Life After Marriage
Photo credit: Ranjani Rao
Ranjani Rao recalls the story behind her memoir, Rewriting My Happily Ever After, and how sharing a personal tale of divorce helped her find connection and community.
Several months ago, a US-based journalist reached out to me. She was working on a cover feature about divorce in the South Asian community and asked if I would be willing to answer a few questions. I was in the middle of writing the first draft of my memoir, which I had tentatively titled Rewriting My Happily Ever After. I was happy to connect and give her my honest opinion on a topic that I was intimately familiar with.
“Can I use your real name or would you like me to change it for the article?” she asked me upfront, right after we exchanged a few pleasantries.
“You can use my name,” I said. I wondered about the necessity of such a question.
After we finished our chat, she promised to let me know when the article was out.
Weeks passed without an update. Upon enquiry, she informed me that the article was taking a long time to write because people were reluctant to speak up about divorce despite the promise of anonymity. Since the article was being planned as a cover story in a magazine targeted towards the Indian-American community in the US, the people she sought out for her research were either from an urban Indian background or from the South Asian diaspora. Yet, in her experience, even in the twenty-first century, people were not willing to talk about their reasons for leaving (or staying) in unhappy marriages.
Speaking about a marriage not working out in Indian culture—regardless of whether it was ‘arranged’ or for ‘love’—is an admission of failure; failure of the couple, of society and of a traditional belief system which sees marriages as being made in heaven and the marital bond as one that transcends death.
I was not surprised.
As Indians, a common rule of thumb among many of our families is, ‘Let’s not discuss what makes us uncomfortable.’
Let’s start with a few basic questions. Do you know someone who is divorced? Do you know someone who is stuck in a bad marriage? If I had asked my parents these questions thirty years ago, the answer would have been an honest ‘no’ to the first followed by a grudging ‘yes’ to the second. Today, I can say with confidence that we all know several people who belong to both the first and second category. Yet, there is so much hesitation to talk about divorce.
Why?
Speaking about a marriage not working out in Indian culture—regardless of whether it was ‘arranged’ or for ‘love’—is an admission of failure; failure of the couple, of society and of a traditional belief system which sees marriages as being made in heaven and the marital bond as one that transcends death. Both men and women uphold patriarchal values when they refuse to see the individuals involved in incompatible marriages as people who deserve to be treated with respect and given agency over their own lives instead of treating them as data points to prove a hypothesis.
Since the time my grandmother married my grandfather, sight unseen, the expectations of marriage have remained unchanged regardless of the fact that women now have access to education, the right to vote, and more of an acceptance to contribute to the workforce and the progress of society. Women today do much more than fulfilling the expectations of their traditional roles as child-bearers, caregivers and keepers of a family’s well-being; yet, when it comes to deciding whether to stay or leave an unsatisfying marriage, women come across many hurdles.
They face questions
What will people say?... What about your children?... How can you manage alone?...
and accusations
You are being selfish... You are ruining the lives of your children… You are tearing up the fabric of society…
and lots and lots of unsolicited advice
Marriage is all about compromise… He doesn’t beat you, cheat you, or gamble… You are asking for too much from a marriage… Learn to keep quiet and make it work…
Image credit: Ranjani Rao
In a society like this, how can one justify divorce?
When I chose to walk out after sixteen years of marriage, I had no idea what awaited me in the ‘real world’. My daughter was eight years old and we had moved back to India after fourteen years in the U.S. While I had a job, I was in an unfamiliar city with no family support. Over the next three years I figured out my life as a single parent and debated the consequences of my decision. Although my parents spent a year with me while I went to work, I knew that I could not impose on them for life. They had to get on with their lives, just as I had to get on with my new status as a separated person.
To my surprise, in the India of the new millennium, I discovered that there was considerable sympathy for victims of domestic abuse. If physical violence was involved, everyone was in agreement that the breakup was justified. However, there was very little understanding of other kinds of family dysfunction.
There is a common opinion that a ‘broken home” (where husband and wife don’t live under the same roof) is harmful for children. Yet, no one is willing to speculate on whether it is better for children to have a front seat view of their parent’s incompatibility which may cause more damage, or share a split arrangement where they can function without fear?
What happens in dysfunctional relationships when family members experience or witness chronic verbal or emotional abuse? What about the long-term impact of anger, resentment and discontent on children who grow up in such environments?
Women who show no overt (physical) signs of trauma but express unhappiness in their marital home are asked to ‘adjust’ and make it work. They are shown examples within their own circles where couples have endured destructive relationships for decades for the sake of their children’s future, or for fear of society’s repercussions.
In group after group of people composed of people from various parts of the world, I discovered common themes: heartbreak, sadness, grief but also joy and celebration of small victories, like moving into their own place, buying a car, or following their dreams.
Marriages break up for a variety of reasons, such as illness, incompatibility, insolvency, infidelity, in-laws, or a combination of some or all of these. My marriage was no exception. When I set out to write about my experiences during a three-year period of marital limbo where I was separated but not legally divorced, I thought deeply about marriage and what I wanted from life.
Those days and months were difficult. For the first time in my life, I faced a bewildering range of decisions and actions that I had to take—financially, personally and professionally—in order to build a safe life for my child and myself. Given the intersection of social media with our lives, I joined a few divorce-support groups on Facebook while writing my book. Although it was more than a decade after my own marital breakdown, I was curious about the challenges of people who were in the throes of divorce.
In group after group of people composed of people from various parts of the world, I discovered common themes: heartbreak, sadness, grief but also joy and celebration of small victories, like moving into their own place, buying a car, or following their dreams. Even in the twenty-first century, people were looking for connection and inspiration from others who had walked the path before them. Whether that support came from books or from online communities, these groups were platforms where I found our shared—albeit flawed—humanity on full display.
Having been an avid reader who had looked to books for motivation, during my prolonged phase of separation, I had yearned for a story with a protagonist whose life represented the complicated reality of mine but also showed me a future filled with hope and happiness.
When I found no such book, I decided to write my own.
In the beginning, I wrote short vignettes describing my life during the early days of my separation. I wrote about feeling alone, abandoned and cheated of a future that was supposed to have been a guaranteed success—based on the ‘checklist’ approach that my parents had used to arrange my marriage.
It was all factually correct. Yet, this wasn’t the whole story. When I dug deeper, I found a pattern that I had not noticed earlier. A trail of breadcrumbs that led to where I was now. My life today is very different. In many ways, I am a different person altogether. Yet this change had not happened overnight. It had been a gradual process that had begun with that first scary but courageous step to leave behind the familiar discomfort of married life for an unknown future as a single parent.
Instead of describing the what-ifs, I decided to chronicle the what-next. In order to pull through each day, I had to focus on the present and make a series of choices that would keep me physically healthy, mentally strong, and emotionally resilient. In my book I share my story of falling and stumbling and rising again, and in the process making friends, learning lessons, and ultimately growing up.
Recognising that my parents had my best interests at heart, and that neither fate nor an unkind universe had singled me out for this unique hardship meant accepting what is and taking the responsibility for shaping my future. And in taking up the mantle, I had to find a way to forgive myself (and others), be grateful for all the gifts I had been given and believe that a better future was possible.
From the reviews by early readers to Rewriting My Happily Ever After, and the flood of emails, messages and comments I have already received, I feel humbled and reassured. “Your book is a bridge,” said a reader.
As a divorce survivor and an author, I can hope for no greater compliment.
If such a story didn’t fit neatly into a literary genre, it didn’t matter. I was convinced that there were people who needed to hear it and feel a glimmer of hope. By sharing my story, I wanted to create a channel to open up conversations on this uncomfortable subject and reduce the stigma and shame associated with divorce. My life is proof that an alternate path to happiness can be carved through firm conviction and focused action.
***
Ranjani Rao is a scientist by training, writer by avocation, originally from Mumbai, and a former resident of USA, who now lives in Singapore with her family. She is the author of Rewriting My Happily Ever After—A Memoir of Divorce and Discovery that is now available for preorder. She loves connecting with readers at her website and at Medium | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram.
