An NRIs Husband's Account

After years, it's finally over. Here's what nobody tells you about surviving a divorce:

A year ago, I couldn't write this post. I was too deep in it — court dates in the US and in India, two legal systems running on two different clocks, and a version of myself I barely recognized.

My divorce is now finalized.

I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing it because when I was in the middle of it, I searched for stories like mine and found almost nothing that felt honest. So, here's what I wish someone had told me:

Fighting a case across two countries adds a layer most people never have to think about : Different jurisdictions, different timelines, different rules — and no one tells you in advance how much coordination that demands, or how much patience it will cost you. If you are navigating this internationally, budget double the time and triple the patience you think you'll need. Still, in my experience, it's better than fighting a lone battle against the system in India. 

The weight of fighting two battles at once. Months of proceedings, financial strain, the emotional toll of watching a life you would built come apart in a courtroom rather than in private. But alongside it, there were civil and criminal cases against me — and that added its own weight entirely. I'll just say that carrying two open legal fronts at once tests you in ways that one alone doesn't. Every decision gets filtered through both. Every piece of good news comes with a mental asterisk. You learn to hold uncertainty in one hand and keep living your life with the other, because the alternative — waiting for both to resolve before you let yourself function — isn't really living at all.

It will take longer than you think, and that's not a reflection of your case's strength :

 I had to learn to separate "this is taking forever" from "this is going badly." They are not the same thing.

Your legal team matters more than you'll initially realize :

I learned, the hard way, that being a good advocate for yourself means being willing to question your own representation, ask hard questions, and change course when something isn't working. Silence and patience are not the same as trust.

Show up prepared, even when it feels pointless : 

There have been recent conversations about resolving the related matters between us, and I believe the work I put into documenting and presenting my side clearly played a part in getting to that point. You don't control the outcome. You do control how thoroughly you show up.

Your career and your identity don't have to be casualties: 

 I kept working, kept publishing, kept building — not because I didn't feel the weight of it, but because I refused to let one part of my life consume every part of it.

If you're in the middle of your own version of this right now: it ends. Not always the way you pictured, not always on your timeline, but it ends. And you get to decide who you are on the other side of it.

To anyone fighting their own battle across courtrooms and continents — you are not alone, and this is not the end of your story.

What actually got me through it, in case it helps someone else:

Faith. I leaned into being more spiritual than I'd ever been — quiet moments, chanting, prayer. It gave me a kind of calm that nothing else could.

People showing up. My family and friends carried me through this in ways I won't forget — from the oldest generation to the youngest, everyone prayed for me and stood by the decision. When I needed to arrange a one-time alimony payment, friends stepped up without hesitation. That kind of support is not something you can plan for. You just have to let people in.

Gratitude, chosen deliberately. I am aware of how many men in similar situations in India don't make it through — the suicide numbers are real, and they are devastating. I made a conscious choice, persistently, to feel grateful for my life instead of resenting it, and to fight for my future self and my family rather than give up on either.

A conversation that reframed everything. I had the chance to speak with Deepika ji, who has spent years documenting the struggles men go through in family courts across India. I was able to briefly share my own story with her and got some valuable insights early on. But what stayed with me were the gut-wrenching stories she shared — people navigating situations far more painful than mine. It was humbling. It reminded me that gratitude isn't something you feel once and move on from. It's something you have to keep choosing, especially when someone shows you how much worse things can get.

Music and writing. I picked up singing and started writing poems during this period. I needed somewhere to put the energy that the legal process couldn't absorb, and creativity gave me that outlet.

None of this made the process faster. But it made me someone who could still recognize himself at the end of it.

Lastly, I am immensely thankful to Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj and her team for being my voice and medium through which I can share my experience for others. 

Author : Mohit Sharma