Twenty years ago, after an amicable separation, I became my son’s legal custodian. Despite having primary custody, often when I would tell a stranger that I am a divorced father, the first question would be, “Oh, do you still (get to) see him?” That question captured, in a nutshell, the experience of being a single father in the Nineties. In cases of children of divorce, the assumption was always that they have an absentee father and a cant-help-but-be-nurturing mother.AdvertisementIn the two decades that have passed, I have become an empty nester, and society’s notions of parenthood have evolved. So, this is a vintage tale that can perhaps help map the distance we have covered as a society.At the time that I was raising my son, there were many “single mothers” meetings and groups around. Not so much for single fathers. It was an intimidating experience. Through it all, I had several pillars to lean on. For him, my and my ex-wife’s philosophy followed that of Bob Dylan’s: “Husband and wife failed, but mother and father didn’t.” That was the goal. His mother, her family and mine, all came together to give him a childhood where he was not left wanting for anything.I had no structured “parenting philosophy”. The idea was simple: “Keep him honest and ensure he enjoys himself.” A normal childhood, filled with adventure and love. In that spirit, growing up, I encouraged him to dabble in a bit of everything: He did drama, played sports, read books and fought me on the many ideas he found in them. For us, music and two cats, Thunder and Lightning, became the points of connection. I introduced him to songs of my generation and over the years, as he grew up, our conversations on music spanned far and wide. Today, as he teaches music in New York, our connection stretches over thousands of miles.AdvertisementI always ensured that I was open with him — totally, completely honest. Hopefully, that encouraged him to strive to be an honest man himself. His mother and I had no strict legal guidelines on the number of visits; the rule was simple: He should have access to all members of his family, at all times. Through it all, what anchored him, and me, was community.most readAlso Read | My father-in-law raised two sons after a tragedy. This is what he taught usAt eight, while figuring out a new, atypical family setup and his place in it, he was surrounded by a group of five-six friends who made sure love, joy and companionship were part of the equation. To this date, he keeps them close. For me, their parents were a saving grace. They never let my son or me feel out of place — the ways in which that allowed me to parent well and allowed my son to flourish are innumerable. They became, in a way, a shield against a world that could sometimes not be understanding or kind. This community — these friends and the family, both mine and my ex-wife’s — ensured that my child was raised to become a well-rounded man.In the last two decades, at least in upper-middle-class homes, the needle has moved. While my son was growing up, only parents were allowed at school functions. Recently, speaking to a school administrator about how crowds at these events have inflated, I was met with a joking, “arey, nowadays every child has two fathers, two mothers.” The stigma around divorce and single fatherhood seems like it’s abating. Opportunities for building community have expanded, as has the definition of “family”.In having raised my son as a single father, I do not have much to offer by way of lessons learnt. But a surefire way of ensuring healthier, happier children and families to me is to address the misogyny. Women still get blamed for divorces while having higher expectations of parenting placed on them and men are still, in many circles, expected to be the ones having washed their hands of the duty. For me, that was never an option. Ultimately, it was my wife and community’s support and generosity that made sure my son and I stayed afloat.The writer is a retired professor, University of Delhi