Dr. Gangadhara Gadgil
Translated by the author from original Marathi
I do not know how things stand today in this
matter of daughters-in-law. But when I was a boy every elderly woman of my
Grandma’s age had one or more daughters-in-law of her own. Why, auntie
Bhagirathi had no less than four daughters-in-law of her own. Why, auntie
Bhagirathi had no less than four daughters-in-law of her own. I don’t know why
but she never called them by their names. Instead she called one the older one
and called another the younger one. She also used to speak of the in between
one. The trouble was that there were in-between and she always found it
difficult to identify the particular in-between daughter-in-law she was speaking
about. My grandma suggested that things would be easy for all concerned if
auntie Bhagirathi identified her daughters-in-law by their names. But somehow
auntie Bhagirathi never got round to doing so. May be she couldn’t remember
their names or it could be that she did not approve of the fact that creatures
like daughters-in-law, who constituted the lowest rungs in the ladder of family
hierarchy, should have names of their own.
Well! Not all elderly women were so fortunate
as to have four daughters-in-law of their own. But most of them did have two or
atleast one daughter-in-law. Well, come to think of it not everybody was that
lucky. Poor Yamuna auntie had seven daughters and not a single son. My Grandma
often wondered what sins Yamuna auntie had committed in her previous birth to
invite this misfortune on her head in this present birth of hers; Yamuna auntie
however, blamed her misfortune squarely on her daughters. They were so perverse
that everyone of all the seven of them insisted on being girls. She often
cried, “They are none other than enemies in my previous birth, who have taken
birth as many daughters to wreak vengeance on me. They will not rest until they
ruin their parents completely”. Although I was merely a boy who was not allowed
to pass opinions on the affairs of my elders, I in my heart tended to agree
with Yamuna auntie. There was really no reason for Yamuna auntie’s all seven
daughters to be daughters. It would have done them no harm if three or even
four of them had been born as sons. But I as a boy knew that girls are by
nature perverse and stubborn. One could do absolutely nothing about it.
Anyway, let us not get drawn into a
discussion of the perversity of girls about which I have a good deal to say. It
was daughters-in-law that I was talking about and, as I said, most of my
Grandma’s friends had atleast one or more of them. And each one of them proudly
brought her new daughter-in-law along when she called on my Grandma who blessed
her and asked her own daughters-in-law to give the girls the customary
presents. This was the privilege of my auntie who was older than my mother. She
came out of the interior of the house carrying in a silver plate heaped up
rice, a coconut and a piece of cloth. The daughter-in-law again bent low and
bowed to my auntie who then gave these presents to her with appropriate
ceremony. My mother made her appearance at his juncture to participate in the
proceedings. On noticing her the daughter-in-law again bowed low to her and was
appropriately blessed. Sometimes other women, who were next door neighbors,
also dropped in to see this new daughter-in-law and she bent low and bowed to
each of them separately. I used to be amazed then, at the capacity of these
daughters-in-law to bow so many times, without, spraining their backs or
breaking them altogether.
After having bowed umpteen times to all the
assembled women, the daughter-in-law would stand in a corner with bent head
trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. This convinced my grandma and other
elderly women that the girl had a proper upbringing and the virtue of obedience
had been instilled into her. My Grandma then would invite her to sit down. But
the girl would keep standing and bend her head even lower to show respect. That
little gesture would satisfy her mother-in-law that the girl knew her place in
the scheme of things and she would gruffly ask her to be seated. The
daughter-in-law would then squat putting her arms around her knees and pulling
them up close to her breast. She would then rest her chin on her knees and her
face would become almost invisible as was demanded by requirements of modesty.
My Grandma then would make conventional conversation and ask the girl about her
parents or about the number of brothers and sisters she had. The daughter-in-law
would look demurely at her mother-in-law to seek permission and when it was granted with a nod she would
reply to my grandma’s question in a voice so low that one wondered whether it
was audible even to her knees. Her mother-in-law would then scold her and say,
“Speak a little loudly, will you? What you say has to be audible, isn’t it?”
The girl was no fool. She raised her voice
just a wee bit I wondered whether that made it more audible to my grandma. I,
for one, didn’t catch even a word of what she said.
How could I, when I watched these proceedings
from an adjoining room peering surreptitiously, through a chink in the door? I
would have loved to watch them at close quarters. But if ever I tried to enter
that room, my grandma shooed me away saying, “What are you a man doing here
admidst women. Be gone”.
After my Grandma and other elderly women had
asked the girl, a few questions, the girl was asked to utter the name of her
husband.
On hearing this the girl would shudder and
blush profusely and hide her face behind her knees. This would tickle and amuse
the elderly women and they broke into broad smiles. My mother and auntie being
younger would smile more discreetly. The girl was then cajoled over and over
again to utter the name of her husband. She would then blush profusely and that
would cause a lot of merriment in the assembled women folk. Eventually, the
mother-in-law would mildly admonish the girl and ask her to stop blushing and
do what she was told to do.
In those good old days of obedient respectful
and devoted wives, custom didn’t allow women to utter the names of their
husbands. If a woman wanted to talk to her husband, she would call him by name.
She would ask demurely, “Am I being heard?” The husband would then turn around
and say, ‘What is it? Out with it. Don’t you see I am in a hurry?”
It was only the young bride, who had the
privilege of uttering the name of her husband, when called upon to do so by the
elders in the family. This was no easy task, for the name of the husband had to
be woven into a four line verse which was expected to be laudatory and
entertaining. The bride had to have quite a stock of them. Happily her mother
and aunts composed quite a few of them for her and made her learn them by
heart.
Ultimately after a lot of blushing the
daughter-in-law recited the verse with her husband’s name woven into it and was
duly complimented by the assembled women.
However, seated as I was in the adjoining
room, what the daughter-in-law said never reached my ears. How could it, when
she talked in such a low whisper?
That, used to annoy me terribly and I always
wondered why marriage had such a deleterious effect on the vocal cords of
girls. I know for certain that before they got married, girls had strong voices
that would be raucous and shrill and they often were exactly that. But marriage
did strange things to their throats. Overnight their voices sank into almost
inaudible whisphers and they couldn’t swallow not only big laddus but even tea.
Take for instance the case of Kamal who used to
live next door. That girl screamed and shrieked so loudly when she played with
other girls that on hearing her babies woke up with a start and frightened
women dropped the brass cooking pots in their hands. That made her mother lose
her temper and she would yell, ‘Why must you scream like a banshee every time
you play? Has somebody shoved a pounding rod down’ your throat?
I for one had no doubt that Kamal’s mother’s
suspicions were well founded. That was because only a girl with an abnormally
enlarged throat could have swallowed a big laddu as quickly and effortlessly as
Kamal did. Why I could barely dig my teeth into a laddu before hers vanished
down her capacious throat.
Yet I found this self same Kamal unbelievably
transformed when she visited us after she was married. She was barely audible
when she spoke and her bite into a laddu was no bigger than the peck of a
sparrow. I suspected that the girl was gravely ill. But to my surprise my
mother thought that marriage had done her a lot of good.
But that is another story. As far as
daughters-in-law in general were concerned, I had a good opinion of that
species. They appeared to me well behaved respectful and obedient. But I was
totally disillusioned on that score in the next Diwali vacation. It so happened
that being preoccupied with sharpening my skills in playing with marbles and
scoring hits with my catapult, I had rather neglected my lessons and had
performed somewhat poorly in the half yearly examination. Mothers being what
they are, my mother stopped me altogether from going out and playing with my
friends in the neighbourhood yard. Instead she made me spend my whole day along
in a room doing my lessons.
Luckily for me my grandma used to rest and
meet her many cronies in the adjoining room. I could therefore relieve the
tedium of long hours of study by listening to their talk. Mind you, although I
heard their gossip, I didn’t neglect my lessons, I had my eyes dutifully
riveted on my books and I memorized loudly whatever I had learnt.
I was learning then the geography of Mumbai
and had to memorize the various routes of the tramcars. In the course of the
study I would chant. “Tramcar no. 8 starts from Opera House and stops at
Portuguese Church, Thakurdwar, Chira Bazaar, Dhobi Talao, Esplanade and reaches
Flora Fountain in final stop”.
It was while I diligently memorized the
routes of tramcars in this manner that I learnt from the talk in the adjoining
room how difficult and troublesome these innocent looking daughters-in-law
could be and how they were a pain in the neck to their poor suffering
mothers-in-law.
Take for instance the daughters-in-law of
Radha auntie. She looked so innocent that it seemed to be beyond her even to
hurt a fly. Yet that girl, it seemed, was nothing less than a domestic disaster
and Radha auntie had to keep a close watch on her all the time to save her
family from starvation and penury. She, it seemed, was a great
spendthrift if ever there was one and left to herself would have spent all the salary of her husband and her father-in-law
in barely the first two weeks of the month leaving nothing at all to spend in
the remaining two weeks. If she was asked to fry chaklis, she poured oil in the
frying pan until it was filled to the very brim. Very little of that oil was
used up by the frying chaklis and the daughter-in-law poured all the rest of it
down the drain. Poor Radha auntie’s heart raced pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat
when she saw her daughter-in-law do that. If she was asked to cook two measures
of rice, she ended up, cooking at least three measures of rice, if not more. So
a lot of rice was left over every day. And do you know what she did with that large quantity of rice that was
left over? She generously gave it away all to the maid servant. Radha auntie
almost swooned when she saw her do that. Thereafter Radha auntie kept her eyes
peeled whenever she asked her daughter-in-law to cook a meal. That spend-thrift
girl would use up a cake of washing soap in three days, while Radha auntie
could make it last for as long as two weeks. When asked to give the customary
present of a coconut and a blouse-piece to a visiting young bride, this
daughter-in-law gave away the biggest coconut in the house along with a blouse
piece decorated with gold thread.
That was absolutely the limit. Poor Radha
auntie saw penury standing on the threshold of her house and staring in her
face.
No wonder Radha auntie lost her temper and
screamed, “Plague on you, girl! Do you think that your father-in-law is a
millionaire to afford this kind of profligacy? Do you want all of us to stand
in the street with begging bowls in our hands?”
A decent daughter-in-law would have been
contrite and catching both her ears in acknowledgement of her guilt would have
assured her mother-in-law to mend her ways. But do you know what this girl did?
She burst into tears and that too when her father-in-law was looking.
The father-in-law had a heart as soft as
butter and he never had understood the need of watching pennies, the way Radha
auntie did. His heart melted, when he saw his daughter-in-law in tears and
being very simple minded admonished Radha auntie in the presence of her
daughter-in-law.
He said, “Why do you scold that girl? Surely
a generous use of cooking oil is not going to put any strain on our family
income”.
Simpleton that he was, he didn’t realize at
all the enormity of what he had done. For to admonish and be-little a
mother-in-law in the very presence of her daughter-in-law is the surest way to
spoil the girl. Seeing how things stand, the daughter-in-law would lose no time
in climbing on the head of her mother-in-law and would settle there for all time
to come!
Radha auntie displayed her presence of mind
and sharply observed, “Running the house is women’s business. Men folk should
keep out of it”.
Her husband realized his error and said a
little sheepishly, “well! you can run the household the way you like. But I
can’t stand anybody in my family shedding tears”.
That put paid to all efforts to Radha auntie
to instill some sense into her spendthrift daughter-in-law. For the girl was
in the habit of promptly breaking into tears whenever she was admonished and
her father-in-law got quite agitated whenever he saw anybody in tears in his
house. Well Radha auntie could have shut her eyes and ignored the spend thrift
ways of her daughter-in-law. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do that.
For every time the daughter-in-law poured a very generous quantity of cooking
oil in the frying pan, poor Radha auntie’s heart raced pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat
and her mind reeled at the enormity of the waste. So the only alternative left
for Radha auntie was to do all the household work herself exercising the skills
of economizing she had honed over the years. So everyday the poor woman cooked,
washed clothes and cleaned the house too to save the broom from getting thinner
too fast. Well! If a woman had to slog like this, what good did it do her to
have a daughter-in-law?
As poor Radha auntie narrated this tale of
her woes and humiliation to my grandma, she must have been overcome by grief
and shed a tear. For my grandma told her not to take these matters so much to
heart and repeat the name of Lord Rama a thousand times with her rosary, to
regain her peace of mind.
The next day I had to learn by heart the
route of tram car no, six. It started from Dadar and travelled by stages to
Parel. It would have proceeded further and terminated at Museum had it not been
halted in its track by the arrival of Godavari auntie to spend an afternoon
with my grandma.
Godavari auntie too had a daughter-in-law
and I had seen her when she had been brought to our house to bow to my grandma
and get her blessings. She too had seemed to me then a nice, obedient and
respectful daughter-in-law. But soon enough I gathered from the talk between my
grandma and Godavari auntie that this girl too wasn’t at all as nice, as I had
thought she was.
Godavari auntie had decided that she didn’t
want any smart and pert city-bred girl as her daughter-in-law. Girls in cities
like Mumbai and Pune were, she believed, brought up on a loose string. They
were allowed to have their own way more often than was good for them. They also
had far too much education and were prone to argue with their elders. Such
girls obviously couldn’t be good daughters-in-law. A daughter-in-law, if she was
to be useful in her mother-in-law’s house, had to be obedient and hardworking.
It helped if she had not set her foot in a school and more over was rather
dumb. Such girls, Godavari auntie knew could be found in the remote villages of
Konkan. So, she had scouted around and chosen as her daughter-in-law exactly
the kind of girl she was looking for. She was particularly happy. She had then
looked forward to years of happiness with just the right kind of
daughter-in-law at her beck and call. But gods, who rule the destinies of mere
mortals, seemed to have ordained otherwise and poor Godavari auntie soon found
herself mired in a plethora of troubles.
She discovered that girls from rural Konkan
are awfully ignorant of life in a city like Mumbai. Her daughter-in-law had
never seen water flow out of a tap at the turn of a key. So whenever she
had an opportunity, the daughter-in-law turned on the tap full blast and stared
at it in wide-eyed wonder. The result was that Godavari auntie had water
splattered all over her small kitchen. The girl was equally amazed to see a
room bathed in bright electric light, when she pressed a tiny button and she
switched the lights on as often as she could. Godavari auntie kept a strict eye
on her when she was at home. But whenever she went out, the girl switched on
all the lights in the house and turned the tap on fully and watched those
miracles with wide-eyed wonder. The result was that the electricity bill
mounted and Godavari auntie lived in constant dread of slipping on the west
kitchen floor and breaking her bones. Godavari auntie scolded the girl sharply.
When she did so, the girl was very contrite and burst into tears. That was such
a pitiful sight, that kind hearted Godavari auntie couldn’t scold her any more.
What amazed the girl the most was the
constant flow of traffic in the streets of Mumbai. So she took every
opportunity, she could, to go out into the common gallery of the chawl and
watch the t1ow of traffic in the street below.
An excuse was needed to go out into the gallery and this she found in the tulsi plant that hung in a pot from a hook in the gallery. Every Maharashtrian household has a tulsi plant of its own. The women in the household water it and bow to it every day in the morning and in the evening. After all the plant is an abode of gods and the tulsi herself is a goddess. If therefore a daughter-in-law wants to water the tulsi plant and bow to it, a mother-in-law cannot or rather wouldn’t stop her from doing so.
Realizing this the daughter-in-law, hailing as
she did from deeply religious rural Konkan, made it a point to water the tulsi
plant in the gallery. Once in the gallery her eyes were riveted with
fascination on the stream of cars, taxis, tramcars, pushcarts, hawkers and
marriage processions in the street below. She watched it with openmouthed
wonder and couldn’t bring herself to tear away from that sight.
Inevitably, her household chores remained
unattended and Godavari auntie found to her horror the rice burnt black on the
kitchen fire while the vegetables remained half cut.
That naturally upset Godavari auntie and she
cried, “Where are you? What on earth are you doing?”
She had to raise her voice to the very limit
before she was heard. When at last her words penetrated her daughter-in-law’s
ears, the girl gave a start and rushed into the kitchen with a contrite
expression on her face.
Godavari auntie asked angrily, “What on earth
were you doing out there in the gallery for so long?”
“I was watering the tulsi plant,” explained
the daughter-in-law.
“Why should that take so long? Were you
feeding it water with a spoon, the way one feeds a baby’!” asked-Godavari
auntie angrily.
Being obedient and respectful, the
daughter-in-law kept mum and busied herself with her unfinished household
chores.
On seeing that Godavari auntie went out to
the washing place to take her bath and then was engaged in the ritual worship
of the family deities.
The daughter-in-law then dutifully cut all
the vegetables, put them in a brass container, which she put on the kitchen
stove for cooking. The rice being burnt she would again take two measures of
rice, in a brass pot and put it on the kitchen fire for cooking.
Having nothing to do except to wait for the
vegetable and the rice to be cooked, the girl again felt drawn towards the
gallery. So she took a pot of water and went out to water the tulsi plant.
When Godavari auntie walked into the kitchen
after finishing her bath and ritual worship she again found that the rice and
the vegetable were overcooked if not charred and rendered unfit to eat.
That sight made Godavari auntie’s blood boil
and she yelled, “Now where on earth are you? And what are you doing?”
On hearing that, the daughter-in-law rushed
back to the kitchen with the pitcher of water in her hands.
On seeing that Godavari auntie screamed,
“Don’t tell me that you were watering the tulsi plant once again”.
The daughter-in-law would then bend her head
in acknowledgment of her guilt.
Godavari auntie then shook her head in
disgust and said, “If you water the tulsi plant so often, it will die of too
much water and your family will starve because they would have nothing to eat,
except charred rice and burnt vegetables”.
The girl certainly tried very hard to keep
away from the gallery. But so fascinated was she by the busy and colourful
street that after a few hours, she once again found herself dragging to the
gallery and the only excuse the dumb girl could think of for doing so was that
of watering the tulsi plant.
Godavari auntie screamed and yelled at her.
The daughter-in-law bent her head and cried every time she was scolded. She
nodded agreement when she was asked not to go out into the gallery. But after a
few hours her feet once again dragged her to the gallery.
Godavari auntie was almost in tears when she told
this tale of her woes.
My grandma sympathised with her and tried to
reassure her that things do get better after a spell of misfortune.
That made me think
that Godavari auntie’s tale of misery had ended and I set my tramcars in motion
and they proceeded by stages from Parel to Byculla.
But it seemed that the worst of Godavari auntie’s woes had still
remained to be told. For she said to my grandma. “Well! You haven’t yet heard
it all”.
“Good heavens! I had thought that things
couldn’t get any worse”.
“Oh! They could and they did” cried Godavari
auntie and then she told the story of the vanishing laddus. Godavari auntie
took good care of her family and prepared for them regularly various sweets
which they ate as snacks with relish. Once, after the daughter-in-law had
become a part of the family, she prepared laddus. Godavari auntie was renowned
in the neighbourhood as a good cook and her laddus were known to be
particularly delicious and her family always looked forward to eating them. So
she had prepared some laddus which she put in a can. She then placed the can on
a shelf, which could not be easily reached by children. With her laddus stored
safely, she went to the Ganpati temple as she was wont to do every afternoon.
The Ganpati temple apart from being a place of worship was also a meeting
ground of women folk in the various neighbourhoods of Girmaug. There messages
were conveyed and received, happiness was shared and burdens of sorrow were
lightened, and even marriages of daughters and sons were arranged. Like most
other women, Godavari auntie spent an hour or so there and then proceeded home
in a cheerful frame of mind. She then attended to household chores and tried to
train her daughters-in-law to do a few things around the house. Soon it was evening
and her husband and son returned from their places of work.
Intending to give them a pleasant surprise,
Godavari auntie climbed on a stool and took down the can of laddus. She was a
little surprised when she found that the can wasn’t quite as full of laddus as
she thought it was, when she had filled it. A suspicion flitted across her
mind, but she ignored it. ‘One does sometimes form wrong impressions’ she told
herself and hastened to put two laddus in each of the two plates for the men
folk in her family to eat. After they had eaten smacking their lips, she put one
laddu a piece in two dishes. One of them
she gave her daughter-in-law and the other she ate herself. She was rather
annoyed when the daughter-in-law smacked her lips and that too loudly when she
ate her laddu. But knowing that she was but a girl and dumb one at that,
Godavari auntie did not scold her. If only she had known what those smacks
portended, she would have been more stern and watchful.
As usual, Godavari auntie went to the Ganpati
temple the next day in the afternoon and returned after a couple of hours. What
she saw on her arrival surprised her no end. She saw her daughter-in-law
holding her stomach and rushing to the toilet.
“What on earth is the matter?”, cried
Godavari auntie in amazement.
“My stomach! My Stomach! Something strange is
happening there”, cried the daughter-in-law and vanished into the toilet.
Godavari auntie couldn’t figure out why all
of a sudden her young and robust daughter-in-law should have an upset stomach.
But soon, she put two and two together and surmised what could have happened.
So she climbed on a stool and took down the can of laddus. As she had expected
it was amazingly light when she opened it and she understood why, a large
number of laddus had disappeared from the can.
While she looked at the nearly empty can in
stunned amazement, the daughter-in-law emerged from the toilet. When she saw
her mother-in-law looking into the can of laddus, she burst into tears.
Godavari auntie wanted to say a great deal
but she couldn’t find words to express her feelings. She opened her mouth and
closed it wordlessely. But that didn’t really matter. For her daughter-in-law
was in no condition to be engaged in conversation and be scolded. She clutched
her stomach and rushed to the toilet once again.
Godavari auntie clutched her head. She was at
her wits’ end. It seemed that she was destined to do all the cooking and
household chores herself. Her daughter-in-law, it seemed, was too dumb to do
any of them. Moreoever, she had to keep a watch on that girl constantly. Even a
visit to the Ganpati temple could prove hazardous to her house and also to her
daughter-in-law. It was terrible.
After staying almost imprisoned in her own
house for ten days, Godavari auntie couldn’t stand it anymore. So she had
ventured to leave her house in the care of her daughter-in-law and visit my
grandma to unburden herself of her woes.
She cried, “I have to slave in the house
myself and stay imprisoned there to keep a watch on this girl. Why, I can’t
sleep in peace even at night for fear of what my daughter-in-law would be upto.
Even if a mouse stirs, I sit up with a start”.
My grandma was all sympathy for her and
Godavari auntie needed it all. She had tried to avoid the troubles that mothers-in-law
suffered, when they had smart and slick city girls as daughters-in-law. She had
chosen as a daughter-in-law not only a girl from a poor family in a Konkan
village but also taken care to see that she was rather dumb. But this girl
turned out to be far more dumb than what Godavari auntie had bargained for. In
fact it had never occurred to her that a girl could be as dumb as that. But
there was one and she was right there on her hands.
My grandma was a kind and helpful person and
with her long experience of solving problems of relatives and friends could offer useful suggestions to
women in trouble.
She said to Godavari auntie, “It might help
if you keep the can on a shelf in the sacred corner of the house where the
idols of family deities are kept”.
It was a gem of a suggestion. So atleast I thought for only a person who had a bath and who wore a silk garment could touch anything in the sacred corner. It would have been a sacrilege for anybody else to touch anything in that corner.
I had expected Godavari auntie to accept, the suggestion with alacrity. But she
nearly grimaced, “I had thought of
that. But I am not sure that the girl with her uncontrollable craving for sweet
things would not be tempted to break the religious rules. If she does that, not
only will I lose the laddus but will also have sins heaped on my head”.
My grandma was aghast when she heard this,
“Are things that bad?”
“They certainly are”, said Godavari auntie
with laconic grimness.
“In that case”, said grandma, “You better not
keep the laddus on that shelf. For apart from committing sacrilege she may eat
not only your laddus but also the very special jam which is generally kept in
that corner”.
“She is not a bad girl otherwise. She never
talks back and does whatever she is asked to do. She is a good workhorse, strong and tireless. But she has an
appetite as large as that of half a dozen girls and she is so crazy about
watching the traffic in the street, that I have to keep my eyes peeled, if I
want to get anything done from her at all’.
At that juncture my mother brought in cups of
scalding hot tea which both the elderly women drank with noisy relish.
Guessing that the tale of woes had been fully
told I set the tramcar no.6 in motion and it proceeded without any interruptions
from Byculla to Girgaum and on to Museum.
Next day it was tramcar no. 19 that started
its journey in the afternoon from Opera House to Ballard Pier. However, the
tramcar had hardly reached Nul Bazaar when Bheema auntie called on my grandma
for tea, sympathy and sage advice. She looked quite haggard, and spent.
Obviously, she had some pretty distressing problems of her own.
My grandma guessed this immediately and
asked, “Bheema auntie are you unwell? You look quite haggard and spent”.
Bheema auntie’s knee joints crackled as she
settled down gingerly on the straw mattress with a heavy sigh. She then moaned
and nursed her knee.
Grandma as usual was very understanding. She
took no time at all to guess that Bheema auntie was in great distress. She
asked, “You look quite worried and spent. Bheema auntie. Are you unwell?”
Bheema auntie moaned and said, “Mathutai, I have no words to describe what I am going through. I am afraid that this daughter-in-law of mine will any day drive me over the fence. You shouldn’t be surprised if you find me one of these days wandering around in the streets pulling my hair and tearing up my saree”.
This seemed to be a tale which demanded, my
undivided attention. So tramcar no. 19 had to halt in its tracks near the Round
Temple, until the tale unfolded itself.
“Really? Do you mean to say that you too have
the same kind of problem that Godavari auntie has?” asked Grandma. She was
obviously quite surprised. She continued, “But how can that be? You chose for
your son, a bride from the city of Pune. Moreover, she comes from a good
family. She is fair skinned, beautiful and quite a lively young girl. She also
has had some education. Every woman I met at the Ganapati temple said that the
girl is one in a hundred and that you were very fortunate and wise too to have
chosen a girl like that as your daughter-in-law”.
Bheema auntie moaned and said ruefully, “Oh, Mathutai! Unfortunately, choice of that girl from Pune, which everybody considers wise and happy, has turned out to be a blunder. If only I had not been so particular and chosen a simple run-of-the-mill kind of a girl as a daughter-in-law, I would have had peace and happiness in my old age. But that was not to be and I can only look forward to trouble and humiliation for the rest of my life”.
Poor Bheema auntie looked a picture of misery
and she pulled in through her nose several times.
My grandma was at a loss to understand why a
lively, educated girl from Pune should cause so much distress to her
mother-in-law. So she asked, “But what does that girl do to cause you so much distress?”
“What does she do indeed! What does she do!
Why, this slip of a girl barely in her teens, offers, nay throws at me
gratuitous and impudent advice about how to run my household and how to conduct
myself in family gatherings.”
My grandma was so stunned by what she heard
that she stared at Bheema auntie in open-mouthed wonder for a long time. She
then cried, “Good heavens! Have things come to that pass? Have they, really?”
She was obviously overwhelmed by the enormity of what was
going on. It took her some time, to recover from the shock. Thereafter she
pondered over the situation and said haltingly, “Well! we all know and so do
you that the people from Pune tend to be a little uppity. They think rather
highly of themselves and look down their noses at people in the rest of
the world. But I am sure that it never occurred to you; as it never had to
me, that even daughters-in-law hailing from Pune would have the temerity to
talk impudently to their mothers-in-law”.
Bheema auntie said, “To tell you the truth,
Mathutai, I was well aware of this proclivity of Puneities and I was
particularly reluctant to have as my daughter-in-law a girl who had spent some
years in a Pune school. I knew that in those schools they put all kind of
pernicious ideas in the heads of girls. But my son Visoo in spite of having a
college education is totally ignorant of the ways of the world and particularly
of the ways of Puneites. On the contrary he thinks that the girls from Pune and
particularly those who have studied at the Huzurpaga school are smart and
pretty and to marry one of them is the best thing that can happen to a young
man. So he insisted that he would only marry a girl from Pune, who had studied
at the Huzurpaga school”.
Grandma shook her head sadly and said, “I do
not know what things are coming to! If a woman cannot choose her daughter-in-law,
how can she run the family and hold it together! In the good old days a boy
wouldn’t have dared to tell his family that this is the girl I want to marry.
But this is the dark age of the evil Kali and the world is falling to pieces”.
There was a look of stony resignation on
Bheema auntie’s face and she said bitterly, “I must have committed a thousand
sins in my previous birth to have to suffer this”.
“At least the boy’s father should have
scolded Visoo and dissuaded him from marrying an impertinent girl from Pune”,
observed my Grandma.
“That is what should have happened. But on
the contrary the boy’s father encouraged him to marry a girl who had studied at
a school. Now if, one’s own teeth bite one’s own tongue, what can one do? Well!
Who am I to complain against the dictates of the gods, who govern our lives.”
She said this in a resigned philosophical tone but that could not hide the
bitterness in her voice.
These words seemed to indicate that as far as
Bheema auntie was concerned, the topic was closed. But obviously she had a
great deal more to say about her impertinent daughter-in-law and it all came
out when my Grandma asked sympathetically, “Is she making life too difficult
for you. I hope she is not grinding red chillies with stone on ‘your head, as
some daughters-in-law seem to be doing these days?”
“Well! Yesterday she tried to teach me how I
should cook suran. She said that the suran I had cooked was far too hard to
bite and swallow. In Pune, she claimed, they cook a suran so that it becomes as
soft as a butter.”
“Did she really say that? Oh, the temerity of
these girls!” murmured Grandma sadly.
Well! I wasn’t the one to take that lying
down. I told that suran is naturally hard and it ought to stay hard when
cooked. We folks from Konkan like it that way and eating it poses no problem
for us, because we have strong and healthy teeth. Folks in Pune, it seems, do
not have good teeth and that is why they cook suran till it becomes as soft as
butter. We folks in Konkan need no lessons in cooking or anything else for that
matter from folks in Pune.
This certainly was a blistering retort and
the way Bheema auntie said it, made it sound like a knock-out blow.
“She certainly asked for it”, said my grandma
approvingly and added, “I hope she did not talk back, when she heard this”.
“No she never talks back. Never says a word.
But she covertly smiles and turns up her nose. The way she does it is very
annoying. I feel like twisting that impertinent nose, when she turns it up.”
Grandma was aghast when she heard this. She
cried, “What on earth are things coming to in this dark age of the evil Kali!
We never even looked up into the eyes of our mothers-in-law when we talked to
them”.
Those words only added to Bheema auntie’s
anger which was very much on the boil. “That impertinent girl turns up her nose
at everything in our house. Why, she even turned it up, when she saw the
peacock my daughter has embroidered. She considers us rustic because we have no
radio in our house. Well! If she wanted radios and fans in the house, she
should have married a rich nobleman Sardar from Pune.
“But doesn’t Visso pull up his uppity wife?”
asked grandma, who was amazed that a husband should tolerate such impudence on
the part of his wife.
“Ha! That indeed, is the root cause of these
troubles. Do you know what this stupid son of mine does? He nods approvingly to
whatever she says. He behaves like a man bewitched. I had never imagined that
Visoo could sink so low.” Cried Bheema auntie. One could guess from her manner
and tone that she was utterly disgusted.
Grandma couldn’t believe this, She cried,
“Don’t tell me that Visoo has become so small, that she can hold him in her
fist”.
“Why, he eats out of her hands like a poodle
and I his mother have to watch it”. Cried Bheema auntie and she was so over
whelmed by her feelings that she burst into tears.
I was amazed and, not a little confused by
what I had heard. I had seen Visoo and he was a tall and hefty man with
a big mustache. While his wife was a
relatively small and lean woman. I wondered how she could make a mouse out of
this big man.
I realized that this was a riddle, I could
not solve. So I gave it up. A good hot cup of tea assuaged Bheema auntie’s
feelings a little and after a while she left for the Ganapati temple along with
my grandma.
I too had to set in motion tramcar no. 19
which had halted in its tracks and it proceeded by stages past Carnac Bunder to
Ballard Pier.
Next day it was the turn of tramcar no. 1 and
it had travelled from Flora Fountain to Kalbadevi when Satyam auntie called on
my grandma to spend an afternoon with her.
As she walked past me, to grandma’s room I
noticed right away that she was greatly agitated. As she settled down on the
mat spread for grandma and her visitors, I heard loud agitated sighs which
sounded alarmingly like sobs. She also pulled her nose over and again, which
was an indication that she was about to break into tears.
My grandma noticing how worked up Satyam
auntie was, felt greatly concerned and said, “Now, now, Satyam auntie, do sit
down and relax. Laxmi bring a glass of water right away and then quickly make
some tea”.
My auntie Laxmi, being a well behaved and
obedient daughter-in-law, rushed to do what she was asked to do.
On noticing respectful behaviour of a
daughter-in-law Satyam auntie heaved a heavy sigh which was indistinguishable
from a sob and pulled in through her nose very loudly.
Grandma was as usual full of consideration
and sympathy. She put a hand on Satyam auntie’s shoulder and said, “Now, now,
do calm yourself. God is kind and everything will be all right”.
Satyam auntie shook her head sadly and said,
“You are very kind hearted, Mathutai. But I am unworthy of your kind blessings.
I must have committed many sins in my previous birth and that is why I have to
suffer this misery and humiliation and that too at the hands of a
daughter-in-law. Almost every woman has a daughter-in-law and not all
daughters-in-law are nice. Some are dumb and some are too clever and some are
sly too. Very few are as respectful and obedient as yours are, Mathutai, and
may you continue to enjoy this good fortune for all time to come. But even
those that are not nice do atleast maintain appearances and outwardly atleast
show respect to their mothers-in-law. But in my house, every thing is
topsy-turvy. Why, Mathutai, don’t be surprised if one of these days you find my
daughter-in-law lolling on the sofa and poor me standing behind her and fanning
her”.
At this juncture Satyam auntie was so
overcome with her feelings that she couldn’t say anything more and sat there
sighing and pulling in through her nose loudly over and over again.
“What has that daughter-in-law of your done
lately to make you miserable?” asked grandma who knew too well how nasty
daughters-in-law were becoming lately.
“What indeed!” exclaimed Satyam auntie, “Ask
me what she won’t do. After she is educated, isn’t she? She has even studied at
a college for two years, hasn’t she? So nothing is now beyond her”.
“Did she have the gumption to talk to you,
her mother-in-law?” asked grandma and I could sense the feeling of outrage in
her voice.
“Well! She hasn’t gone that far yet. But that
can very well happen. And, remember Mathutai, talking back is not the only way
of showing disrespect for and humiliating a mother-in-law. For instance, a
daughter-in-law can pretend not to have heard the words of her mother-in-law.
The poor mother-in-law may bid her to do certain things, forbid her to do other
things and may even scold her. What good would it do, if her daughter-in-law
pretends not to hear her at all. Can you think of anything more humiliating
than that?” Satyam auntie’s voice almost choked and she could not say anything
more. All I could hear were sighs and sounds of pulling in through the nose.
Grandma said nothing to give Satyam auntie
enough time to regain her voice. Then she said, “Having things come to that
pass?”
“Well! I will tell you what she does. Every
morning this girl instead of going into the kitchen to cook the morning meal,
sits on a chair and reads the morning paper the way men do. Why, she sometimes
sits in the favourite chair of her father-in-law. Now-a-days she goes out for
a walk with her husband walking with him instead of behind him as a wife should
do. And what she did yesterday was the limit. She wore a six yard saree like
the Gujrati women do and she had combed her hair in a fancy manner. All the
residents of our chawl came out of their houses to watch her go out almost hand
in hand with her husband.
After she left. I had to listen to the
sharp-tongued comments of the women in our chawl. They all said, ‘Satyam
auntie, you have a daughter-in-law who is miles ahead of all of us in her ways
and her clothes. We wont be surprised of one of these days we find her wearing
a dress like English women do baring her legs right up to her knee’.
“I wanted to scream and tell everybody what I
felt about this uppity daughter-in-law. But that would have been like biting
one’s tongue with one’s own teeth. So I retired to the kitchen and hid there
for the rest of the evening”. Satyam auntie almost broke into tears at this
point.
My grandma, who normally does not lose her
cool, was outraged when she heard of the wanton, uppity behaviour of Satyam
auntie’s daughter-in-law. She therefore said sharply, “Well! If things have
come to that pass, you should better ask her father-in-law to pull up both this
girl and her husband. I know that young people are somewhat foolish and tend to
run wild. But this is absolutely the limit. Why, this girl may cut her hair one
of these days as the English women do. And you won’t know where and when to
hide your face, when she puts you to shame in that manner. Frankly, it is time
the girl’s father-in-law put her foot down”.
Satyam auntie emitted a loud sigh which was
almost a sob. She cried, I wish my husband had done that. But he can be firm
only with his poor wife. When it comes to scolding his son or his daughter-in-law,
he becomes utterly tongue-tied. Well, he did draw my son aside and whisper a
few things to him in almost an apologetic voice but that was the end of his
asserting himself. So I took matters in hand and roundly scolded my son. And do
you know the outcome of that? Why, he had the gumption to say to me, “Mother,
if you are so unhappy about all these things, I would rather rent a separate
apartment and live there. That would give you peace of mind”.
My grandma almost heeled over when she heard
that. She cried, “Have things gone that far? Then better be prepared for the
worst. One of these days, you will have to stand behind your daughter-in-law
with a fan in hand”.
It was inconceivable that a son properly
brought up by a good mother like Satyam auntie would be guilty of such insolent
behaviour. Obviously some external influence was at work and where could it
come from except from a girl spoilt by two years of college education. Satyam
auntie considered it essential to point this out. She cried, “Mind you! My
darling Madhu on his own wouldn’t have thought of doing such a thing. He was
decent well behaved son, who always did whatever his mother wanted him to do.
But it is this spoilt girl who has put these wrong notions in his head. These
are the things, it seems, she learnt in those two years at college and she
pours them in his ears everyday. She is very coy and sweet, when she does so.
And this silly son of mine laps up whatever she says”.
Satyam auntie’s voice choked as she told this
tale of a proud mother being humiliated by an impertinent and uppity
daughter-in-law. My grandma entirely concurred with Satyam auntie. She said
indignantly, “Let me say this, Satyam auntie our good old days were the best.
In those days girls were married very young and mother-in-law sternly
disciplined them with a rod in hand. The daughters-in-law therefore, did as
they were told. When mothers-in-law said get up, they got up and likewise sat
down when asked to do so. None of them even dared to think of getting up a
separate household of her own”.
Satyam auntie took a deep breath and said,
“Well! In any case, I didn’t take this, impertinent talk lying down. The moment
I heard this talk of having a separate household. I picked up the heavy
grinding stone and said, “If ever anybody tries to setup a separate household
in my family, I will break my own head with this stone. It will be only over my
dead body that my son and daughter-in-law would walk out of my house”.
I was so engrossed in hearing this highly
dramatic tale of an outraged mother-in-law that not only did my tramcar stay
stalled in Nul Bazaar but I also did not notice my mother glowering at me with
her hands on her lips.
Well! Thereafter events took their usual
course. My mother pulled my ear and cried, “Is that the way you do your
lessons? It is four days now since your tramcars started their journeys and
none of them seems to reach its destination. You are man, aren’t you? What
business then do you have listening to women’s talk. Get up! Out with you. Sit
in the living room and do your lessons”.
Thereafter I couldn’t hear any more the tales
of uppity and errant daughters-in-law. But whatever I had heard till then was
enough to convince me that daughters-in-law hailing from the Vidharbha region
weren’t any better than those that hailed from Konkan. Daughters-in-law hailing
from the city of Pune were particularly nasty. But nastier still were
daughters-in-law who had a couple of years of college education in Mumbai.
I, therefore, wondered where the good
daughters-in-law came from. I needn’t have so wondered really. But I was then
too young to know that there was no such thing as a good daughters-in-law!