You have just received that dreaded phone call. Your mother in law is arriving by the next train. Stop! Don't touch that Valium. It will wear off after 24 hours and she is visiting for a month. Instead follow a few basic survival skills....
1 Within a day of arriving, she has managed to turn the house upside down. The children (those traitors) are clinging to her like limpets, husband has regressed to infancy and wears a stupid grin on his face the whole day and the servant has a mutinous light in her eyes, which bodes no good. Stay calm- this is the time to enroll in the Yoga class, fruit preservation course, learn German in 4 weeks or go to the Spastics society and do voluntary work. That should get out for most of the day and keep the fights at bay.
2 Most mothers-in-law attack the cooking. They intuitively realise it is the Achilles hell of our armoury. We have her son and his sons but what we don't have is his taste buds cultivated in early childhood and memories of 'khichidi the way only Ma can make it'. This is a formidable weapon that mom-in-law has and she makes full use of it when she visits. 'My Subodh loves the way I cook bhindi...' she starts. This is you cue to give the bhindi and flee. Resist, and you will be impaled by the same bhindi at the dinner table. Ma-in-law will sniff as she deigns to eat that bhindi, your husband dare nor sniff at it for fear of his wife nor dare appreciate it for fear of his life. Makes for a terribly uncomfortable dinner. Believe me, it's better losing this battle and winning the war...
3 Another area the mum-in-law barges into with all the finesse of a rhinoceros is the 'children's upbringing'. You conceived them, you carried them and you delivered them through much pain. Surely, any human would recognise this achievement and regard this area as sacrosanct. Any human but Ma-in-law. She went through the same thing (and according to her did a far better job) so it is no big deal. She begins at the breakfast table on what is good for them. You have decided that cornflakes and a slice of papaya is the best nutritive balance, but she brought up hubby dear on fat aalu parathas floating in ghee. The children (turncoats!) who meekly ate cornflakes every day suddenly clamour for grandmother's parathas. Grit your teeth and make it. Feed them parathas for a month and they will be happy with cornflakes for the whole year. (Remember it is better to win the war than to win the battle...)
4 Now we come to that endangered species- the servant. Having ma-in-law on the scene is like having a poacher with a 12 bore shotgun aiming his sights at a tusker. There is something about the mother-in-law that upsets the delicate ecological balance. When she is not in sight, everything is in perfect harmony. But within a day of her arrival you are staring at extinction (of the servant species) in the face. The worst part is you are caught in the middle. Go into the kitchen and you hear a barrage of criticism against the "buddi" (as your servant cheekily refers to her), who orders her around. Go into the drawing room and hear a litany of abuse against the slipshod ways of the servant and veiled criticism of your judgement in hiring her. There is only one thing to do. Get those earplugs and change your hairstyle, so that your hair covers your ears. And yes, don't forget that vacuous smile...
5 Evenings are a torture ...from being the centre of your children/husband's universe, you are suddenly relegated to the painting on the wall. The children come home from school and home in to their grandmother like bullets from a gun, leaving you with arms outstretched and nothing to hold. This hurts and worse is yet to come. As soon you hear the car door slam, you make a move to the door. Too late-'she' is already posted there ready to greet her conquering hero. And he, the silly putty that she has reduced him to, meekly surrenders himself into her arms, while you watch and vainly hope something heavy falls on her. There is no point in chewing fingernails over this one. Take comfort in the fact and soothe yourself with
6 The days of lazily lying in bed in your husband's arms are just a mirage. With mother-in-law firmly entrenched in the house, the day begins at 6 a.m. with the loud ringing of the puja bell to shatter your peace and reproach you for lolling in bed. Even if you managed to drown out the bell, you just cannot shut out the powerful voice belting out prayers at full volume. It takes a person of sterner stuff to lie in bed through this religious assault. You rise filled with ungodly thoughts towards your mother-in-law. Don't take direct action (it could land you in hell, be warned!) Instead go to the puja room and pick up the flower basket and on the pretext of replenishing it, flee to the garden. As you inhale the early morning fragrance, you can expunge all thoughts of the monster within and chant with a look of piety and devotion, 'Just three more weeks and I'll be free...'
7 The TV too can be a bone of contention. You want to watch the sizzling scenes on 'Bold and Beautiful'; they have just reached the part where they are about to fall in bed and make passionate love and you have been dying to see it. Enter ma-in-law. Without so much as your leave, she picks up the remote and zaps to SUN TV. For the next hour you fume as your home is filled with the noise of high Tamil drama. No, don't touch the remote (you might succumb to that urge to hit her on the head with it). Announce non-challantly, you are going to buy veggies and disappear to your friendly neighbour to watch that scene. Far better to steam in your neighbour's house than to steam in your own...
8 And finally the day of her departure dawns. 30 days of rigorous imprisonment are finally over. So what if by now, you are not talking to your husband, you harbour un-motherly feelings towards your children, your neighbour is fed up with your early morning visits, your garden has not one flower in it and your maid has a Rs. 200 bonus for just being able to take a large dose of mum-in-law. You survived and the next time you'll be ready.
Nimmou Nilakantan
(1227 words)
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