Last year, I told Pallavi Navin from Godrej Fund Management that I would be moving from the project we were working on, to take a break from professional life and spend time with my newborn son. I was pleasantly surprised when recently, Pallavi recalled our conversations and told me about Godrej’s two-month secondary caregiver leave policy for new parents. I wondered, if I had had the option of a two-month paternity leave – would things have been different?
I want to take this opportunity to share my personal journey as a full-time father; not only the fears, uncertainties, and perceived social stigma of being a home-bound man but also the immense joys, magical moments and an opportunity for a second, more meaningful life!
In August, after nine years and eleven months at one of India’s premiere design consultancies, I resigned from a key regional position to be a full-time father.
It was a tough decision. Over the previous decade, I had given myself over to my work in architecture and urban design. In return, my organisation had rewarded me richly with opportunities, visibility, and growth. I thrived in their fast-paced environment at the cutting edge of real-estate developments for close to a decade. I loved my team and had fond regard for my mentors and bosses. My profile brought me in direct contact with some of the most influential Indian leaders and global corporations, and I was acutely aware of the responsibility on my shoulders to do justice by the firm and the profession.
My life changed forever early last January when my wife and I welcomed our son into this world. It was the most common of all miracles (after all, we are eight billion strong) and yet, witnessing my wife’s journey from pregnancy to childbirth stirred deep emotions in me that challenged the fundamentals of my ambitions. I was not fully present (physically, mentally or emotionally) for my wife during her pregnancy, but I wanted to do better and be there for her and my son.
Before our son was born, someone told us: “The nights are long, but the years are short.” This is true but I did not realise this when just on his second day, I attended meetings from the hospital room. The first few months slipped away from us as easily as seconds. As I struggled to remember my son’s face at one day, one week and one month old, I recalled how when I was an infant, my father, who had a travelling job, would be in town only on Sundays. He is a deeply affectionate man who missed much of my infancy. He made up for his absence with an overflowing love for every minute he spent with us. I wondered if we had made any progress as a family if I was also unable to be present in my son’s childhood.
One thing was clear: I wanted to be at home more often and for as long as possible; and that could happen only if I left full-time employment.
There were three powerful deterrents to my resigning from a lucrative, industry-leading job.
First, I’d spent far longer in academia than my peers. After post-graduation, I taught at a college, then studied liberal arts and later worked in the intersection of journalism and social impact before returning to architecture. It took five long years. I remember vividly how difficult it was to find a job. By the time I began drawing my first salary, my friends were already way ahead. So I had to first overcome this feeling of financial inadequacy.
Second, I was scared I would ‘lose’ the career I had worked so hard to build. I did not think it would be possible to climb up the ladder once again.
Third, I was afraid I would miss out on all the fun. My team, my sites, my office, my firm, the events and the sheer exhilaration of the professional life; FOMO.
On the other hand, I was living through circumstances that motivated me to take the plunge.
First, with barely enough time to acquaint myself with a life-changing reality I had to take several days off in addition to my short paternity leave to be with my son and help my wife recover. Between the long hours at work, the short hours at home, the lack of sleep, a tiring commute, and the creeping guilt that I was doing justice neither at home nor at work, a kernel of doubt began to emerge. Second, in my ten years at the firm I had effectively neglected my health to grow at break-neck speed. I began burning out. I knew I had already given the best years of my life in pursuit of my ambitions, and I also knew that I would rather burn steadily like a candle than violently like a firecracker. Upon introspecting, I realized that I could not continue to be effective unless I took pause and slowed down to refresh myself. Third and perhaps most importantly, I love my wife and child. I knew that the time I missed watching my son grow would never come back. And I wanted to be home more often to help my wife, a performing Carnatic classical vocalist, return to the stage after a break.
Now, at 15 months old, my son and I share a special relationship. But at first, it was not easy at all. A lingering emptiness from the work-life often knocked at my door. As any hands-on parent would agree, taking care of a child is physically exhausting, emotionally draining and mentally taxing. But once I persevered and got beyond those difficult first couple of months, it was the most amazing time. Everything my son does is so endearing, and every new thing he does is so exciting. I watch him learn from me and learn by himself. I’ve invented new games, made up languages and stories and pondered about how my actions left an imprint on him. As his cognition develops, I see how he directs his emotions to me and my wife. He sees us as distinct personalities who bring something unique to his life. And I just know, when he extends his body to me to be carried and laughs upon seeing me that he loves me. It really helps that I have also been emotionally fully available to him. Because, I really doubt I would have had any meaningful relationship with him this early had I been juggling work, transit and home.
It is easy within our cultural milieu for husbands to forget that women are sacrificing their careers to bear children. Their bodies undergo a stressful transformation. Emotionally, there is uncertainty and fear for the child’s well-being. They face fears about losing a career very similar to what I’ve described about my own journey, but the world is often dismissive of their ambitions because it is assumed that a mother’s role is to bear and nurture children. I do think that responsibility of helping the mother on her journey back to good health, a purposeful career, her social sweet spot and her success should be an important part of the father’s duty and desire for a good family life. It seems both unfair and inconsiderate to leave a young mother to deal with recovery, childcare and feeding on top of everything else.
This December, we were in Chennai for close to a month where, every year, my wife performs at important venues. Last year, in her last month of pregnancy, she had sacrificed this privilege. But this year, my heart was full seeing her on stage, at packed venues and joyous to be back with her mentors and friends from her fraternity.
As I reflect on the past year, I can say that I made the right decision. And as a family we are closer and happier.
Most men in my position who desire to take these steps may have to face another unpleasant reality. Cultural attitudes towards men who take decisions like mine are not forgiving. I am lucky that I did not have to face such questions from my family. The career-minded man of today who is on the verge of becoming a parent has in some ways a greater stake in being present for his spouse and child. We are one of the conduits for the family unit to evolve to a greater freedom and joy. When men are conspicuously absent from a young family’s life, they leave a vacuum that nobody else can fill. Indeed, when I spoke to a few older men after resigning, many of them lamented how they completely missed their children growing up.
So, what’s next for me?
Paradoxically, I have spent more time focusing on myself in the last nine months than I had in the previous ten; let’s call it a gestation of sorts! In addition to taking care of my son, we have been travelling, making ample time for friends and family and reconnecting with each other on a fundamental level. I have returned to my childhood hobbies of gardening, philately and numismatics. I have returned to reading books on philosophy, history, literature, architecture and urban design. My ex-colleagues and I keep in touch often. I have traded panel appearances at trade events for taking notes at professional conclaves where I continue to be invited by well-wishers and professional friends – so much for FOMO!
As I raise my son, I am also bringing myself up. My energies are building up and I feel recharged to take on new and exciting challenges! I am more committed to returning to social impact projects that I had not been able to work on for some time. And I am more committed to engaging in research and the discovery of an architecture/urbanism of inclusion which had been my thesis during my postgraduate days. Even as the panic of not receiving monthly paychecks was beginning to set in, I had been receiving enquiries to work on extremely interesting design projects. Seeing this new opportunity to build a career on my own terms, I have established my own design studio with a close friend. As I have learned to tell myself, there is enough for me to be happy without wanting to have more. All in all, I feel relaxed, rejuvenated and grateful.
In getting in touch with my son’s childishness, I am filled with awe and a deep sense of wonder at how beautiful life is and how much more of it there is for me to reclaim.
P.S. If resigning from my job is doing all this good to me, surely a two-month secondary caregiver break will let you have your cake and eat it too!
Jayesh Ganesh is an architect, urbanist and full-time father. He lives in Bengaluru with his wife, Aishwarya Vidhya Raghunath, son Savitur and two doggies Raaga and Lupin.