I was called ‘damaged goods’ – it took me two decades and two marriages to know my worth – eShe

By Anagha Kawley

Once upon a time, I was told by my second husband that I was damaged goods. That day was the turning point in my life. Until that day, I believed that a woman’s value depended on how perfectly she fulfilled everyone else’s expectations – as a wife, daughter and mother.

At every step, everyone around me made me aware that a second marriage was my chance to do the right thing. I did exactly that. I tried my best to be a good wife, and I believed that love and compromise could conquer everything.

In my second marriage, I let myself be treated like a piece of dirt every day, but it still did not work out. My second husband walked out, leaving me with our barely two-year-old daughter alone in New Zealand. He migrated to Australia. Just like a good wife would do, I kept on pursuing him to take us to Australia or for him to return to us.

Then he told me that I was damaged goods and no one would accept me. That day, I decided to treat myself better. It dawned on me that I loved myself and loved my children more. I had to use the freedom that was suddenly given to me to reshape my life.

It took me two decades and two marriages to know my worth as a woman and as a person.

Woman on fire

My first marriage back in India literally went up in flames. On 10 November 1989, I experienced loss for the first time. That night, I was involved in an accident which resulted in me sustaining burns over 65 percent of my body, including third-degree burns. I don’t have clear answers as to how I got burnt. All I remember is being in the kitchen, in a corner, attempting to light the stove to heat dinner.

My first ex-husband and I were arguing because I had planned to leave him the next day. My bag was packed and ready, and I mentioned that I intended to take our 11-month-old son with me. The specifics of how the fire started remain hazy in my memory. I recall being suddenly engulfed in flames, possibly screaming for help, though all I could perceive at that moment was the crackling of the fire.

In reality, fire itself doesn’t make a sound – instead, it’s what’s burning that creates the noise. I was listening to the horrific sound of my own body being consumed by the flames. When I saw my infant son crawling towards me, I remember grabbing a heavy brass container and pouring water on myself.

Then, everything went black as I collapsed, striking my head on something, and losing consciousness. Did I lose portions of my memory as a result of the head injury, or was it due to the physical and psychological trauma of the burns? No one took the time to investigate.

Then came the divorce, which led to the dissolution of my marriage, losing custody of my 13-month-old son, as well as my physical and emotional confidence to carry on. I also lost a sense of belonging in society at that time. It took me months to recover from the burn injuries. When I finally left that marriage, I carried not just physical scars but the invisible ones.

Second chance to do it right?

After my first divorce, I completed a Bachelor’s degree in law from Nagpur and started work under a senior lawyer. I struggled, but I tried my best to survive as a single woman. During that time, I learnt that it’s a myth that women are weak. Actually, women are strong, and society still struggles to accept a single woman. Unfortunately, women work against women sometimes. We women need to be supportive of one another.

The everyday struggle of proving my worth took a toll on my physical and mental health. Finally, I gave in to my parents’ pressure to remarry. They always told me that  I made the mistake of choosing the wrong guy when I married my first husband. They assured me they have found me “an ideal” second husband. I fought against migrating to another country, but my parents were adamant.

This time, I got married to a man settled in New Zealand. I wanted to believe that life was giving me a second chance, that I could finally build a home. But within a week of reaching New Zealand, he told me that our marriage was a sham. He married me to get the custody of his daughter from his previous marriage. The family court wanted to see that he could provide her with a secure family life.

He also made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to have children! But my mother-in-law wanted another grandchild. When they found out that I was going to have a daughter, they pressured me to abort it. I didn’t. I think that’s when my marriage started to crack. Within one and half year from that point, he left me and my daughter in New Zealand and moved to Australia.

Freedom

Starting over in a foreign country as a single mother was terrifying. I had to find work, care for my daughter, and navigate a system that, luckily, didn’t pity me. I didn’t know anyone. I had no family and friends. This was how my life was. I have seen the poverty and kindness of the local people, which lifted my spirits and motivated me to keep going.

Hard work does pay off. Not only have I built my career in New Zealand, but I also own a small career consultancy and employ women (of all ethnicities) to support people through their work transition.

After 18 years, I located my son and met him again. He was no longer the little boy I’d last seen; he was a grown man. And he accepted me back into his life.

Being a woman

When I look back, I realise how deeply culture conditions women to measure themselves by their relationships. We are daughters until we become wives, wives until we become mothers, and mothers until we disappear into everyone else’s needs. Somewhere in between, our individuality gets erased.

My life has defied every cultural expectation placed upon me. I had to lose everything twice to learn that my worth isn’t tied to anyone’s approval. I am not defined by who left me, but by who I became afterwards.

To every woman who has been called “too emotional”, “too independent”, or “too much”, I want to say this: the world is too small for your fire.

Women are creators of life. The only thing we need is faith in ourselves. We must never apologise for who we are, what we want, or what we’re capable of. Every apology chips away at our worth!

Healing is not about forgetting what happened. It’s about choosing to live fully despite it. I still carry scars from the fire; they are part of my story. But I no longer hide them. They remind me that I have already survived the worst.

Anagha Kawley is the New Zealand-based author of the autobiographical novel Damaged Goods (2025)