Being single - that too a single woman

 I never imagined that being single could become such a botheration for people around me —

other than my parents, of course.

Somehow, my marital status seems to make people unusually inquisitive.

Almost as if it reduces the weight of all other problems, replacing them with this one big problem:

“She is single.”

“Do your parents stay with you?”

“No, I stay with them,” I reply.

And just like that, assumptions begin.

Any conversation that lasts a little longer somehow gets linked — directly or indirectly — to this.

Personally. Professionally. Socially.

Even at work, the difference is visible.

An earlier boss would often talk about work–life balance.

But when it came to me, I guess she assumed I had no life to balance.

After all, others had families — spouses, children — and I only had parents.

Professional insecurities quietly spill into personal commentary.

And women like me?

We become convenient gossip material.

What’s disappointing is that this isn’t limited to office colleagues.

So-called friends do it too.

Relatives — mostly all.

Not always out of concern, but curiosity.

Judgement.

Comparison.

Very few genuinely want to help.

Most seem to be running an internal quiz —

“Guess her age.”

Somewhere along the way, marriage and children have been declared the only valid milestones.

And if you haven’t crossed them, you’re automatically considered behind.

For a long time, I didn’t see this clearly.

I let things go.

I believed people at face value.

I told myself they cared.

Only to realise much later —

much of it was just “mithya”