Seven years ago, my world – and the world of my then 10-year-old son, Suryansh – was irrevocably changed. When my wife, Kusum aka Vibha, passed away after a brave battle with cancer, we were left in a silence that no house is ever prepared for.
In a society that rightly celebrates the strength of single mothers, there is a quiet, overlooked shadow: The Single Father. We are not a myth. Yes, we are very few, especially in India – where you may know thousands of single mothers, but single fathers are rare. But we are here, raising the next generation in the trenches of grief and growth. Yet, for all the space we occupy in our children’s lives, we remain largely invisible to the world.
A Tribute to an Extraordinary Son
If Suryansh ever reads this, I want him to know one thing above all: You are truly an extraordinary boy. The circumstances we faced made you mature well before your age. Throughout this journey, you have been understanding, supportive, caring, and deeply loving. You weren’t just a child being raised; you were a partner in our survival.
But I also want you to know that it was okay to still be a kid. Even the strongest teenagers have a world of things struggling inside them – hormones, the pressure of growing up, and the simple, human need for a mother’s presence. When we fought or cried together, it wasn’t because you weren’t “doing enough” – it was because we were both learning to navigate a void that was never meant to be there. You did great, Suryansh. You always have.
The Village and the Specific Void
We were not alone. My mother – Suryansh’s grandmother – moved in with us to take care of him with immense love. She did everything humanly possible to anchor our home. However, as Suryansh grew, he realized the distinction: a grandmother is a treasure, but she is not a mother. He sought a mother’s unique parenting, and for that, he only had me.
I chose not to remarry – a decision I made happily and with a full heart – because I wanted to ensure my undivided attention and care were focused entirely on our bond. It wasn’t a sacrifice; it was my priority, and it has been the most fulfilling path I could have chosen. I gave myself completely to being the best father I could be, even trying my level best to “be a mother” too.
But the truth is, I didn’t have that “God-given” gift of motherhood. No matter how much I tried, I could never replicate the “golden touch” that mothers naturally possess. Mothers are the most beautiful, amazing beings – no one can truly come near that frequency of care.
The Academic Anchor: Class 5 to Class 12
In our Indian culture, the mother is often the silent engine behind a child’s education. From Class 5 to Class 12- the most defining years of a student’s life- it is usually the mother who manages the schedules, the exams, and the daily discipline of study.
Losing Kusum meant losing that academic foundation. I had to step into a role that was entirely foreign to me, trying to provide the stability and focus that only a mother truly knows how to give. Suryansh and I tried our best together to navigate his studies and excel in academics while through this grief & void, was nothing short of heroic.
The Search for a Map in the Dark
During these last seven years, I was a man trying my best to help a young kid grow in the best possible way, but I was often doing it in total isolation. When I looked for support online or in-person groups in India, I found plenty of resources for single mothers – and they absolutely deserve that support.
But for single fathers? Nothing. It is as if society believes men don’t need emotional communities, or that we don’t feel the same “Am I doing this right?” anxiety. Because we don’t naturally possess that maternal “golden touch,” we actually need more support, more resources, and a community that acknowledges our existence.
Lighting a Candle
I am writing this blog to raise a voice for the men standing in my shoes. I hope this “lights a candle” so that we can stop treating single fathers as an invisible demographic.
To the fathers doing the work: Your commitment is seen, even if the world isn’t looking.
To the sons like Suryansh: Your strength is heroic.
To all those loved ones who jumped in to support a single parent and/ or the kids who lost a parent – just as Suryansh’s grandmother, Smt. Pushpa ji, did for us – Thank you! Your love is the bridge that helped us cross the impossible
Rise To Survive Cancer 