of my aunt’s who insisted on telling me marriage was the answer to all my problems. What problems exactly did she think I had?” Vedika is a successful media executive, with a wonderful family, active social life, plenty of stamps on her passport and an affectionate cocker spaniel. She doesn’t really feel like there is much of a problem there. Neither do I.
“I’ve been in a few long term relationships, but I’ve never felt the pressure to ‘settle down’ from any of the people I actually care about. They know I am happy and fulfilled; it’s usually someone outside my immediate circle who seems shocked by the fact that I’m not actively seeking to get married.”
You would think that having a boyfriend would make it easier, but it actually does the opposite. In other cultures, people in serious relationships are given the green flag, like a those-two-will-get-around-to-it-when-the-time-is-right sort of thing. In South Asia, ‘no ring on the fing means it’s no more than a fling’. This also puts a tremendous pressure on new relationships to take time to unfurl.
Outside of the arranged marriage setup, dating someone doesn’t mean there is some finite goal in mind from the beginning. Maybe two people want to get to know each other? Or maybe they feel like they enjoy each others’ company? Or maybe they just really like going to get frozen yoghurt? Whatever the reason, Meera Aunty asking whether you and your boyfriend are going to tie the knot is not a question any of us are looking to ponder after just a few weeks of dating.
Although there was the occasional question in my early twenties, which was more hilarious than annoying, somewhere along the way there was an invisible line I crossed between being a woman and being a single woman. My marriage status feels like it has come to define me in the eyes of the wider community. “I keep getting people telling me I am anti-marriage and too westernized, but that has never been the case. I am perfectly happy to settle down with the right person, but I’m not stressed out about waiting for him to arrive,” says Shehla, 29. “But I am getting frazzled with all the questions and pitiful looks.”
This is where things get tricky. Sometimes, after a night of explaining in the nicest way possible that I am not currently actively seeking a man on a white ghoda and my spot on the mandap, I start to feel like perhaps there is something I am missing, a malfunction of some sort.
Marriage is an important institution in all societies, it can be truly wonderful to find someone to spend your life with. However, as a woman in the 21st century, should the idea of being unmarried in my late twenties be tantamount to some sort of personal failure? And more importantly, is this a conversation I want to have with 25 distant acquaintances in the course of the night? Absolutely nahi.
So what do we do about this? How long can I continue dodging middle-aged aunties and subtly changing the subject? Over the last few years the din of voices asking me why I’m not married, or getting married has slowly started reaching a crescendo. When I’m really annoyed, I imagine saying something to shock them like, “I’m sorry but I don’t think gay marriage is legal in this country” or “l plan to get married to the leader of my cult in an elaborate polygamous ceremony next year, please come! We’re serving kool-aid!” But most of the time, I want to say something akin to “Stay out of my shish kebab”, in a way that is both polite, and assertive. I’m still working on that.
–Kari
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Kari ‘Bad’ Shah is a single Indian woman in her late 20’s who has lived in many cities around the world. She hopes her experiences and thoughts will help bridge the generational gap between South Asian parents and children worldwide. ‘No Sex in the City’ is inspired by the popular TV show ‘Sex and the City’ which captured the attention of diverse viewers across the globe.
