Sunday, August 12, 2001		Life Ties

BRINDA and Mohit got married after an intense three-year-long courtship. His parents were apprehensive of the alliance and convinced of the fact that they were ill-matched. They had to consent because their son was madly in love and sure that this was ‘the perfect match’. They respected his wishes and did not press the matter further. He had been a sensible model child, never faltering in his duty towards them. Trouble started from the day the bridal couple moved in with them.

Brinda could not get along with her mother-in-law. Whatever the elderly lady said was misconstrued by the younger one. She would stomp out of the house in a huff to one of her many friends’ homes and return only when Mohit got back from office. While the mother chose to keep mum,Brinda often distorted facts and angrily insisted on narrating the sequence of events to Mohit in the privacy of their room.

He loathed confronting his mother because he knew she was well-meaning and could not have said/done half the things his wife insinuated. His attempts at making Brinda understand always ended up in nasty fights. The acrimonious daily tussle soon became unbearable for everybody. Mohit dreaded returning home and his parents kept out of Brinda’s way, while she turned to friends for emotional support. She would be out all day, shopping, playing cards, having marathon chat sessions to escape the ‘suffocating atmosphere’ at home.

Things finally came to a head when Brinda pushed Mohit into a corner and forced him to choose between his parents and his wife, who was now carrying his child. Mohit had had enough of the daily battles. He wanted to get out. He knew it was unfair to desert his parents, but he saw no choice in the matter. The crisis could not be resolved, at least not immediately.

Brinda, the only child in an affluent home, was used to having things done without lifting a finger. Born 15 years after her parent’s marriage, she was the apple of their eye who could do no wrong. Every whim of hers had to be met at lightning speed. Whenever she was denied something, she threw tantrums and made sure that the entire household begged her ladyship’s forgiveness. These childhood games soon turned into a habit and she became precocious and spoilt. So used to was she of always taking from others that she never learnt to give. If the people close to her loved her,as they said they did, they had to surrender to her wishes, shower her with gifts and lovely surprises and always talk nicely to her. What she had to do in return was never spelt out. So, she turned out to be an impatient listener, who was not empathetic or intuitive to signals of help from those who claimed to love her. The chhothi memsahib never really grew up.

She knew that Mohit’s father was an honest service officer who had barely managed to make a modest home. The family was close-knit and bound together by a deep set of values. From the outside she had been fascinated with the anecdotes Mohit narrated, looking forward to being a part of a family she was sure would shower her with love and blessings. He was completely bowled over by her looks, biting sense of humour (she was never at a loss for words) and passionate loving. She showered him with expensive presents, backing it up with physically expressive gestures. Coming from a controlled and conventional environment, he was taken in by her spontaneity and child-like manner. She, on her part, was besotted by his solid and dependable persona. She felt cared for and protected. For the first time, she found comfort from a person’s feelings and emotions and not from what he could buy for her.

Balance was restored when they set up their own home and were blessed with twins. He knew Brinda’s hands were full. He did not want to upset the apple-cart in any way. He was taking on additional responsibility at work since it didn’t allow his mind to wander. He made weekly visits to his parents’ place where he tried conversing, offering help and support but could feel the distance which had crept in. They now leaned more heavily on their married daughter for fulfilling their emotional and physical needs. Though no one said anything to him he felt he had failed them. He was no longer consulted on decisions like buying and selling of property or on their medical interventions. He was simply informed. They didn’t expect him to pay or take out the time to nurse them. However, they didn’t stop him from coming either.

After a point of time he stopped going. He felt redundant and useless. He was sure just the way the weekly ‘meeting’ weighed heavily on his mind, it did on theirs too. It was perhaps best that he maintain a dignified silence. He called up of and on and was in touch through his sister. He began avoiding family gathering, because he feared inquisitions and sermons at the hands of insensitive relatives.

Mohit tried to internalise his hurt, never articulating it to Brinda. For one, he did not want to burden her and, two, he knew she would flare up and turn around at him for accusing her for the split. He maintained a stoic silence but something died within him. He missed the orderliness of his parents’ home and the warmth of their ‘middle class togetherness’.

He turned into a workaholic keeping late hours, carrying his laptop home. The only socialising he did was official. Brinda had been observing the changes in his behaviour. She knew at the root of his angst lay the fact that she had made him walk out on his parents. In the initial years, she had not wanted to confront or talk about it, lest it throw up her own juvenile and selfish behaviour. Now it was too late to delve into the past in order to establish a correlation with the present.

When Mohit’s mother had a paralytic stroke Brinda wanted to help out but her pride stopped her from accepting any responsibility for the break-up. She told Mohit to go and spend time with them but he shrugged it off. Of all the people, he did not want to talk to Brinda about it. He hated to see his sister and husband do what he and Brinda ought to be doing. Parenting had mellowed Brinda down. She was an involved mother who wanted to ensure that her children not be deprived of anything. When she saw her daughter, she often wondered as to what kind of home she would get married into, fervently praying that she make the right choice. Seeing her son grow into a tall, responsible lad always made her eyes moist with affection. What if he too ‘deserted’ them in their old age? This fear gnawed at her insides. He seemed devoted to them, not the kind who would abandon them for a girl he had just met. But then was that not what Mohit had done? As she began to question herself and examine her past behaviour, she realised how foolishly she had reacted.

In spite of all that had happened, Mohit’s parents had never come to her doorstep accusing her of snatching their son away. They had chosen to fight their own battles, keeping to themselves only to see him happy. Wasn’t that the ultimate sacrifice in love ? She wasn’t too sure if she would be as understanding, but she certainly didn’t want history to repeat itself. She wanted to make amends. Mohit had never brought up the subject. He had kept all the hurt stashed away in a remote corner of his heart. She decided to talk to him and convince him of her sincerity. He was taken aback by this switch at a time he least expected it. His parents forgave them as only loving parents can. His mother did not live very long but she had the good fortune of having her dutiful and caring son and daughter-in-law back.

Mohit often wondered if reconciliation was so easy why had he not tried hard enough earlier. Perhaps, he had given up too early? May be if he had talked to Brinda, she would have seen things differently and they could have patched up earlier.