There is also a common belief among the parents in our society. They believe that when they marry off their daughters, they bring home the most esteemed guest of the house. They believe that it is the duty of that ‘esteemed guest’ to fulfil all the wishes and dreams of their daughter and keep her happy. Like all the fairy-tale stories, their princess with her prince should live happily forever together. But…when they marry off their sons, they bring home a slave on compassionate grounds and she is there to obey their commands and live to fulfil their wishes and dreams. In this whole scenario, my heart goes out for sons. Poor innocent guy…soon…for no fault of his he gets branded; mama’s boy or joru ka ghulam. The tag lives forever. Related reading: 9 things about the female orgasm you didn’t know that you didn’t know
My first sacrifice
So after my marriage when the Mama of my boy asked me to spend a couple of months with her instead of joining my MBA class, I followed her command and his wish. Anyway, it was not IIM that I had got admitted into. I sacrificed my diploma to earn the degree of great daughter-in-law. ‘Great daughter-in-law’! Well… we all know that it is a fictitious degree. A couple of years later, Mama’s boy’s job took us to a faraway land. Leaving them in the East, we shifted to the West with the whole stretch of land in between. But…was I the lucky one to live far away from the encroachment in the decisions of my life? Guess again. “Why have you joined the school? Who will take care of the house, my son and your children? Quit the job and take care of your home and family. That is more important. We don’t want a working bahu.” It was a command over the telephone. I took the command in my stride and kept doing what I wanted to do. For him the remote control was pressed, but the joru ka ghulam kept mum. Related reading: 6 reasons why women have an affair
The next demand
Two months later my parents-in-law came to stay with us for a month. The Mama of my boy commanded me to take a month’s leave and stay at home with them. “Why? It is a playschool and I will be away only for four hours,” I was frustrated while trying to stay calm. “I won’t get a month’s leave!” “Then quit the job. How much are you earning? I will pay double the amount to you. Stay at home and take care of your home.” I felt sarcasm in the tone. I was hurt. Was it because the Mama’s boy kept mum throughout the conversation or because I didn’t stand up for my dignity? I was clueless.
But not this time
Next morning, I stood under the shower soaking the chill of the water in that cold wintery morning. I was shivering, but certainly not because of the freezing water. Tears from my eyes were losing their identity in the flow. They were not the expression of my emotions anymore. It was just water, no one cares whether it flows or stays back in the eyes hidden somewhere behind the fake smile. Even I knew that what I was doing was just a ‘timepass’ job that I have taken to keep myself engage. I knew that the meagre salary I earned is simply my ‘pocket money’. But still my job meant a lot to me. Above all it made me feel happy and alive. I stared into the mirror. The red shirt elevated my mood. I matched it with the red lipstick and light make-up. Wearing my confidence and walked to meet the stunned glares. “Breakfast is on the table and I will return before lunch.” I walked towards the main door. The clinking sound of my heels was music to my ears. From the corner of my eyes I saw a brave smile playing on joru ka ghulam’s lips.
