NOTHING LIKE THE MOTHER'S HOME

She woke up at the sound of pattering of footsteps outside and yawned without covering her mouth with her hand. It had become a habit of hers, to yawn after waking, by stretching her mouth as widely as possible. But she dared not do so loudly, for fear that her husband might wake up and beat the daylights out of her.  She was cautious more so now because of the baby, who would be hurt more than her. Or so she liked to believe. Dragging her unwilling feet out of the bed covers, she made her way to the kitchen, where she found her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law cooking away. Stifling a sigh, she went about doing her work, amidst the reprimands she received from her in-laws for being so late and therefore, neglecting her duties. Taking the milk container out of the poorly-working refrigerator, she poured a considerable amount into a glass for her husband. She then made her way back to the room, which, she felt, was calling out to her, tempting her into ditching the household chores and lying on top of the soft bed, with the fan whirring softly over face. Shaking these sinful thoughts out of her mind, she called out to her husband of two years into wakefulness. Eyeing her with contempt and disgust, he snatched the glass from her hand, nearly spilling its contents on the bed-sheet. After he was done, she sorrowfully made her way back to the kitchen which seemed to her like a personal Hell.

While doing a boring chore that had been assigned to her by her second mother, she tried to remember how all this had happened; how, without her even realizing it, she was made to let go of her happy childhood and was sworn into a wedlock with a man she barely knew; how, despite being the second child, she was married off earlier that her elder sister was. She knew not that her parents had been promised a better dowry in exchange for their second daughter and that how, in the name of money, they had pitifully married her into a family whose history was not known at all. But what she did know, was that she had no feelings for this man whom she called her husband. She did not wish to be married, for she preferred the carefree childhood to this tyrannical household where she was expected to behave like a grown lady. She wanted to scream out that she was no lady, that she wanted to play ‘stones’ the way she used to, before the marriage happened. She wanted to tell everyone that her sixteen year old shoulders were not ready to take on such heavy responsibilities, that she was not ready yet. She wanted to kill the baby that was to arrive, wanted to pull the mangalsutra out of her neck, wanted to return to her mother. This house, unlike her own, back in the home-village, was stifling her. But she knew that this would not be possible. Young though she may be, she was still well aware of the responsibilities of a good wife. Unlike the things she wanted to do, a caring wife was expected to be meek and submissive, one who is ever ready to be of use to the husband or any other member of the family, to forget her father’s place and consider the husband as God, Allah, Bhagvaan. But was she not doing all those things? Was she not being a loving wife, despite being uncomfortable with the swollen belly? But despite trying so hard to fit in, she saw only disapproval in the eyes of her in-laws and husband.

A loud shriek jerked her back from the line of thoughts and she saw her eldest sister-in-law was holding the milk container in her hand. The container was stained with spilt milk and so was the refrigerator. Five pairs of dark eyes fell on her, accusingly. Her mother-in-law walked up to her and gave her a resounding slap on the face.

“Do you not know how to manage a single container without creating havoc in our house? Why are you so clumsy, all the time? Had it only been because of the baby, we would have understood! But this kind of behaviour has been there ever since you stepped into this house! What do you want, you little witch? What is the matter with you? I knew you were up to no good from the moment I set my eyes upon you! The God be damned that He gave me a stupid fool like you in place of a responsible daughter-in-law! You are nothing but another troublesome mouth to feed! How I pity my son. What must he be feeling, after realizing that you were up to no good? Now don’t just stand there, gawking up at me! Clean the mess you have created!”

But before she could respond, before she could tell her that she had been extra cautious with the utensils, her mother-in-law walked away in a huff. It was then that she noticed the malicious gleam in her sister-in-law’s eyes and the haughty gait of hers which she often made use of, after purposefully causing trouble to someone. Fighting back tears, she walked up to the refrigerator and stood in front of it, helpless. She knew she would not be able to bend down, for the baby may get hurt in the process. But she knew too, that if she were to go against her mother-in-law’s commands, then it would be the end of her. While she was lost in thoughts, she had unconsciously bent down and removed the utensils from inside the refrigerator. Age-old practice to do work efficiently had taught her not to realize that she was actually doing some work. Till then, this quality had always brought appreciation from those around her, but that day, the same quality turned its back towards her.   

It was during this time that her husband came out of the room and saw her bending down to clear up the mess. Choking back most of his anger, he launched himself at her, pulling her hair and slapping her multiple times. Not realizing what had hit her, she fell to the ground, her hand covering her stomach, protectively. From somewhere through her fazed mind, she was able to register someone yelling at her. At length, consciousness returned to her and she realized that her husband was screaming at her, that her mother-in-law must have ranted on about her ‘clumsy’ daughter-in-law for being the way she was. Weak though she was, she got up on her feet with the help of the dinner table and readjusted her pallu. No longer having control over her tears, she felt them flow unrelentingly against her cheeks. Through the blur, she saw her mother-in-law frowning at her with distaste. She saw, rather than felt, her husband pulling her sharply into the room and locking the door from the outside.

Time seemed to pass quickly for her, as she lay collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. The tears would not stop. It was as if they had a life of their own and wanted the freedom to flow out of her eyes. She clutched her swollen stomach, felt her baby girl move restlessly. It was as if it sensed its mother’s discomfort. She heard the rumble of the clouds and realized, with surprise, that it was raining outside. It was as if Mother Nature was grieving for her, too. The next instant brought the news of the arrival of her husband, who looked like Death himself. She saw him pull out his belt from within the wardrobe and turn to glare at her. By the look of his face, she knew that he had taken the belt out to hit her with it, and not to secure his pants around his waist more firmly. It was as if he had not had enough already. The last thing that her mind was able to register was the crack of her husband’s belt around her belly.