New Delhi: Many of Garima Mehta’s videos open with a tantalising tagline: “Dear diary, here’s my day in a sarkari ghar.” An Army officer’s wife, she posts about making chai for her husband, her breakfast chia-coconut pudding, her decorating sprees. The peg is a peek into a closely guarded world, but it’s also a business strategy for her health start-up. Mehta is part of a growing tribe of Army wives turning their lives online into both career and passion.
The hashtags FaujiWife and SarkariGhar now trend regularly on Instagram. One search pulls up hundreds of reels giving glimpses into the lives of Army wives—from magical makeovers of government quarters to party outfits like a “cadmium yellow chiffon sari”, to fleeting, blurry glimpses of the buzz-cut soldier husband.
“Some of my clients have also approached me after watching some of my reels, where I post the food I eat. It helps when they can see what the nutritionist is eating herself. But the page is still a passion project,” said Mehta, the picture of poise in her white waistcoat with gold buttons paired with black formal pants. She started her page only last year and already has over 32,000 followers.
Content creators like her are leveraging the intense public curiosity about cantonment life to build audiences and earning opportunities. It’s all carefully curated and security guidelines limit how much can be shown, but the ‘Army wife lifestyle’ is a hook that many can’t get enough of, from the sarees and pearls of the 80s and 90s to trendy dresses of today.
For decades, the army wife was seen but not heard. A flash of a coiffed hairdo at a ribbon-cutting, a poised smile at a polo match, a background presence at events like Republic Day. Their day-to-day private lives were generally a mystery.
Bollywood films such as Border, LOC: Kargil, and Uri: The Surgical Strike have overwhelmingly imagined them as the brave, resilient partner, always waiting while the man went off to war. A more authentic view came from memoirs such as Aditi Mathur Kumar’s Soldier & Spice and Jyoti Barmola Mamgain’s Drills, Thrills and Spills, with their accounts of Army wife hierarchies and etiquette, but it’s on social platforms where a bigger change is afoot. More women are making it clear that ‘Army wife’ isn’t their full-time designation.
We too used to set up homes and create decor items, but we only showed to each other at the cantonment. Now young wives are turning staple fauji wife moments, from dressing up for coffee meets to parties, into content — and kudos to them
Bratati Dey, entrepreneur and a brigadier’s wife
Mehta’s posts give her health start-up and nutritionist career visibility, Amrita Solanki earns through YouTube, Karuna Choudhary does brand collabs, and Sonali Singh Rawat Rana uses reels to promote her growing sari business. Even older wives are branching out. Bratati Dey, a brigadier’s wife, who founded the soft-skills firm Soul Coach, uses SEO and LinkedIn to build her clientele.
“Since I got married in the 90s to even now, BEd is still the fail-safe back-up option for Army wives. But with technology and just an internet connection, they can choose from a variety of career options now,” said Dey.
Actor Celina Jaitly Haag, whose mother and grandmother were both Army wives, pointed out that many spouses have always been accomplished in their own right—her mother had a doctorate in psychology—but chose “a life of sacrifice over personal ambition.” The difference now is that social media has made it easier to juggle the demands of family and “ceremonials” with other pursuits.
“This evolution fills me with pride,” Jaitley said. “They are running businesses, sharing stories, advocating causes, and building communities visible to the world in real time. They are breaking stereotypes, showing that an Army wife can be both a pillar of strength at home and a dynamic entrepreneur or creator online, all while navigating the demands of service life.”
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Parties, passions, pashminas
Back in 2019, Amrita Solanki was on the lookout for ideas to host the picture-perfect DIY first birthday party for her child. There was nothing useful online, so after figuring it all out herself—from drinks in twee mason jars to a peach-coloured dress code—she posted her own how-to on YouTube.
Married in 2013, Solanki, a former Life Sciences professor, had done a BEd, as was the Army wife’s unspoken rule, but knew she didn’t want to teach. So she began filming on a basic smartphone and posting travel vlogs and daily routines to YouTube and Instagram.
“There was no planning of what I would upload. I started with posting about how to host a birthday party, then made a few travel vlogs. But eventually, I decided to show the accommodation, and how I set it up. That got me a lot of views,” said Solanki, who is now living in Manipur. A 2023 reel on her sarkari house and settling in, has 2.9 million views.
Another reel moves from a cosy living room with cane furniture and mood lighting to boxes packed up for the next transfer. She muses just when a house starts to feel like home, it’s time to move again. One comment reads: “I had tears in my eyes while watching your Assam wala ghar video.” It has more than 6 lakh views.
“If I could post more consistently, I’d be earning a decent amount,” said Solanki, who has over 42,000 followers on YouTube. “But my younger child is four, and between housework and Army wife duties, I am often lagging behind. The ones who do it regularly are really making a name for themselves.”
It’s not just home tours that are getting engagement. Civilians are curious about how fauji families live, what they eat, how they spend their time. Creators receive DMs asking for recipes, product links, and often, emotional messages.
[My husband] was initially not very enthusiastic, but now, he will share his recommendations about certain corners of the house, or a new bedspread that might look good on my vlog
-Garima Mehta, nutritionist and Army officer’s wife
“I have been genuinely surprised by messages from housewives who say that they look at my vlogs, and also feel like dressing up, grooming, for themselves,” said Mehta, a certified dietician juggling a PhD and a wellness start-up. “You never know who’s looking up to your content.”
Mehta began vlogging in October 2024 with her now-familiar line: “Dear diary, this is my day in a sarkari ghar.”
Delicately nibbling at blueberry pastry at the JW Marriott coffee shop in Pune, she said her husband too occasionally helps out with her vlogs.
“He was initially not very enthusiastic, but now, he will share his recommendations about certain corners of the house, or a new bedspread that might look good on my vlog. But otherwise, it’s me and my selfie camera,” she added with a smile.
From broccoli-almond ramen to guava tea, she documents her colourful and healthy daily meals. Then there are outfit changes for both casual outings and formal events, moments with her three-year-old daughter, and more personal videos about how she chooses to be happy. She also uses a fair bit of humour, whether it’s about sharing space with lizards or oyster mushrooms that “smell like shit”. Many of her reels have over half a million views.
Her followers constantly comment on her aesthetic home, ask for her healthy recipes, and often defend her if someone writes a snarky comment about sarkari life being an easy one.
Watching other wives post content has also become a way of building community. Some take notes. Others get inspired to start channels or pursue a career through social media.
For Karuna Choudhary, content creation began with her dreamy wedding to her college boyfriend, now an Army officer. A former corporate lawyer, the 28-year-old started sharing reels of herself walking the streets of Jaipur or Mumbai, flaunting gorgeous handloom saris or traditional Rajasthani attire. Soon, brand collaborations started pouring in.
She’s currently living with her in-laws, as her husband is on a field posting where spouses aren’t allowed. Content creation is her way of preparing for the time she can join her husband.
“I was anyway tired of the corporate grind, and for me, being able to live with my partner is important. So being a digital creator seemed like the perfect solution,” said Choudhary, who has nearly 48,000 followers on Instagram.
On occasion, she pulls her husband into ‘couple content’ such as holding hands or playing Holi. But it’s mostly about styling ethnic looks for her growing audience.
This kind of content aligns with the public image of Army wives being paragons of elegance. Except that what used to be just part of protocol is now their brand identity.
Brand-building at border posts
Sonali Singh Rawat Rana was once painting daisies on her saree for a small Diwali celebration when a friend spotted it and immediately clamoured for one for her wedding. Rana, a NIFT graduate weighing her next career move, obliged. Word spread about her hand-painted florals, and orders began pouring in from friends and family.
“Everyone was on Instagram during Covid, and I had shared a few photos. It quickly picked up. There was no marketing as such. Soon, So.Si.Ra, the brand was born,” said Rana.
In wedding season, the orders increase, and I have to balance the events at the cantonment or with my family. But being in the Army means you get a list of events much ahead of time, and you can plan accordingly. Expectations have also changed compared to when my own mother was a young fauji wife
-Sonali Singh Rawat Rana, owner of a sari business and Army wife
A fauji kid who became a fauji wife, Rana kept the business going through her husband’s postings in border towns and remote villages. Her mother, Sarla Rawat, joined in, taking charge of sourcing fabrics and logistics while Rana focused on the creative aspects. Their signature saris now travel well beyond the cantonment gates.
“It involves lots of calls, checking inventory, working out finances, getting raw materials and packaging ready, and managing everything in between. But it all works out if I stay organised and chart everything in a timely manner. My professional experience certainly makes things easier,” said Sarla Rawat, who was a school teacher.
What began with five sarees has grown to 25-30 pieces a month, with work now also outsourced to other artists. Her brand is now listed on Local Nation, a site promoting women-led businesses, and has its own website as well. Her next dream: opening a physical store in Chandigarh.
“In wedding season, the orders increase, and I have to balance the events at the cantonment or with my family. But being in the Army means you get a list of events much ahead of time, and you can plan accordingly,” said Rana. “Expectations have also changed compared to when my own mother was a young fauji wife.”
Minding manners as a skillset
At an official accommodation in Delhi’s Defence Officers’ Enclave, Bratati Dey sits on a sofa and fields calls for corporate soft-skills training. Few are more accomplished than military wives when it comes to grace, decorum, and minding Ps and Qs — and now this too offers a career avenue.
In her 50s, Dey enjoys the freedom of setting her own schedule. Digital literacy and social media have finally given her the opportunity to create a brand-new professional profile.
Dey started out as a teacher, moving from one cantonment to the next, packing and unpacking her career with every posting. Being a teacher was often the only available option: it gave wives time to manage the household and raise children while the husband was posted away.
In 2016, she decided she’d had enough of the cycle of quitting her job and looking for a new one every time her husband was transferred.
“We were in Delhi, and I decided to try something else. I did a certificate course, got my venture registered, and during lockdown, I slowly started getting in calls, enquiring about soft skills training,” said Dey. The former teacher helps students prepare for corporate jobs, through sessions related to communication, group discussions, and spoken English.
Since then, she has delivered more than 300 live workshops in colleges across India and manages a core team of five, along with empanelled trainers in Delhi, Pune, Kolkata and Bengaluru.
Dey pointed out that officers’ wives have an advantage when it comes to pivoting and building brands. Flexibility is a survival skill most of them have honed.
“As an officer’s wife you basically oscillate between living like a queen to your life being fit into boxes,” said Dey.
But it’s not just officers’ wives. The mending of the digital divide has started to benefit jawans’ spouses too.
Welfare goes digital
Pickles, cloth bags, candles, Diwali Melas. For decades, that was what the Army Wives Welfare Association (AWWA)— set up in 1966 to support soldiers’ families — was best known for in terms of earning opportunities.
“All officers’ wives are part of the AWWA, and when my husband was a commanding officer of a unit, I too introduced welfare measures like candle-making, which would help jawans’ wives not just learn the skill, but also sell them,” said Dey.
But with digitisation and the social-media boom, AWWA has moved from handicrafts to digital skills. It’s teaching jawans’ wives computer literacy, online marketing, even how to make reels.
“AWWA now has courses on digital marketing, making videos and reels, and now anyone can also share their products on social media, or via WhatsApp groups,” said Dey.
It took until 2020 for the association to launch its website. But once it did, the scope widened. Army wives can now register services ranging from tutoring to dance or drama classes, and make them available across the community.
For jawans’ wives, this has helped open up new potential income streams, supplementing family earnings and giving them a chance to be more self-sufficient. On Instagram, there are now several profiles by jawans’ wives, like ‘jawan_wife’, with 33,000 followers, showing glimpses of a Kashmir posting, and ‘godavari_ammay_satya’, with proud shots of her husband in uniform.
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Breaking rank
About 10 years ago, a major’s wife alleged that she and her husband were ‘insulted’ for not taking part in rehearsals for an AWWA fashion show being organised for a senior officer’s spouse. Her letter went viral and started a conversation on how rigid the pecking order could be. That mindset is changing.
The new generation of Army wives is relaxing the rules one baby step at a time. They don’t necessarily play along with expectations such as waiting at dinners until the chief guest — usually the senior-most officer’s spouse — chooses to leave. Younger women now take photos, put in a ‘respectable’ hour, and head home if they must. The older guard might frown but protocols are slowly evolving with the times.
Wives now make travel reels from remote postings—all carefully curated so as to not give sensitive details away. Dressed in the latest fashion and speaking candidly about their experiences, they are humanising Army life.
For many couples, double incomes are now the norm, and digital content creation makes a career possible even in the most isolated stations. It can also be their only respite in an otherwise regimented life.
Not everyone, however, wants to balance Army-wife duties and ambition. Some choose to stay in cities to pursue steady corporate jobs or businesses.
“As a fauji wife, if you want your career to excel, you have to choose long-distance marriage because travelling with your husband means attending parties, setting up welfare events, and following certain expectations. It is not always easy to manage that lifestyle with a full-fledged corporate career,” said a wife who did not wish to be named. “Sometimes, the rules and expectations can also feel stifling.”
But to Dey, there’s a sea change from the time when she was a new Army wife, and she welcomes it.
“We too used to set up homes and create decor items, but we only showed to each other at the cantonment. Now young wives are turning staple fauji wife moments, from dressing up for coffee meets to parties, into content — and kudos to them,” she said. “This would never have been possible earlier.”
(Edited by Asavari Singh)
There’s a much more apt hashtag for such buffoonery – #PatiFaujMainBiwiMaujMain.