I got married at the age of 26, which, according to my parents, was considered late. It was an inter-caste love marriage, and surprisingly, both our families were happy about it. The first month was blissful. I felt as if I were floating on a cloud, everything moving forward like a dream. Coming from a nuclear family where I was the youngest and quite pampered, the transition to a joint family was overwhelming. I started to feel the weight of adjustment pressing down on me. Despite this, I held onto my happiness, yearning for cooperation and attention from my husband, especially since we were newlyweds.
As time went on, however, the difficulties in adjusting to my new life grew more pronounced. My husband had an image of a perfect ‘bahu’ in his mind, and while I tried to mentally prepare for that role, all I truly wanted was his love and support. He was the center of my world, yet my life felt like it was spiralling in a different direction. After our marriage, I left my job due to immense pressure from both family and work. It wasn’t entirely his fault; we both contributed to the tensions between us. But despite our fights and differences, I chose him every single time.
Then came the day that shattered my heart. On my birthday—the very day we were supposed to celebrate together—he filed for separation without my knowledge. I returned to my parents’ home feeling utterly alone. As my family discussed our issues that day, I waited for a phone call from him wishing me a happy birthday. I can’t say I’m a good person, but I could never have done what he did to me. Somehow, through family intervention, he agreed to come back after 15 days. But nothing felt the same anymore.
He began recording our conversations—our fights, our calls, our messages—turning moments of intimacy into evidence against me. One night, I stumbled upon separation papers in his bag; my own messages were being used as proof against me. It felt like an invasion of my privacy and trust. Once a woman who lived life on her own terms, I suddenly found myself reduced to just “my husband’s wife.” He had always been a good son and brother, but where was the husband I needed? After three months of living together again, he left me once more.
My life took an unexpected U-turn. Even with my family’s support surrounding me, I felt profoundly alone; my world had crumbled without him by my side. In just nine months of marriage, we had transformed from newlyweds to separated individuals. Our conversations became limited to legal matters as we filed cases against each other. I was shattered and consumed by depression.
I didn’t want wealth or luxury; all I desired was a loving and caring partner. Cooking wasn’t my strength, but I tried hard for him. I asked him for patience and understanding as we navigated this new life together. Yet it felt as though no one made an effort to help me feel comfortable in my new surroundings. From waking up early to helping in the kitchen, nothing seemed to please his family. Was it their responsibility or his? Perhaps I made mistakes as the newcomer in their family, but my intentions were never malicious.
Leaving home is painful enough; returning home after separation is an agony that words cannot capture. Life became increasingly difficult as I withdrew from society; even conversations with my own family dwindled because all I could think about was him and how he might realise his mistakes and come back to me. Despite apologising multiple times—both myself and even my family—there was no change in his stance.
The journey from being married to being separated is a mental torture unlike any other. At an age when most of my friends were still engaged or happily married, here I was—a divorcee—a term that felt heavy with societal judgment and stigma attached to it. My life would not be easy moving forward; families often find it shameful to update their social circles about their children’s marital status changes. Meeting relatives at social gatherings became painful as they would ask questions like “Where is your husband?” or “Why don’t you wear sindoor?” Each inquiry felt like salt on fresh wounds.
I had to put on a brave face while grappling with this pain alone; some people’s words triggered negativity within me that was hard to shake off. It saddened me how women often gossiped about each other instead of supporting one another during tough times. The stress took its toll on both my health and self-esteem; looking in the mirror became an exercise in self-loathing.
Yet somehow, with the unwavering support of my family, I began to regain both physical and mental strength. Some days were harder than others; some people still pinched at old wounds—but eventually, I moved on. It dawned on me that if I didn’t stop pitying myself, society wouldn’t either. Once I started accepting myself and respecting my choices, the universe began cooperating with me too.
I still wonder what the future holds for me now that I’m independent—living for myself has become my priority. I’ve earned an MBA and secured a good job as an HR Manager with an MNC in Gurgaon while pursuing a Ph.D., aspiring to become a professor someday. After all the pain and struggle I’ve endured, I’ve emerged stronger—an independent woman who has learned so much about herself.
Even after experiencing heartbreak through marriage, I still believe that marriage can be beautiful—a profound bond between two individuals who cherish one another deeply. However, I’d advise anyone considering marriage to think long and hard before making such a significant commitment; it involves not just you and your partner but also many others around you.
Lastly, let’s remember that men and women are equal—we both have emotions deserving of respect and understanding.
Submitted By – Neha Sharma
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