In-Laws ,Outlaws

Quite a few of us seem to have the usual in-law issues. I'm sure each and every one of us swore we would never be THAT daughter in law. You know the ones I'm talking about . Stereotypical and scheming. Passive aggressive and myopic. Superficial and petty to a fault. Not that I would know about any of that malarkey, I hold myself to much higher standards, thank you very much. I can almost say that with a straight face. OK. Here's the story.

Once upon a time there was this aggressively average girl with an on again off again sort of relationship with hairbrushes and very alarming eyebrows. Somewhere around her late teens this girl discovered that a uni-brow needn't be a life sentence and experienced a brief spell of almost attractiveness in her early twenties.

Her parents were obviously eager to get rid of their second youngest thereby freeing up another bedroom to use as storage. So they decided to make hay before sun damage and gravity took its toll and offload her onto the nearest person who could be persuaded to marry her.

With the help of a guerilla marketing campaign, a lot of good lighting and some tricky angles they found several suitable candidates, and winnowed down that list till they were left with the Holy grail of Desi matrimonial columns... The parha lilkha shareef bacha (tall, both arms,not one but two legs, eyes, ears all intact , sharafat writ large across his studious forehead, solvent, sane, no police record, no drug habit). He ticked all the boxes and he didn't even need to be chloroformed, bribed or kidnapped. It was a match made in shaadi online heaven. And so, with very little fanfare they were married.

I wouldn't say this girl was stupid per se. Life had been kind. Easy going parents, loving family, no drama, no tragedy and despite her exceeding ordinariness very little disapproval . I do miss that girl.She would have given you the butterfly embroidered shirt of her back, comfortable in the knowledge that there were many many more shirts where that came from. And ok she was maybe just a little bit stupid.

So this girl arrives in her susraal. And it's different, dare I say very different. Here, everyone's favorite line is " a place for everything and everything in its place" .Socks are ironed and plastic bags are lovingly folded. It's the sort of well sanitized, monochrome domestic utopia which would put Martha Stewart to shame.

But, hear me out. They're good people. The good is almost palpable. But it's like the aliens landed, colonized the earth and somehow even spoke the same language. My aliens were Stepfordesque domestic paragons living in harmony with the natives but they were maybe just too perfect to pass as flawed humans. Jones-ier than the Joneses themselves. Here a spade was always a spade. Lunch was at two pm, tea at four, dinner at eight sharp. So I lived amongst the friendly aliens. Or maybe I was the friendly alien in their midst. In any case. We persevered.

Just so you know my mother in law is that breed of steel spined lady who brooks no nonsense and makes my flaky self quake in her bata chappalein . I kid you not. I literally had a long running series of nightmares about her . She ran her house like a well oiled machine. Given the opportunity she would have made an excellent dictator or the sort of dauntless lady boss who drags behemoths of industry into the future by the scruff of their reluctant necks .

But she chose to grow where she was planted and instead painstakingly wrote out living epistles in blood and sweat Aka her pride and joy, her kids . The intensity and resolve that could have been dedicated to changing the world was channeled into a crusade against tardiness and creases. If future historians were to canonize her. It would definitely be as the very punctual patron saint of ironing.

I despite being an inherently wishy washy sort of human, was fortunate enough to marry one of her best efforts and can attest to the quality of her workmanship.

In contrast I was very much an unfinished lump of clay. Not because my parents were neglectful by any stretch of the imagination. Mostly because I was the sort of person who had made a hobby out of evading any authority figure whenever possible.

I wore my halo of all encompassing cluelessness with pride . And my mother in laws relentless efforts to shape me into a proper adult were not welcomed or appreciated . At all. My reasoning was. I am an adult, ergo I should be allowed to act like a giant toddler If I so desire.

Her methods were the same as they had been with her own children. Brusque and to the point instruction, no frills, no excuses acceptable . I was miserable. I whined , I cried. I wallowed in teenage angst well past its sell by date. I raged and vowed bloody vengeance. I was petty, I was bitter, I was sulky. I flounced dramatically from room to room resplendent in my self inflicted victim hood .

On several occasions I packed my bags and contemplated going home. Where I could extend the expiry date on my glory years all the way to my grave. Humored by my long suffering parents.

Khair almost inspite of myself and thanks in large part to my husbands composure in the face of extreme provocation. We weathered several storms without too much permanent damage. Was it tough for me. Yes. Could she have handled it differently, maybe. Could I have reacted more maturely. Definitely. Was it strictly speaking unfair of her to expect a 23 year old to act like an adult. Not at all.

Eight years of living with her has taught me a lot. Both about myself and about other people in general. I can now effectively blank out entire conversations while saying ahaan at the necessary parts. I can make small talk like a pro. Expressing (so good it's almost) genuine interest in the weather, the neighbors kids, their report cards, the state of the political system . I can agree with people even though every fibre of my being disagrees with them. I can wake up at 5am without an alarm. I can keep my temper (most of the.. Ok a lot of.. OK some of the time) Make my own bed, maintain a wardrobe which isn't one pair of leggings and three kurtas, host a dinner for up to twenty people without making an idiot of myself . I now know that the sound "hmmm" has many different meanings ranging from "please die in a ditch" to "Do go on please" . I can express displeasure while smiling beatifically, radiating coldness for a radius of several miles.I can stifle the urge to break into warbling song every time my favorite jingle comes on. In short, I am semi-civilized.

Does my mother in law still have the ability drive me insane. Yes she does. Do I always agree with her. Not necessarily . But honestly speaking not any more or less than I agree or disagree with my own mother. And with both my mom and her, the best bet is to either vocally agree or shut up.

Is she as terrifying as I had initially thought she was. Yes and No. She has a certain unbending core and without it she might not have survived her life. This isn't a woman you cross. Is she a good person. Yes she is.

I was just always so on the bench about everything in life that the whole idea of discipline seemed like a suffocating strait jacket. When I look at her. I see a woman who made the best of her life. Someone who loves my kids, almost as much as I do, a woman who has always put her family before herself . A woman who may not always be "nice" (I personally don't think there is a more over rated word in the English dictionary) but who always endeavors to do the right thing and to be fair, and we all know that is immeasurably more difficult.

Does she still make mistakes, don't we all? But. When the chips are down she's the sort of player you want on your team. Do I love her. I don't know. It took me twenty five odd years to tell my parents I loved them. I'm a slow learner. So it's definitely a work in progress.

Given the choice. She isn't a guest I would have willingly invited to the never-ending party I wanted my life to be. But since she arrived, I'm very very grateful for her ongoing presence in the rather more mundane life I actually ended up with.

Tldr:Was spoilt and slightly entitled, resented mil for the wake up call from reality. No longer do. Appreciate the good wherever it comes from.