Three's a crowdBy Sheela Raval INDIA TODAY Principal Correspondent January 28, 2002
Rudeness has no timing, inquisitiveness has no boundary. So what if
32-year-old banker Nikunj Baroi was tired after a hard day, her boss just
had to know. Having disposed of any pretence of subtlety, he sidled up and
asked, "You've been married six years haven't you?" There was no time to be
polite, for the interrogator was merely warming up. With aspirations of
becoming a confidante, he whispered sorrowfully, "Still no issue? Whose
problem is it? Yours or your husband's?". In the West, an old fashioned
swing of the hand bag would have been a fair answer and summarily halted
such nosiness. But in India no one blinks, for being childless is everyone's
business.
Baroi palmed off her boss with a "It's too private to discuss", practised as
she is in handling enquiries about the workings of her biological clock. Sure
it ticks, but a woman has the right not to hear it, to opt for a life that is
as complete without a child. Says Baroi in anguish: "It's not 'whether' but
'when' they constantly ask. It's painful that people never bothered to find
out if we want kids." Freedom of choice is fine it seems, except when it
comes to children.
In their very decision to chart a childless journey for themselves, the
Barois are dismantling tradition, trampling all over social mores which see
breeding as a natural progression of marriage. No way, said husband Manoj a
software consultant, "children look cute in pictures but not in real life. It
would be unfair to bring a child into this world, when we're just managing to
justify our marriage".
His voice is finding a reasonable echo in urban India. Successful couples,
focused on finding better lives, are wondering whether soiled nappies and
sleepless nights are an adequate trade-off for Saturday nights on the town
and foreign jaunts. Families, of course, are having collective heart attacks,
for their children are flaunting convention and embracing the bizarre. Like
city cable operator Nitin Thakker who instructed his parents that fine, find
a girl for me, but make sure she doesn't want a child or can't have one.
Thakker is brutally frank. "I don't like children, they are a headache."
Married now, his wife Panna, 25, can have children but obeys his command.
Sociologists see a link between such behaviour and the the Western notion of
DINKS or Double Income No Kids. They see too, as social counsellor Kalinid
Majumdar did, a confusion arising over whether "to breed or not breed". It
is a dilemma that is reflected in what Dr Kiran Coelho a gynacologist with
Leelavati and Holy Family Hospital has experienced. Coelho, who sees 15 new
patients a day, believes that "the present generation has moved one step
ahead from the revolutionary resolution of the '80s generation of having
one child, to postponing parenthood till mid-thirties or remaining childless".
And though this hardly qualifies as a revolution, the mere fact that the Tata
Institute of Social Sciences has coined a term for them -- VCC or Voluntary
Childless Couples -- is suggestive of a growing trend.
Why couples choose such a journey has no set reason. Some believe a child has
no place in a violent, unequal, poor India; for others it's simply an
unnecessary addition to the numbers. During courtship, Jah Chinoy and Raell
Padamsee made childlessness a resolution. As he says, "I don't want to add my
one to the already exploding population, not even at the risk of being
suspected as a homosexual." So, while Chinoy propagates his cause, wife
Raell gets her maternal gratification from dealing with kids at her acting
school.
More common though is the view that a child interrupts mobility, puts a
comma in the flow of a career. The issue is practicality. Namrata Kanwar
and her husband Dhiren, had no time for a child when they were trying to set
up their own catering business. They knew their pursuit of success had to be
single-minded. "Both of us were mentally not prepared to take on any
additional responsibility other than business," she says. But now they are
thinking of adopting a child. "No need to add to the population," she says.
Sometimes though the approach has a hard-headed business view to it,
something akin to choosing a new car. If it seems callous there is a
refreshing honesty to it as well. IIM gold medallist Devina Mehra, 34, whose
husband Shankar Sharma works at the First Global Stockholding, is wonderfully
blunt: "It's an irreversible step that changes your life in a fundamental
way. I wonder whether children bring much to the table".
As society turns blue in the face, it is clear that the changing attitudes
reflect the gradual empowerment of the urban Indian woman. Educated,
informed, they find they have the opportunity to pursue individual dreams.
For them being superwoman, dumping babies in creches or with ayahs while
they work, is not worth it. It's babies or work and work wins. Annabel
Velacquez admits she feels scared by the thought of her biological clock
ticking away. Yet she and her husband Rajiv Hiranandani felt deeply that
shaping their lives took precedence. As Rajiv says, "Taking care of a child
is not a mindless job and we were not ready to change our footloose lifestyle
and give up our dreams. What Velacquez also has is her husband's commitment,
a vital cog in any career woman's decision-making. As lawyer Kalpana Gavaskar
explains, "Many times I see husbands asking for divorce on grounds like
cruelty to husband and refusal to bear my child."
Yet, convinced of their decision, such couples, predictably, are perceived
as self-centred, but it is a perception arising from a tradition that refuses
to yield. Reproduction is seen as a woman's primary contribution. Children may
be fun but they're primarily a social obligation, and yes, a support system
for old age. Society takes a dim view of those who abandon the chosen path
and the repercussions are startling. Harish Shetty, a Mumbai psychiatrists,
says societal pressure is so great that many couples avoid family functions
to escape scrutiny. If that's not enough, women are told repeatedly that a
childless woman is bound to be afflicted with cervical, uterine or breast
cancer, though Coelho clarifies, "It's a risk, not a rule."
Family, of course, watching this interruption in lineage feels they must be
dutifully persuasive. Swaraj Mehra, Devina's mother, asserts that motherhood
is not restricted to responsibility but a necessary experience that brings
maturity. Sujata Baroi, Nikunj's mother-in-law, tells her a career alone is
not fulfilling, that in an individualist world children are even more
important for they act as cement in marriage. Some arguments have merit,
others perhaps not, but family pressure have unpleasant consequences. Dino
Rao, 35, delivered a girl three years ago after immense pressure from parents
and in-laws. The immediate result: acute anxiety and depression. Today she
feels the joy of motherhood, but as she balances between playing mother and
doing her job, she is still unconvinced by her choice: "I have sacrificed my
career for being a mother and I am still not sure it if will be worthwhile."
What it takes to last the journey, to live with stigma and the accompanying
pressures, is a fair measure of patience and courage. Yet, it is being done.
Shetty says couples find relief through mechanisms available to them in
various forms, whether it be from family, friends kids or even pets. But
society needs to remove its blinkers and recognise the childless couple as
an alternative family pattern. And that having a child is a question of
choice. Not inevitability.
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