Multipurpose rejoinders for childfree Indians
How to fend off the children question
At almost-50, I can no longer make fun of uncles and aunties because I am them. This is a troubling fact. But as this realisation dawned, I felt like maybe I am now on the other side of what I call the advice river.
All my life, people have given me advice. And it hasn’t just been people older than me. I often thought it was just something in my face. Maybe I looked in need of advice, maybe I looked like I would listen to them.
Many times, I have felt like I was walking on one bank of a river, trying to make my way across the stones a little gracelessly but in absolute concentration. And then, someone on the other bank starts to shout advice at me. In trying to hear them, I feel my feet slip a bit and I get annoyed that they cannot see that, in fact, I am engaged in something.
I have no wish to now be the shouter of advice but when young people are sharing posts like “What I learnt at the wise age of 29.5 years”, I feel endlessly amused and think, Shit, I could write something too.
One thing I know a lot about is about being a married yet voluntarily childfree person in India1. Not only are you on the wrong side of the advice river, everyone and their milkman is now qualified to give you advice. They have all banded together and are shouting at you in tandem. And they have a loudspeaker. You are supposed to shout all your answers back in triplicate.
The advice-givers come in a ridiculous number of varieties. I remember once checking out a rental flat in Bangalore. I had to get a key from a neighbour who was barely like 29.5. Maybe she thought she was wise. She grilled me for five minutes about my life decisions, then, looking me up and down said, “But you don’t look very young, so probably not newly married either. You shouldn’t delay having kids!” People have said ridiculous things. Narcissists have told me I was being selfish. Absentee parents have talked about love. An aunt of mine said, “Just birth one and give him to me! I’ll raise it.” A colleague shook his head and said “Modern life gives people too much freedom.”
As I got older, people started to phrase their questions differently. At a wedding, a cousin asked if I had done all my health checkups. “What is this care for me?” I wondered. Then, as more and more family kept asking about “Suchi’s health”, I realised they were hinting at trying IVF. I will confess, I was impressed by their sudden scientific mindset, even if it was for absolutely useless matters.
Over time, I learnt that it was useful to have a couple of rejoinders up my sleeve. And they couldn’t be, oh, simple or rational explanations. Childfree people, be careful never to tell them how you’ve given your decision deep thought. No Indian worth their salt thinks you should have a choice in this matter. If they have gone about their own marriage and childbearing thoughtlessly, it will also trigger them. Don’t stoop to their levels. Listen to Michelle Obama aunty. When they go low, you go high.
The Rejoinder List
“We have decided to lead a more simple life”. You can follow this up by name-dropping a saint or a guru’s name. Or best yet, make one up and profess surprise that they don’t know them. Adjust accordingly for your religion or community.
This rejoinder can be repurposed to answer questions about work, marital status and so on.
If the person is patriarchal, and you’re a woman, feel free to modify it to “My husband wants us to lead a more simple life”.
“I had a dream in which god told me I had a higher purpose.” Again, adjust for your religion or community. Feel free to also substitute “god” with favourite ancestors or spirits.
“What if I am an atheist?” some might ask. If you are an atheist, definitely say this because, again, no Indian wants to know you are one.
“We never got around to doing it”. This works really well with similarly-aged peers, cousins and friends who can be just as intrusive as “uncles and aunties”. Also works with conservative types.
I said this to a young man once. At first, he frowned a bit. Then, his eyes widened. I left him to stew in the ambiguity.
“Why aren’t you volunteering in an orphanage?” You can also reference some other noble activity. Of course, replying to a question with a question requires some practice. May not work in all situations.
But hear me out. The genius of this rejoinder is that you can use whatever the advice-giver has said to you, against them. Everyone should do it, it is the most selfless thing one can do, it will teach you so much patience, and so on. Let their advice just kind of echo back to them across the river.
Over time, it is also good to develop a kind of lost-in-the-clouds persona. Blink a bit when people ask you something, or look absent-minded and change the topic. Of course, only older people can pull this off. One of the many, many benefits of getting closer to auntyhood.
It is truly terrible for those who want to, but cannot have children. I swear, the amount of intrusiveness compounds the sadness. If you are in this situation, please find new family and friends.
This was hilarious!! Sending love!
Loved reading how you push back! As a single 38 year old woman who has not wanted biological children ever, I now widen my eyes innocently when pressed by intrusive aunties or pushy prospects who think they can convince me: "but isn't it too late?"