Skip to main content

If Sunita Williams had an Indian husband – Mission Impossible

They say, behind every successful man, there is a woman. But behind every successful woman, there is a man who actually lets her be successful.

Take Sunita Williams, for example. If she hadn’t married Michael J. Williams, would she still hold the record for the longest time spent in space? Hard to say. This isn’t even the first time she’s been away from home for ages—she previously spent 195 days in space during Expedition 14/15 (2006-2007).

Now, imagine if Michael J. Williams wasn’t progressive enough. Would he have “allowed” his wife to go on another space mission? Granted, she initially went for an eight-day test flight, but due to a technical malfunction, her stay got extended to over nine months. If Michael J. Williams were like many husbands we see around us, he might have burned NASA down in frustration. He’d have stormed into their office, made an emergency call to Sunita, and demanded she return—or worse, booked himself on the next available flight to space to bring her back!

Indian Wife’s “Space Mission”

In an average Indian household, if a wife wants to visit her maike (maternal home) for even a week, she first has to:

✔ Pack up the kids and take them along (because leaving them with the husband? That’s a joke).
✔ Cook multiple meals in advance, label each container, and provide detailed instructions on what to eat, when to heat, and how not to burn the house down.
✔ Prepare to return to chaos—a messy kitchen, a disaster-struck bedroom, and a house crying for her attention.

Now, Sunita Williams was gone for nine months. Nine. Whole. Months. So, the real question is: How did Michael J. Williams survive?

  • Who fed him?
  • Who made sure he was sleeping on time?
  • Who washed his clothes and folded them?
  • Who ensured the house didn’t turn into a disaster zone?

These are mysteries for which I am still awaiting a response from Michael J. Williams.

No Kids – Is That Even an Option?

Oh, and let’s not forget the most important part—they don’t have kids.

  • If Sunita had married into a typical Indian family and hadn’t conceived within three months, the entire household would have gone into panic mode.
  • If she dared to say she didn’t want kids, she’d be hit with the ultimate question: “Are you even a woman?”
  • If she had trouble conceiving, she’d be put through an endless cycle of treatments until she produced not one, but at least two or three children.
  • And once the kids arrived? Space? Career? Personal life? Forget it. Her world would revolve around her husband and children, with maybe a small job—because, you know, “she should contribute, but not too much.”

If you ask me who my favourite people are, it’s Michael J. Williams and Doug Emhoff—two men married to incredibly successful women with Indian roots. How are you both such selfless husbands?

I closely follow some Indian women who have outshined their husbands. Most of them avoid joint appearances—probably to prevent a domestic cold war. But when they do show up together, the media ensures maximum damage:

📸 The photographers zoom in on the wife, treating the husband like an unfortunate extra in his own marriage.

📸 The cameras then pan to the husband—arms crossed, jaw clenched, looking like he just lost a Best Supporting Actor award.

📸 And then comes the grand finale—the wife running after him, whispering frantic apologies while he walks off, dramatically questioning his entire existence.

Because, let’s be real—The Indian Gharana (household) wouldn’t tolerate a man being an accessory to his wife’s success. 😂

Nisha Kurian (O'Rodha)

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Alumni Meet: Celebrating Love Beyond Achievements

Now, a month after returning from Jammu, I find myself missing everything I experienced during that visit — the warmth, the laughter, the sense of belonging that only comes from going back to where it all began. I’ve attended most of these first-time alumni meets — from school through college. The excitement of those initial reunions is indescribable: meeting old friends, hugging your favorite teachers, walking through familiar hallways — the classrooms, the library, the canteen, the playground. It fills you with something deeply profound. But often, the magic doesn’t last beyond that first meet. Over time, these gatherings can subtly shift into platforms for showcasing personal achievements. And let’s face it — some accomplishments are more “celebrated” than others. These are the people who grace the stage, the ones everyone wants to take selfies with. That’s why my recent experience at an alumni meet — at the school where I studied from KG through Grade 8 — felt so refreshingly...
Post a Comment
Read more

I ran from religion and sports, but they found me anyway

I’ve consciously kept away from two things my entire life — religion and sports (especially football and cricket). The unnecessary hype, the mass hysteria, the blind fanaticism — it just never made sense to me. When I was pregnant with my eldest, I was told I’d become a mother by August. Like any typical mother (fathers usually aren’t as invested in this part), I set off on an excited, determined hunt for a unique name — something rooted in Sanskrit, something that reflected my values, my philosophy, and the kind of person I hoped my child would grow to be. But life had other plans. In July — much earlier than expected — I was rushed to the emergency room, and my son was born almost a month ahead of schedule. By the time I fully regained my senses, my son had already been named — after St. Thomas. Why St. Thomas? How was this connected to my pregnancy, my delivery, or anything I stood for? I had never known the significance of July 3rd for Indian Christians until my son was b...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Curios Case of a Little Virus

No rain. I was lying malnourished and sick. Finally, it started raining, and soon there was water everywhere. They say I am a pluviophile because I love rain so much. When rain first mixes with dry soil, the smell it gives off—no perfume can beat that. I would splash myself in the roadside rainwater, my excitement never fading. I would play in the rainwater, follow its flow wherever it led me, and stop only when I couldn’t move any further. One day, while hopping in the rainwater, I slipped into a well. I cried loudly, but no one heard or saw me. It was dark inside. I feared there might be deadly creatures in the water, but before I could look around, I heard a chug-chug-chug sound and was suddenly sucked through a narrow pipe into a water tank. Soon, whoosh! I was pushed through another pipe and landed in a water can. Someone shouted, “Babu, fill the mineral water can!” A man quickly picked me up and poured me into the can. From there, I could see a small, busy bus stand. P...
Post a Comment
Read more