Mother in law vs daughter in law

This post is purely imaginative and while it refers to the characters as Rekha – my wife and Selvi – my mother…they were in no way involved in this incident. This post has nothing to do with them. It has everything to do with me!

Fully aware of my hair’s need for coconut oil, my mother decided that Sunday was a good day for me to apply coconut oil and take bath. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I extended my head while she applied copious amount of Parachute oil (I still wonder why coconut oil has to be named Parachute. Why not ‘Lifeboat’?). Till this seemingly small incident, I didn’t realize that my hair was disputed territory. Though, the intelligent me should have guessed that anything at the top – Kashmir for example – is likely to be disputed. At least that is what half the World says.

I heard my wife, who I assume was just passing by, say: “Aunty, I could have done that.”

I heard my mother quickly respond, as if somebody had already given her the script and she had been practicing all night. “That’s ok dear. He is my son after all and I applied oil on his head for 28 years before you married him.”

“But now, I have married him, aunty.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t apply oil on his head. Or does it?”

I tried to intervene but could only say ‘hey, mother…Rekha…” before my mother rolled my head around in such a way that my Adam’s apple hurt. Surprisingly, it was Adam’s apple but I felt the pain. While on the subject of apples, did you know that Newton’s apple fell? Anyway, I couldn’t utter a single word thereafter and was a mute spectator to this favorite pastime in Indian families.

“I know you have been applying oil on his hair for the last 28 years and that’s precisely why I am asking you to leave this to me now.” It was Rekha. She had her arms akimbo which meant she was angry.

With bated breath I waited for my mother to respond. What was she going to say? I saw logic in what my wife was saying.

“Rekha dear (I swear I spotted some sarcasm when she uttered the word ‘dear’)…you will know once you give birth to your child.”

“But aunty, you would have applied oil on uncle’s hair…so it is only just that you give me my share of joy.” You could accuse me of being a hen-pecked husband but I thought my wife was doing a fairly good job here.

Maybe the argument was taking a toll on my mother’s motor faculties…she was just running her oily, sticky fingers through my hair now. I knew she was thinking. Hard.

“Are you saying you will not apply oil on your son’s hair after he is married?” Now, the scales seem to tilt in my mother’s favor. I wondered how Rekha saw herself reacting when a similar situation arose – 30 years hence.

There was a long silence. Was it the right time for me to intervene? I wasn’t so sure. Many a times, a rabbit gets hurt because it thinks the tigresses are in a playful mood and it is the right time to get out of the shrub. I held my breath.

Rekha spoke first. “I agree aunty. You have every right to apply oil…by depriving you of a chance now I don’t want to let go of my chance when my son marries. Besides, medical facilities are really good now-a-days…and for all we know…I might not be able to cheat after you are gone.”

I thought I heard my mother’s victory smile. It was the right time to emerge from under my bush. I said: “Peace then, huh?”

Before my mother could say anything my wife jumped up and said, “Let me give you an oil massage today.” I smiled – luck takes many forms before it smiles on you. As I followed my wife I heard myself say: ‘Sorry, mom!”

Other Nasty Reads

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# Kid Story: How Onion got its clothes
# Farting…the fading art
# The art of making good tea
# Married men, watch out for dinner-time

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