We are enough!

The Echoes of “Sirf Teen Behene ho, Bhai Nahi Hai!”  

Circa 1990 to 2005

Growing up across different cities was magical— Different culture, languages, cuisine, and festivals. But one thing remained the same wherever we went: Yes of course, the happy and unique memories.

But the inevitable question, ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have’ always surfaced, prompting my consistent response: "We are three sisters!" This declaration left every Sharmaji and pados wali auntybaffled. And a deep sigh and all sympathy for my parents accompany their response: "sirf teen behene ho, bhai nahi hai!” (Only three sisters, no brother!)

Art by Minas Avetsiyan

 If I had, wouldn't I admit to it, why would I lie or hide him? They kept searching for that 'missing brother' — the one who was actually never missed.

In our quiet neighborhood, this phrase echoed so often, it became part of the air we breathed. We were just three sisters in a world that longed for sons. And while my parents never seemed disturbed by this, their peace disturbed everyone else.

We didn’t fit the ideal Indian family narrative—no heir, no “ghar ka chirag.” Raised eyebrows, hushed gossip, and unsolicited blessings for a male child followed us everywhere.

The absence of a boy seemed like a flaw only outsiders could see. But inside our home, we were complete. We laughed, fought, shared secrets, lifted each other up. When asked, “Don’t you wish you had a brother?” we’d smile and say, “No. We have each other. That’s more than enough!" Our sisterhood was our source of strength, a bond that provided us with a sense of security and companionship that surpassed the limitations of gender norms.

Art by Chanchal Anasooya

Circa 2017

Fast forward to the year 2017! Now, I’m a mother to a four-year-old daughter—with a career, a curious mind, and a full life. I love meeting new people. I met people who have so much to ask me. About my job, my daughter, how I manage work and professional life. Then there's a recurring curiosity regarding when I plan to have a baby boy, especially since my daughter is now 5.  Even today, elders bless me with wishes for a son. As if my daughter is wonderful… but still not quite the final chapter.

Circa 2020

There's more acceptance now for families without sons. Yet, the obsession hasn't vanished—it has just changed clothes. The persistent emphasis on having only one child, however, remains a prevailing concern for many.

People don’t always say it outright. But the expectations hide between words. Especially when you have a single daughter. "Good news kab dogi?" They mean pregnancy. But really, they mean: a boy this time, right?

Even the idea of a sibling often carries a silent connotation—a male one.

Circa 2025

My daughter is now 12, who frequently encounters the same line of questioning that often revolves around societal expectations. However, in response, she nonchalantly shrugs and says, “I’m enough.” And she means it.

Watching her—unbothered, self-assured—I feel pride swell inside me. Another fierce, thoughtful girl growing into her voice, her place, her power.

Art by Richa Kashelkar

Today

Some words have changed. But the old biases? They still find ways to sneak in. Still, we continue—raising daughters who don’t bend to these expectations. Telling stories that challenge the script. And proving, again and again:

Three sisters once dismissed as incomplete.

One daughter now shaping her world, undeterred.

Maybe we were never missing a brother—

Maybe the world was just missing our story.

- Richa Agrawal (Richa is a collector of moments, spiller of words, believer in beautiful chaos — and an unapologetic tea lover.)