One thing I have noticed about Gen-Z in India is that they are unhinged. I am not sure if it is the same case with Gen-Z around the world, but the ones in India truly seem to be. And no, I am not talking about student protests or anything political. I am talking about something much more personal.
As a 40+ unmarried woman, I have found myself being stared at by boys in their 20s while I am simply out and about. And interestingly, it is not the older men who are doing it. It is the younger ones, making their best attempts to lock eyes with me.
Apparently, according to what I keep seeing on social media, this is becoming a thing. There seems to be growing interest among younger men in dating significantly older women. Maybe it is a genuine preference. Maybe it is a fantasy. Maybe it is simply curiosity. From what I have read, many of these relationships don’t necessarily translate into long-term commitments, but the fact that younger men seem increasingly comfortable making their interest obvious is interesting in itself.
This changing scenario has resulted in books and movies exploring age-gap romances where the woman is older, like The Idea of You, as well as One & Only. One thing I’ve realised is that my mind is still not fully adapted to the idea of an age-gap romance. So when the lead characters make out, my first reaction is always, “OMG! But he’s just a kid!” Even when he’s actually a full-blown adult.
Now, getting to personal experiences. Recently, I mentioned my age to a boy in his 20s who simply wouldn’t look away.
His response?
“Age is just a number.”
So, apparently, that’s where we are now. Of course, this does not apply to all, because society at large age-shames women and finds older women unsuitable for relationships. But there is another part of this that I find much more interesting.
There is a very common, and frankly somewhat misogynistic, term for women who date significantly younger men: cougar.
Almost everyone knows the word. It has become so mainstream that you will find it casually used in movies, television, social media and everyday conversations.
But did you know there is a term for older men who pursue much younger women too?
Manther.
It is nowhere near as well known. In fact, I would bet that many people reading this have never heard the word before.
And that, in itself, says something about how we view relationships between older and younger people.
We are generally much more comfortable with men dating women who are 20 or 30 years younger, or even more. We rarely question it. “Love has no age,” we say.
Popular culture has reflected this dynamic for decades, with stories where an older man falls in love with a much younger woman being treated as perfectly normal, romantic or even aspirational.
But reverse the genders and suddenly the conversation changes.
An older woman with a younger man becomes a “cougar.” Her age becomes the focus. Her motives are questioned. She can be ridiculed, sexualized or shamed in a way that the older man in the equivalent relationship often isn’t.
And that brings me to something I genuinely wonder about.
How many people would actually be comfortable watching a mainstream movie where an older woman falls in love with a man 20 or 30 years younger than her, and the story treats their relationship with the same seriousness and romantic legitimacy usually given to an older man and a younger woman?
Would we call it a love story?
Or would we call her a cougar?
Maybe the younger generation really is changing some of these attitudes. Maybe the increased visibility of age-gap dating is slowly making older women dating younger men less unusual.
Or maybe we are simply becoming more comfortable talking about something that has always existed.
Either way, I find it fascinating that a 20-something can look at a woman in her 40s, hear her age, shrug and say, “Age is just a number.”
Perhaps Gen-Z really is unhinged.
Or perhaps they are just less bothered by rules that previous generations took for granted.
Anupama Parameswaran’s interview on narcissistic abuse has created quite a stir in the one day since it aired on Dhanya Varma’s YouTube channel. One thing she made very clear in the interview was why she chose to talk about her experience. She wanted people to recognize the signs of abuse.
As someone who got divorced several years ago after experiencing both emotional and physical abuse, I knew the comments blaming Anupama would come soon.
Comments like:
“Why is she talking about this in public? She just wants attention.”
“She’s the toxic one in the relationship. Glad her partner left her.”
“Women use the word ‘abuse’ so flippantly nowadays. I’m sure the matter must have been small.”
And sure enough, I soon saw a barrage of similar reactions on Reddit and X.
This reaction is one of the reasons many people hesitate to speak about abusive relationships. They know that once they talk about what happened, they may be questioned, blamed, mocked, or told that they simply did not try hard enough to save the marriage.
“Why talk about it?”
This is such a common question.
But I want to ask the opposite question: Why shouldn’t we talk about it?
It is because people like Anupama chose to talk openly about their pain that people like me were able to heal.
Today, someone going through emotional abuse, physical abuse, narcissistic abuse, or a difficult divorce can find videos, podcasts, interviews, reels, support groups and personal stories online.
When I was going through it, there weren’t nearly as many resources. I had to search for text blogs written by complete strangers who had experienced something similar.
I would read their stories and think, Okay, so I am not the only one who feels this way. Maybe I am not imagining this. Maybe what I am experiencing isn’t normal.
It wasn’t silence that helped me heal. It was people choosing to speak.
In my case, it wasn’t just a “bad marriage”
In my case, there was both physical and emotional abuse involved.
Yet, when you are trying to somehow make your marriage work because of societal pressure, you can find yourself surrounded by people who encourage you to compromise rather than asking whether you are safe or happy.
At one point, I was even advised by someone very close to me not to tell my parents about what was happening because they would get hurt.
Who was I supposed to talk to then?
I was losing a lot of weight at the time because fights would make me lose my appetite. I wasn’t simply dealing with an ordinary marital disagreement. I was struggling emotionally and physically, and yet the advice I received was often about protecting everyone else’s feelings.
When I mentioned the physical abuse, one relative dismissed it by saying:
“It happens in all relationships.”
Another told me to compromise and just keep saying “okay, okay” to everything he said.
This is the kind of advice that can make someone question their own reality.
The comparison game
One of the worst things about talking about abuse is the way people compare your experience with someone else’s.
When I tried to make the marriage work, my ex would taunt me with things along the lines of:
“See? What you faced wasn’t so bad after all. That’s why you’re willing to compromise and return to me. You should see women in actual abusive relationships. They end up in hospitals.”
But abuse doesn’t become acceptable simply because someone else experienced something worse.
You don’t have to wait until you are in a hospital before you are allowed to say that something is wrong.
Society has a strange way of making women feel childish for being unhappy in a relationship. You’re told that you’re not mature enough to deal with “normal” relationship problems. You’re told that marriage requires compromise. You’re told to adjust. You’re told to be patient.
And sometimes, what is really being asked of you is to tolerate things you should never have been expected to tolerate.
Society often cares more about preserving the marriage than the person inside it
This is something I understand much better now.
Society doesn’t necessarily care about your happiness. It often cares about keeping the marriage intact.
A woman who stays in an unhappy marriage can be praised for being patient, mature, understanding and a good homemaker.
A woman who leaves can suddenly become selfish, difficult, immature or incapable of compromise.
I was blamed too. I am sure there are still people who consider the divorce my fault. And honestly, I am fine with that now. I don’t have to prove my version of events to people who gave me terrible advice in the first place. I know what I experienced. I know what I went through. Nobody knows my struggles better than I do.
And I am happy now.
That is enough for me.
The “good guy” problem
There is another complication that I think people don’t talk about enough. Sometimes the person who is abusive also has a very amicable personality.
Anupama mentioned something similar in her interview, and it immediately resonated with me.
Some people are simply very good at being pleasant, charming and agreeable around others. So to the outside world, he is the “good guy.”
Meanwhile, you may be the quieter person. The recluse. The person who isn’t particularly good at maska polish. So when you finally talk about what happened, people find his version easier to believe than yours.
Because they have seen the charming version of him. They haven’t seen what happened behind closed doors.
That is one reason why survivors of emotional abuse can find it so difficult to speak. You are not just recounting what happened. You are also trying to convince people who have already formed an opinion of the person involved.
Sometimes there is one final moment
And just like Anupama said, sometimes there is a flip. A moment that finally makes you take the last step.
For me, it came after another fight. I made him promise in front of God that from then on, we would resolve our problems without abuse.
He broke that promise and then justified it again. That was the moment something clicked in my head.
If this man, who is religious, could make a promise in front of God and then break it and justify what he had done, how was he ever going to listen to me?
I immediately called my parents. I told them that either they picked me up or I was leaving that instant.
And that’s how I left my marriage.
In the dead of night.
In my night clothes.
With nothing but a handbag.
The strange little moments that helped me survive
Looking back, there were also tiny moments that reminded me that I could still make myself happy.
I remember one particular picture I took right after a fight. I had just finished an intense crying session when I basically thought, Aah, fuck this. Let me make myself happy. So I started clicking aesthetic pictures.
I hadn’t eaten all day because, during that period, fights would often make me lose my appetite. So I took myself out and treated myself to some food.
I ordered coffee. And when it arrived, there was this huge heart on it. I actually looked at the other people’s coffee to see whether they had something similar. Nope.
Maybe the guy could make out from my face that I needed it.
But that tiny heart warmed me in a way I had never felt in my marriage.
I eventually understood that we simply weren’t right for each other
These days, when people ask what happened, I usually say that we weren’t right for each other.
And that is, in a way, true.
Maybe with a more docile person, he wouldn’t have felt the need to “discipline” her. And perhaps with a different person, I wouldn’t have become so agitated either.
We had very different ways of thinking. We brought out the worst in each other. But saying that we weren’t right for each other doesn’t mean that abuse was okay.
Incompatibility can explain why a relationship doesn’t work. It does not excuse physical or emotional abuse.
That distinction matters.
Men can be victims too
And before anyone assumes that I think abuse is only something women experience, I don’t.
Men can be victims of emotional and physical abuse too. I have witnessed it myself. In some ways, male victims face an additional barrier because society still doesn’t give men enough room to admit that they are hurting.
They’re expected to be strong. To control their emotions. To “man up.” To deal with relationship problems without admitting that they are being hurt.
That needs to change too.
Abuse is abuse, regardless of the gender of the person experiencing it.
Why talking about abuse matters
This is why I don’t understand the “Why talk about it?” reaction.
People talk because someone else might be going through the same thing and doesn’t yet have the words for it.
People talk because someone may recognize a warning sign.
People talk because someone may finally realize that what they have been told is “normal” isn’t normal.
People talk because sometimes hearing another person’s story is the first thing that makes you feel less alone.
I know this because I was that person.
I healed partly because strangers were willing to write about their experiences when I needed to read them.
Today, people have far more ways to find that kind of support. They can watch an interview, listen to a podcast, find a video, read a personal blog, or come across someone speaking openly about their experience.
That is not attention-seeking.
Sometimes, it is someone putting their pain into words so that another person doesn’t have to feel as alone as they once did.
So when someone asks, “Why talk about it?”
My answer is simple:
Because silence never helped me heal. People speaking about what they went through did.
And if sharing your experience helps even one person recognize emotional abuse, physical abuse, narcissistic abuse, or an unhealthy relationship and find the courage to leave, then talking about it was worth it.
And if you’re currently in a situation like the one I was in, please don’t make my mistake. Don’t let people convince you that you need to endure more before your pain becomes “serious enough.”
You don’t owe anyone a marriage at the cost of your happiness, safety or self-respect.
One last thing
And I want to add one more thing: the emotional manipulation.
Every time an episode of abuse happens, the person knows they have done something wrong. So they cry, apologize, promise it won’t happen again, and you, especially if you’re an empath, fall for it. You want to believe them. You want to believe that this was the last time.
But it doesn’t stop.
Eventually, even the crying and apologizing become less frequent. A sort of “What are you going to do about it?” attitude starts taking over. There is a smugness that comes from knowing you will tolerate it anyway.
That was when I finally told my parents.
My father and mother, God bless them, refused to let me return to that house unless he genuinely changed his ways. But his response was, “My house, my rules.”
And that was the end of that.
I also understand that having supportive parents is a privilege and a blessing. Not every woman has that safety net. Some parents won’t allow their daughters to return home, and that’s when the feeling of being trapped can become unbearable. For some women, that mental pain can become so overwhelming that they see no way out.
I know what that kind of mental pain feels like.
In my case, though, I knew I would never choose death. If my parents hadn’t supported me, I would have simply run away, started from scratch and figured out a way to survive. I had enough confidence in myself because of the little work experience I had already gained.
That’s one of the reasons I stress so much on financial independence for women.
Having your own income isn’t just about money. It gives you options. It gives you confidence. It gives you the knowledge that even if everything falls apart, you can rebuild your life.
I know women who feel completely tied down because they don’t have financial independence. To them, I would say: start small. Take up whatever work you can, in whatever way you can. It doesn’t have to be your dream job or a huge salary.
The first step is knowing that you can earn something on your own.
Because sometimes, that little bit of independence is what gives you the confidence to finally walk away.
If you’ve ever loved and lost, you’ll probably relate to Musafir Cafe.
The yearning, confusion, helplessness, and desperate search for closure all felt incredibly real. It is one of those rare romance dramas that understands that moving on isn’t as simple as people make it seem.
Love is rarely a straight road, yet many Bollywood romance films still portray it that way. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and the conflicts are usually external, whether it’s parents, caste, or society.
While those issues absolutely continue to exist today, many modern relationships fall apart for entirely different reasons. Ego clashes, incompatibility, poor communication, bad timing, emotional baggage, and countless other factors play a role.
Relationships are layered and complicated, so why are we still confined to the typical boy-meets-girl stories?
That is where Musafir Cafe stands out. Instead of polishing relationships into something easy to consume, it embraces the messiness of love. The emotions feel raw, honest, and deeply human.
Even when the characters move forward with their lives, the past never completely disappears. And that’s exactly how real life works. We all carry pieces of our past relationships with us. They shape who we become. Some people turn them into lessons, while others carry the bitterness into every relationship that follows.
I haven’t read the book that Musafir Cafe is based on, and I actually think that worked in my favor. Once you’ve read the original book, comparisons are almost impossible to avoid. Going into the Netflix series without those expectations allowed me to experience the story exactly as it unfolded, without constantly measuring it against the source material.
The standout performance for me was Vedika Pinto as Sudha. A very close second was Mahima Makwana as Preeti, only because she wasn’t given enough screen time. But the moment she broke down in sheer helplessness, I found myself tearing up too. That fear of losing everything precious to you felt painfully relatable.
What resonated with me even more was her attempt to handle the situation with maturity despite the emotional turmoil. That part felt deeply personal because I’m exactly the same when it comes to matters of love. I don’t create a scene. I create space for the other person to process their emotions, even when it hurts.
Another refreshing aspect of Musafir Cafe was how natural everyone looked on screen. No obvious lip fillers or overly polished appearances. It reminded me of the 90s, when actors looked more relatable and expressive.
It was also nice to see small black bindis, black kajal, long earrings, and flowy Indian outfits take center stage again. These were once iconic Bollywood fashion staples but have become less common with the rise of minimalist beauty trends. Whether you prefer minimalism or not, there’s no denying that these little details add a certain charm and charisma to female characters.
Personally, I’ve always felt that black kajal has a depth that brown kajal simply doesn’t. It frames the eyes in a way that’s hypnotic. It’s probably one of the reasons people on Reddit still bring up Alia Bhatt’s looks in films like 2 States and Badrinath Ki Dulhania. Her bold black kajal became such a defining part of those looks.
If you’re looking for a heartwarming yet emotionally honest Netflix series, I’d definitely recommend giving Musafir Cafe a watch. It has around 8 episodes, making it an easy binge.
I started watching Off Campus because of all the social media hype surrounding the series. It took me almost two weeks to finish it, but honestly, that is how I watch almost every show these days.
In fact, it is not limited to web series alone. I often break movies into 30-minute sessions and watch them over several days like a series. I used to think it was because my attention span had become shorter. But then I watched both parts of Dhurandhar, which were over three hours each, in the theatre without feeling bored for a second. That made me realize the issue probably is not my attention span. The story simply has to hook me enough.
Anyway, back to Off Campus.
One thing I appreciated about this Amazon Prime series is that it fully embraces the campus drama setting and focuses on the lives of young adults. That said, I found it a little difficult to relate to the “college student” aspect because most of the cast looked quite grown-up and remarkably sorted out for their age.
As someone who belongs firmly to the K-drama enthusiast camp, I also struggled a bit with how physical the relationships felt compared to the emotional depth I am used to seeing in Korean dramas. The show does explore trauma, vulnerability, and personal growth, but it never quite reaches the level of empathy and layered storytelling that many K-dramas excel at. Because of that, the series did not emotionally move me as much as I expected.
At the same time, I completely understand why Off Campus has resonated with younger audiences. Beneath the romance, it talks about important themes like dealing with complicated feelings, open communication, consent, emotional support, and empathy. These may sound basic, but they are often easier said than done.
Personally, I enjoyed the friendship between Hannah and Allie even more than some of the main romantic storylines. The scene where Hannah finally chooses to share her story with Allie was an absolute tearjerker for me. Truly, blessed are those who have a friend like that in their lives.
I also found Allie’s romantic arc far more nuanced and interesting. She desperately wants to prove she can be alone without using relationships as a crutch and, in the process, makes some questionable decisions. Honestly, that felt very relatable because most of us have done our fair share of nonsense while trying to convince ourselves we have everything figured out.
Her confusion is what makes the storyline compelling. She has a partner who is not a bad person by any measure, but he is not quite the right person for her either. That grey area, where nobody is necessarily wrong yet things still do not feel right, makes for a much more engaging relationship story. Mika Abdalla aces the role. Her resemblance to the Indian actress, Mahima Chaudhry, is also uncanny.
For me, the overall vibe of Off Campus felt like a blend of 13 Reasons Why and Beartown. Because of that, it did not feel particularly fresh or groundbreaking. A quick Google search tells me that the Off Campus books were published around the same period as Beartown, and some even earlier. Still, my point is simply that the storyline felt familiar to me.
Overall, I think Off Campus is a decent one-time watch if you enjoy young adult romance. It may not have offered anything entirely new, but it was engaging enough to keep me watching.
Off Campus is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
I often find myself missing the old Bollywood romance era. Films by Yash Chopra or early Karan Johar had a kind of magic that is hard to find today. The lead pairs had real chemistry, the kind that made you feel every emotion with them. When they looked at each other with misty eyes, you felt like you were falling in love too.
But in many new-generation films, that spark seems lost. I don’t know whether it’s the acting, the writing, or the shift in filmmaking trends. Modern romance feels rushed, predictable, too dark, melancholic, or sometimes just flat. The warmth, passion, and emotional storytelling that defined classic Hindi cinema is fading, and I genuinely miss it.
In today’s film landscape, Rohit Saraf feels like a breath of fresh air. He brings back that soft, believable romance many of us grew up loving. One thing that stands out about him is his effortless chemistry with his co-stars.
My favorite project of his isn’t even a Hindi film. It’s the Tamil romance Kamali From Nadukkaveri, where his performance and chemistry with the lead actress, Anandhi, is genuine and sweet. I would also suggest watching his earlier series on Zee5 titled Woh Bhi Din The. He filmed it when he was much younger. The emotional connection between the characters feels very real. Also, let’s not forget his impeccable chemistry with Pearle Maaney in Ludo, which remains one of my favourites.
In Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari, Rohit Saraf continues that image of the ideal romantic partner. His chemistry with Janhvi Kapoor feels natural and much stronger compared to the chemistry between the main lead pair. Honestly, their scenes had more warmth and emotional pull. I found myself wishing the makers had focused on that storyline instead of pushing the romance between Janhvi and Varun Dhawan. It felt like the more organic love story was sitting right there, but never fully explored.
Personnally, I feel Rohit Saraf deserves more recognition for keeping that old-school romantic charm alive.
Maybe it’s time filmmakers start looking for the right lead pair for Rohit Saraf. If they get that pairing right, many of us women could finally relive the era of Kajol and Shah Rukh Khan or Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla. Those iconic pairs made romance feel real, soft, and unforgettable.
A couple with that kind of natural chemistry is missing in today’s Hindi films, and audiences like me are definitely craving it.
I recently watched Jovita George’s “Dating After Divorce” video on YouTube. First of all, kudos to her for creating such a video. This kind of content is still not very common, and many women, especially in the Malayalee community, hesitate to talk openly about their divorce stories. So seeing Jovita share her experience really impressed me. It has also motivated me to talk about my own journey with relationships (and also friendships) after divorce. So here goes.
Lessons and Red Flags
I will start not with relationships, but with the judgments you face as a divorced woman.
This may not be everyone’s experience, but after my divorce, I often sensed a certain judgment from people around me, not always from my male friends, but from the women in their lives.
For example, a male friend’s wife suddenly became suspicious of me, as if divorced women are seen as people who “prey” on married men. No one says it openly, but the distrust in their eyes makes it obvious. This was especially frustrating because I have always been careful around married men, even those who were flirtatious. I never encouraged them as I was always mindful of what their wife would feel. Yet society is quick to judge a woman the moment a man interacts with her.
It also became clear that many men, both married and unmarried, see a divorced woman as “easy.” They approach you often for casual fun. “Friends with Benefits.” Because you are deemed as someone who’s not serious about relationships, because you chose to “throw away” a marriage. It feels sad, but it happens.
This stereotype gets even stronger because of how movies and dramas show divorced women. They’re often portrayed as someone trying to break another woman’s marriage — the evil, overly glamorous vamp who cares only about herself. You hardly ever see a divorced woman on screen who’s just like anyone else, someone who wants warmth, kindness, and love.
So a divorced woman who wants something serious needs to stay alert and filter out these shallow bonds.
Finding Love Again After Divorce
I eventually got into a long, serious relationship. We met through mutual friends, and at first it felt promising. But it soon went downhill. I realised he was never truly serious. And the reason was my divorce status. That hit hard. It felt like he was embarrassed by who I was.
That’s something divorced women should watch out for — a man can say he’s serious, but you only know the truth when his actions match his words.
The gaslighting made it even worse. He made me think I shouldn’t feel the way I did, even when I felt disrespected. It was mentally draining, yet I held on because I wanted the relationship to work. His anger and verbal jabs made me anxious, and over time, they chipped away at my confidence.
When that relationship ended, I was shattered. I had loved him despite all the red flags. But the truth was hard to face — I don’t think he even saw me as a friend. There was no warmth, no respect. It’s tough to process that after all the compromises you make.
That experience changed me. It made me far more cautious about getting into a relationship again.
Slow and Steady
After that, I met someone by chance. A divorced man, part of my school group. He’s someone just as cautious as I am, so we take things slow. Both of us carry scars from our past. Probably why we’re kind to each other. Even when we fight, we stay respectful. That matters a lot to me, considering my past hasn’t been so kind. He feels like home because he is steady and respectful. Still, after what I went through, a part of me wonders how long it will last, even though we’ve been together for years now.
We’re not chasing marriage. We just want respect and companionship. How long this will last, I really don’t know. When you’ve seen bad relationships, there’s always that little voice saying good times don’t last. He could be the one, or maybe not. Time will decide.
So this is what dating after divorce has been like for me.
And here’s a reminder for divorced women — other people’s judgments only hurt when you believe them yourself. Don’t bring yourself down just to fit their expectations.
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