One is the happiest number More than ever before, people across the world are opting to live alone, shrugging off loneliness in favour of independence. speaks to some of these contented singletons and finds out how living alone can give rise to not only some unusual habits, but also peace of mind

One is the happiest number

More than ever before, people across the world are opting to live alone, shrugging off loneliness in favour of independence.  speaks to some of these contented singletons and finds out how living alone can give rise to not only some unusual habits, but also peace of mind

Living alone? Oh, says your audience, you mean with a roommate? No, no, it’s just me, you explain. A baffled silence ensues. Are you…looking for a roommate? They ask uncertainly. Maybe…you’ll want to live-in with a girlfriend? No, you say. I like living alone. It suits me. But when you get married, they yowl triumphantly, and then you’ll have to change this, won’t you? I don’t know, maybe, you say defensively, before quickly retreating back into your company-free apartment. It’s a startling trend in human history that runs counter to all claims of ‘connectivity’ that we love to proclaim. Over the last half-century, more and more people are choosing to live alone, away from their family or special someones. According to a study done by market research firm Euromonitor International, the number of people living alone has risen from 153 million in 1996 to 277 million in 2011. The nations with the fastest growth in one-person households are China, Brazil and India. In India’s urban centres, more and more people are opting to stay away from family for either personal or professional reasons. It’s a sea change for a country where the ‘joint family’ was, until a few decades ago, an accepted social norm. So how does this new phenomenon affect our personalities, temperaments and social lives? Is the solitary tenant or home-owner more unsociable or lonelier than those living with company? What do they even do, living alone? Aren’t they kind of…weird? Popular culture abounds with examples of solitary dwellers whose apartments have become a Petri dish for various eccentricities. Kramer, the neighbor on popular TV show Seinfeld, abandons the idea of furniture in favour of having ‘levels’ instead, arranging his apartment’s floors in a stair-like arrangement. On Friends, Monica and Rachel live above Mr Heckles — a curmudgeonly old man who complains constantly of non-existent noise, and after his death, is found out to have been a hoarder of epic proportions. While not reaching those levels quite yet, the single occupancy house can give rise to some idiosyncrasies. With nobody to judge, who’s to know or care that you stayed up till 4am on a weeknight watching reruns of The Bold and the Beautiful? Or that there’s a bottle of what started out as garlic paste at the back of your fridge, but six months after its expiry date, has turned into something you’re afraid of touching in case it attacks? Parmesh Jain, 37, has been living alone for the last sixteen years, even since he graduated from college and moved from Jaipur to Mumbai for a job in public relations. Parmesh chose to live alone because he could afford it, and stuck to it because “after six months, the loneliness wore off and I saw a succession of friendships torn apart because of the petty differences that spring up while living together.” He admits that living alone has given rise to some ‘unusual’ behaviour, such as using his laundry basket as a clothes wardrobe (“It’s easier to just skip the step of transferring clean clothes to the shelves and then taking them from there,” he explains shamefacedly) and working his way through several packets of Parle-G biscuits a day as and when he feels hungry, instead of having three meals a day. For Parmesh, the best thing about living alone would have to be “listening to metal music very loudly for hours every night. It’s not the kind of music everyone would appreciate.” One habit he had to curb, however, was his forgetfulness. “Once I forgot to pay the electricity bill for several months in a row — and only when the electricity company cut me off did I wake up to the pile of bills on my table!” “I had lived with a large family back home. It was so freeing to leave my stuff anywhere, knowing that one of my brothers wouldn’t mess around with it or try to break it or whatever,” he laughs. So, the big question: does he get lonely living alone? Has living alone turned him into a social misanthrope incapable of functional relationships? “God, no,” Jain laughs. “In fact, I have a more vibrant social life than some of my married friends or those who have roommates, because I know I have to create my own entertainment if I want to keep myself occupied.” Parul Majumdar, 32, is a marketing profession who has been living alone for the last six years since a short-lived marriage. She says that the freedom she most enjoys is avoiding the ‘how was your day’ conversation. “After I get home from a long day at work, all I really want is to kick back with a cooling drink, and when you have company, you’re at the mercy of their moods and inclinations. I fully, unapologetically enjoy being as selfish as I want when I’m at home. I’ve been dating someone for the past three years, but from a safe distance — which is probably why the relationship is going so well!” Parul admits that her “lack of self-control” is something she had to work at. “Left to my own devices, I grew really untidy. It took months of slow realisation that nobody was going to pick up after me, and that the peace of coming home to a clean house was worth a 15-minute cleanup every morning.” Tejas Kale, 26, is a graphic designer in Pune, who after a year of living alone, has taken to waking up at 7am, eating breakfast and reading the day’s news, and then falling back asleep till lunchtime. For Smriti Jayal, 29 — who lives alone because she enjoys the independence and alone time — the best part of living alone is “having the bathroom to myself. I take 45-minute long baths and sing loudly and terribly.” The great contradiction of our time is that even though we are more ‘connected’ than ever, we are increasingly isolated from those in our immediate environment, often by choice. “I can call or send you a text; if that fails, and I am especially persistent, I can send you an email or ping you on an instant messaging service,” explains Parul. “If you continue to ignore me with admirable dedication, I can Tweet you or write something on your Facebook wall. In a world like this, my apartment — safe behind a locked door — is the last remaining sanctuary.”