Tahira Kashyap Khurrana: “Motherhood is not a personality” 

“I don’t know how it could happen to someone twice; I must be really careless,” Tahira Kashyap Khurrana laughs over Zoom, as she tells me how both her pregnancies were unplanned. The author’s fifth and latest book, The 7 Sins Of Being A Mother (published by Juggernaut), hit stands today and is likely to be received as well as its prequel, The 12 Commandments Of Being A Woman, was last year. Kashyap Khurrana’s new book is a breezy 145-pager. I read it in one sitting late at night and found myself suppressing giggles as I was whisked away on a relatable journey of raging hormones, maternal guilt and thoughts of infidelity—which was surprising because I am not a mother and don’t intend to be one.

But that’s where Kashyap Khurrana succeeds as a writer. She doesn’t mince words, she doesn’t use the kind of jargon that will have you reaching for a dictionary and, most importantly, she doesn’t make you roll your eyes when she talks about motherhood. Her observations are honest, relatable and at times, hilarious—being a mother is messy and kids aren’t the angelic cherubs the world makes them out to be. In a freewheeling conversation, Kashyap Khurrana touches upon receiving unsolicited pregnancy advice, the unreal expectations of being a mother and bringing up two children during a pandemic:

It’s interesting how you bring up that women are not supposed to express sexual desire when they’re pregnant because motherhood is associated with piety and giving. Western pop culture famously shows women feeling even more lustful during pregnancy. Why do you think India reduces the status of mothers to sexless caregivers? 

Blame it on the kind of cinema and books we've watched and read while growing up, the kind of media campaigns and advertisements that show women either multitasking effortlessly or sacrificing all in the name of motherhood. Mother India (1957) is a classic example. Like the whole “Hain toh aakhir maa ka dil” (it’s a mother’s heart after all) narrative or the famous “Mere Karan Arjun aayenge” (My Karan and Arjun will return). In all these movies, there is nothing more to the woman than being a mother. See, I’m not denying that maternal instincts are fascinating and very real, but there are so many other aspects to a woman’s personality—motherhood is not a personality. In our country, everything that is divorced from motherhood is looked down upon. In case a new mum wants to go to a party or have sex (with her own husband!), they're almost considered deviant. I think Western cultures are quite sex-positive in comparison so there isn’t that much stigma.

In Indian families, well-meaning pregnancy advice often turns out to be intrusive and unsolicited. In your book, you claim to have experienced this with as well. That being said, have you ever received any good pregnancy advice?

So I took my first pregnancy very seriously. That’s not to say that every pregnancy shouldn’t be handled with seriousness, but you’re just more careful during your first one. I read many books and I listened to all the elders at home before I realised that everyone had their not-so-useful two cents to add. Another thing that makes me livid is how you lose agency of your body when your baby bump starts showing because everyone feels entitled to cradle it when they meet you. But honestly, none of the advice helped because every delivery is so different. My mother told me that she had experienced a surge of emotions when I popped out of her and she felt this intense need to hold my hand. It is believed that that first touch decides the kind of bond you’ll share with your baby, but having been in labour for over 12 hours—and swearing throughout—I couldn’t feel anything when I saw my baby. I did not want to hug him. I could see the doctors and nurses silently judging me so I just nuzzled my nose against his. That’s actually what I want expecting and future mothers to understand when they read my book. Don’t buy into the stereotypes and take all the advice you’re given; send it sailing through the window.

Breastfeeding, “natural” vaginal delivery and putting the family's needs before yours are all markers of a good mother. Why is so much of motherhood associated with "toiling" and "pain"? 

I often ask myself that as well. Reminds me of Rani Mukherjee in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) when she decided to give birth to her child even if it meant she would lose her own life in the process. For some reason, going through pain is like a rite of passage for a mother. Even if it’s not really needed, you’re expected to undergo suffering and pain for your family, you’re supposed to put all your dreams on hold while they blossom. Of course, the father is exempt from these rules. I’m not on board with that. I want to share the responsibility of my children with my partner. If I want to go watch a movie in the theatre when the baby is just three months old and have a caregiver, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s problem. Similarly, it’s my choice if I want to breastfeed or top feed—babies turn out healthy in both cases. I don’t think you really even need to be a mother to have someone else’s opinions forced on you; just being a woman is enough.

The ongoing pandemic, the looming climate crisis and fractured political systems have converted many into anti-natalists—those who believe that it is morally wrong or unjustifiable to have children. Yet people who choose not to have kids for whatever reason are shamed for being “unfeeling”. How can we combat the stigma associated with not wanting kids at all?

It’s rather unfortunate that we live in a world with such limited vision, driven by a few opinion leaders and the choices that they make. Having kids is the norm because historically, the majority has chosen to have them. Homosexuality is the exception because heterosexuality is the rule. And of course, one of the best ways to overthrow these maxims is by opening the lines of communication like you and I are doing just now. Hopefully, it might also influence the people reading this interview. But it really does need to happen. Our society’s elders need to stop going up to couples at family functions and coaxing them into having kids. I’m friends with this couple who actually stopped attending family functions because they wouldn’t shut up about having kids. The woman is now 46 or 48 so the family think they’re being “progressive” when they ask her to adopt a child instead. Simply put, she must be a mother one way or another.

Women are also shamed for enlisting the help of nannies and encouraged to get “the full experience” of motherhood instead. These rules don't apply to fathers. Even as India slowly inches towards some semblance of an egalitarian society, why do mothers and fathers continue to be held to such different standards?

Oh, I really felt pressured into redeeming myself in this case because I did not have a vaginal delivery, which is frustratingly referred to as a “normal delivery” in hospitals. Just that constant feeling of being the opposite of normal made me want to discharge all the motherly duties myself. Of course, I failed miserably. There’s this chapter in the book where I talk about forgetting to wear my bra when my friends whisked me away to a coffee shop. And it was such an overwhelming feeling of failure at the time—I started crying and my breasts also started crying with me (in that they were leaking). The second time around, I had learned my lesson and promptly went and got myself help. It’s absolutely true that mothers and fathers are held to different standards but with Ayushmann travelling for work all the time, we didn’t have much of an option. All I could do was try and make things easier for myself.

In your book, you also talk about the modern-day pressures of getting back to your pre-delivery body. Is it, in part, due to the growing tribe of actors and models who have glorified it in recent years?

100% yes. Actors are opinion leaders and shapers, and they really do influence the youth. Being in my twenties when I had my first kid, I was absolutely driven to get back to fitness and ended up being really harsh on myself. I started eating very less, which affected my milk production and just added to the heap of guilt I was already feeling. I gained 20 kilos during my first pregnancy, out of which the entire weight came onto me because my baby weighed only 2.5 kg—which is also something I was shamed for. So people in positions of power really need to be mindful of the kind of messages they are sending out when they set these #fitnessgoals and #mommygoals. While writing my book, I tried to be as genuine as I could instead of trying to portray that I was the perfect mother because I am not. And I wish someone had been there to say these things to me. Even something as simple as “you don’t need to have surplus milk”.

Bringing up two kids during a pandemic cannot be easy….

I was just astounded when I heard that playschools were being conducted online. An online playschool? That’s an oxymoron! It was definitely challenging when our lives went completely digital; we just about managed to keep ourselves from taking out knives from the kitchen and stabbing each other. There were so many Zoom links being thrown at me, I lost all track of what my kids were actually supposed to be learning. I was also writing my first book at the time and it became increasingly hard to find the words in that kind of mental space. But I’ve grown a lot more patient over the months. If my kids miss their classes sometimes, I don’t go as berserk as I used to. They’re not the perfect kids and I’m not the perfect mother. Wait, I actually think I can add that to my list of sins—allowing my kids to bunk school!

Also read:

Anushka Sharma on her experience of pregnancy: “You are more connected to your body, to all that is happening”

“It was a fucking nightmare”: Kalki Koechlin gets candid about pregnancy and parenting in a new graphic novel out today

4 stylish mums-to-be share their pregnancy journeys and maternity style tips