Mother-in-law

I was a child bride

In that large stately house

Where she reigned like a queen,

Having borne the only son

Among the three co sisters

Whose inauspicious wombs

Could squeeze out only girls.

Rising before sunrise, she decked

In gold and  silk shawls.

She yelled at the slothful servants

And guided me through the chores.

As her hands coaxed the cymbals

To the dulcet tunes of her evening bhajan

She would take me to task

For putting too much salt

In the potato curry, a favourite with her son.

She taught me a hundred skills-

To pickle raw mango, to knit a sock and to embroider.

And as I  pressed her feet every night,

Blessed me with the boons to be soon a mother.

Years passed and we moved homes

As my husband progressed in life.

And I bore her two grandsons

Much to her satisfaction and grandmotherly pride.

Still she decided everything

The fastings and the feasting

And I happily played a second fiddle

And we cursed the saas bahu of soaps

Who created much ado about really nothing.

My own sons got married

And moved away abroad

And they would come home

Once in two years

With flighty girls who easily got bored.

They fought with me

For expecting respect from their wives

And berated me for the shackles

Of bondage that I happily wore all our lives.

More years passed, they stopped coming

And I cried myself hoarse

And to her ancient bosom, did I desperately cling.

And when she was finally bedbound

when Alzheimer's took hold.

I fed her patiently with spoon

Wiping the corners of her drooling mouth.

And sang her many a hymn

To soothe her foggy mind

Then did I remember her regal face

That once welcomed me as I crossed her home's threshold.

- Neha Bansal