Growing up, I never thought I’d be single at my age. But I am. It’s a combination of the choices made, some good, some bad, and luckThe marriage pool Venn diagram in two years would include an eligible subset of the divorced, the widowed, and the players who got cornered. My mother is an educated woman, feminist by almost all measures; however, her views, reflected by parental concerns all over, are not particularly unique. The arguments for marriage are aplenty, and growing up with conservative views, I have been inculcated to see their validity. Marriage makes sense to me; I believe in its religious, spiritual, and legal sanctity, its practical functions and applications, its romantic promise of forever, for better or worse. The messages we receive regarding marriage or any exclusive long-term romantic relationship are grossly contradictory, though. Some people will say that companionship will solve all your issues. Lonely? Get married. Depressed? A marriage certificate is the best anti-depressant. Not taken seriously by the elders? Here’s a bio-data complete with the best Facebook photo of the prospect. Coupled friends and well-wishers will try to set you up. Complete strangers in swimming pools will ask you why you are not married while you are trying to perfect your bilateral breathing. Another seasoned group will emphasise that marriage or a serious relationship (no laughter allowed?) is not a silver bullet. There is more to life, with higher returns on investment. Take your career, for example -- after all, has any institution ever betrayed a sincere, loyal, and hard-working employee? Increasingly, cultures place greater significance on an individualism concerned with the self as the highest, most deserving entity of our finite time, attention, resources, and value, to be served and protected before any other. Enough has been written about the woes of those without partners, whether by choice or circumstance. There are very practical constraints posed for the child, friend, colleague without that plus one, be it finding an apartment, a ride or holiday or buffet offer only for two, someone to put eye drops when you are single and have injured an eye. We talk about how being single also offers many advantages, the lack of responsibilities, that ability to “focus on oneself,” to not have to bear additional financial burdens, to not have to make compromises. Everyone is entitled to their position on the opinion spectrum and this article is neither about embracing one’s single status nor bemoaning it. Perhaps it’s about taking an honest, and for some, a difficult look at what it really means to yourself that you are not with anyone and no one is with you. It is hard for us to see ourselves in a vacuum, sans human connections. We inherently define ourselves through our relationships with others. We are, his and hers. The blessed amongst us have families and friends, but it’s natural to want to be seen by someone in a way that no one else sees us. Yet, this very exercise, to see ourselves in a way that no one else does, uninfluenced by what those who loved us and never loved us saw, is perhaps crucial. That kind of self-honesty and transparency is not going to reconcile us with lost love. It is not an endeavour with a goal to please or appease another, with a tangible reward in the form of that perfect soul mate. But it’s inevitable and essential, whether we are coupled or single, but especially, if we are single and not at ease. That ability to picture ourselves, not devoid of love and its bindings, but despite them, as an individual with flaws, idiosyncrasies, imperfections -- that ability doesn’t make us selfishly short-sighted. Allowing ourselves to see ourselves, even when there is no one with us, especially when that view is shadowed, blocked, and almost always incomplete -- allowing us to see ourselves within and without, is a struggle but essential. It is a struggle and it is a process of trial and error, but sincere attempts at self-perception, minus the many selves we want to be defined by, are worth it. A friend had once told me in college, when I was terribly homesick, that the only home we carry is the one with ourselves. I’d found comfort in those words. On days when I wake up and confusedly want to go home while lying in my bed, I remind myself of them.Maliha Bassam is a development professional and occasionally tweets at @maliha_bassam.
I sat among three and a half married couples and tried paying attention to what was happening on stage.
I say three and half because one of the spouses had not joined us that evening. Another was up on the stage, awing everyone with theatrical splendour.
I was watching Nari Nokkhotro, the Bangla adaptation of “It’s a SHE thing” -- organised by Bohnishikha- at Red Shift. And I was thinking, this is it. I’m never getting married.
Why did these married people bring their single friend to this play, of all plays?
Of course, that’s not a fair interpretation of Bohnishikha’s production.
I saw 10 beautiful, brave, talented, and self-aware women talking about some very important things, about the hypocrisies posed by patriarchal structures, the visible and invisible pain and humiliation women go through, the dignity with which we can and must overcome the myriad challenges presented by a world that views women as the second sex.
Tasaffy Hossain, the organiser, when asked why she does what she does, said: “A lot of the discrimination/prejudices we end up showing in regard to gender, towards both men and women, are very ingrained in us. And we usually think of them as acceptable ways to behave. In a show like this, those little things are highlighted, and said out loud.
Sometimes, that is all that’s needed to make us realise things we all do, and can do differently. That’s what I hope people feel when they watch these performances.”
I laughed at what I could relate to (one of the skits joked that women should sometimes pretend they are not as good at something as they are so that people can help them and feel better, one pointed out with snark that the orna is so powerful an object that it’s the first thing women would grab during an earthquake).
I looked at my phone though there was no notification when the topic hit too close to home. The play was done beautifully, and set in motion thoughts on solitude and companionship, and the spaces in between.
Growing up, I never thought I’d be single at my age. But I am. It’s a combination of the choices made, some good, some bad, and luck, some good, some bad. My timeline projection in the early teens would have me be a mother of two by now.
Instead, that evening, after watching a play triggering uneasy feelings about marriage with some married couples, I went to another event and sat at a table where everyone around me was married (surprise), with two couples my age tending their adorable children. I imagined the teenagers in the room probably having better romantic prospects than me. I think I did too, back when I was a teenager, hopeful of being married by 25.
People without a significant other, single people, if you will, hear a lot of things. Recently I told my mother my plans for the next two years -- fitness goals, income goals, giving goals, top-tier grad school goals, etc. My mother, bless her, told me that while it was still OK to get married at 30, at 32, people would say that I am an aged bride.
