From the memoir: Journalist Lalita Iyer writes of the joys of ‘aloneness’

I used to love being a host. Setting the table, choosing the right colour palette, flowers, planning the menu, the sequence in which I would serve things, the music I would play. But maybe I loved the part after people left even more. Somewhere beneath all that activation energy, a quieter part of me always longed for silence.

The man I was married to loved having people over and when they came, they either drank so much that they didn’t eat the food (did I mention he specialised in cocktails?) or they never left.

Soon, I got tired of the man and the people. In the rest of my life as a single mom, hosting took on another dimension with play dates, sleepovers, birthday parties, and whatnot – all so that an only child could turn out to be socially well adjusted and have “friends”. I could not wait for this to be over. When my son turned 10, I announced I would not be hosting any more birthday parties and that was that. In the next two years, I also donated our Christmas tree and lights so that there was no room for temptation.

I now find even the idea of having people over tiring....

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