Sisters in spirit

Recently, a group of women, ages ranging from 58 to 80, celebrated their 10th anniversary of togetherness. As you can imagine, there was a lot of nostalgic music from the Bollywood era of Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachchan, and even earlier. A medley of favourites contributed by members ended with the enthusiastic stomp, stomp, clap; stomp, stomp, clap – We will, we will rock you. And that is what these women do. They rock.  

Our impeccable host, who hails from UP but met and married a Mysuru man at JNU, epitomises our generation. Smart, intelligent women, who went to the best colleges and universities of India and carved out careers in homemaking, teaching, healthcare, government, and corporate India, standing shoulder to shoulder with their men, while making family and children the centre of their universe.

It is a life that demands sacrifice—of time, energy, and even personal ambitions, desires and freedoms. It is possible to lose sight of who we once were, deep down. But like the magic lamp of Aladdin, when this group of women gather, their inner genies are released.

The glue that holds us together is our Delhi connection. We all went to college in the capital, and many of us went to school there too. As women who grew up in middle-class Delhi in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s, we share a great deal in common even though we come from varied religious and cultural backgrounds. This was the era where middle-class Indian parents were filled with the burning ideals, so poignantly expressed in Satyajit Ray films, of giving their daughters the best opportunities, similar to what they gave their sons. So alongside learning classical music or dance and how to navigate the kitchen, we were educated in convents, sent to university and given a taste of personal choice and freedom, though with the implicit understanding that parental approval was paramount.

Apart from shared values, there is also the powerful magnetism of shared experience. The shenanigans in women’s hostels at Miranda House or LSR, the hustle and bustle of Lajpat Nagar, haggling for discounts on Janpath, eating chaat in Bengali market, being mesmerised by live music and dance performances in the hallowed auditoriums of Mandi House, swooning over Ameen Sayani’s voice and his Binaca Geetmala countdown, eating pizza and ice cream at Nirulas, laying the first foundations of our Delhi ethnic chic at the emporia of Baba Kharak Singh Marg and iconic Fab India, exploring the world through the libraries and programmes of USIS and the British Council, learning Japanese or German or French from native speakers, and so much more. We grew up cosmopolitan in the truest sense of the word.

Aptly, the theme for our celebration was Dilli 6. Evoking the vibrant chaos and sizzle of not just the galis of Old Delhi, but of our own sisterhood. Like the famous chaat served there – saucy, spicy, bold, textured and coming together in an amazing explosion – ours is a kinship that is unforgettable and irresistible. Yeh dil maange more!

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.