Mama’s Boys: Shobhaa De On Indian Men And Their Mothers

I have never understood why wives and girlfriends get so worked up over other women when the only woman worth taking serious note of in their partner’s life is the mother. I have also never understood why this lady makes everybody so nervous.

Sensible spouses should not even attempt to compete with their men’s mamas. It’s a total waste of time and counter-productive, too. Befriending the enemy isn’t always the answer, but as strategies go, it beats battling with the old bird.

Men love their mothers. Men only love their mothers. Men love their mothers only. That covers most of the ground, I should think.

It’s true. The mamma-bond is a very special one. Once you accept its existence and decide not to challenge it, you are better off. How can you possibly compete with a creature who has been certified perfect by the man you love? Perfect is perfect, right? If you have problems with that, too bad.

Not all men are upfront about the way they feel towards their mommies. Some hide their feelings better than others, some feel apologetic about revealing the depth of their emotion and some make excuses for the way they feel even when nobody has asked.

It’s all right. Men are like that when it comes to things that they’re sentimental about. Like belts with broken buckles. Or toothbrushes that resemble toilet cleaners. Forced with a choice, they get defensive and possessive. Don’t force him to make one.

Don’t say things like, “It’s either her or me. Those awful old things or my love.” They’re pretty sure in their minds, and you end up looking a fool when the decision is taken. It’s always ‘her’ and ‘those things’ over you. Get it?

Wives should leave men alone to handle their mothers. But they don’t. They like to think their husbands want their participation in pampering their mummies. They don’t. It’s a private affair between a grown man and the woman from whose womb he has entered the world. It’s biological bonding that excludes you.

Who are you to him, anyway? A prettyish stranger he cast his eyes on years and years ago? What is your real rishta with the guy? Wouldn’t the logical question to ask be, Hum Aapke Hain Kaun? Nothing. Is there a blood link? No. An umbilical cord? No.

Will he die without you? Absolutely not. Will he die without his mother? Yes. Is she replaceable? No way. And you? Any day. Even if you have borne the man children he claims he loves dearly? Yes. Do you hate him for this? No. You hate his mother.

Well, don’t! It isn’t her fault she has a milksop for a son. She can’t help it if he still makes goo-goo eyes at her or starts sucking his thumb in her awesome presence. Has she asked him to sit at her feet and press them?

Is it the mother who insists on spoon-feeding this hulk you’re married to each time you visit her home? Isn’t it the hulk who regresses to the extent of adopting a baby-voice and going in for childish prattle whenever she’s in the vicinity?

Okay, she does treat him like he’s a naughty five-year-old, but she’s his mother – to whom his childhood meant their best years together — do you mind? She can still remember how he used to snuggle up to her and fall fast asleep while she lovingly cleaned his nostrils/ears. Or how sweetly he presented his bottom to be washed after doing a big poo-poo at the dining table.

These are indelible memories. You only came into the picture after the hulk was toilet-trained. You didn’t get the golden chance to wipe his bum. You refuse to take the lint out of his belly-button. You even refuse to trim his ear/nostril hairs. And you dare to talk about love and devotion?

Don’t fool yourself, woman. True love involves – yup – sacrifice and a willingness to get your hands dirty. You fail miserably in that department. Yes, you do. Remember how you reacted to his snot-filled hankies — the undisguised disgust on your face? Or the rude way in which you held your nose when he removed his shoes and waved smelly socks in your face?

His mother would never do that. Never. Nor would she refuse to wake up from deep sleep and fix him an omelette at two in the morning after he’s come lurching back from a drinking binge with the ‘boys’. Mothers love to wait up for their sons.

And you? Not only do you fall asleep, you do something far worse — you keep the television on. And the bathroom light too. And that’s not all. You deliberately forget to keep his pyjamas neatly folded on the bed. Plus, the covers aren’t turned down on his side.

A man walks in wearily somewhat blearily into his bedroom after a long, long day, seeking comfort and iced water. He’s willing to settle for a Bloody Mary and an omelette. What does he find? A woman in a crumpled nightie fast asleep with the lights and television on. Is that fair?

Should she not be sitting by the door with the cocktail in her hand and a smile on her face? What do you mean, that’s unreasonable? Nothing is unreasonable – that’s the least a breadwinner expects. Food and basic amenities. He’s paying for them, damn it.

Now take the man’s mother. Would she squint back at him and ask a stupid question like, “What time is it?” knowing full well she’ll receive a wonky answer? Would she throw dirty looks in the drunk’s direction and go right back to sleep? Would she yell, “Stop making so much noise in the loo – you’ll wake up the neighbourhood,” thereby adding to the din?

Would she refuse, yes, refuse, to go to the kitchen and heat up dinner for the fifth time in one night, saying, “Nobody eats tandoori chicken at three in the morning in this house.”? Never! Mothers understand perfectly that men have to be men. They cannot be stopped from or reprimanded for enjoying themselves from time to time.

You may not think much of men who knock back half-a-dozen whiskies on an empty stomach. It may not be your idea of enjoyment. So what? Who’s asking you in the first place? Huh? Who? Does his mother ever so much as mention booze in his presence? Utter that awful word called ‘alcohol’?

Does her expression alter even one teensy-weensy bit when her son rolls in reeling? Of course not. She smiles indulgently, shoos all the servants away, scowls in your general direction and asks brightly, “Hungry? No problem. I’ll quickly make some aloo parathas for you. Won’t take a minute. Don’t worry.”

Someday you’ll be saying exactly the same thing to your bounder of a son. It’s not just part of our mental make-up to behave thus as mothers, it’s the movies that insist we do. Whether it was Nirupama Roy or Raakhee, all screen mums die for the opportunity of making aloo parathas for the drunken louts they call sons.

Movie mothers hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil when it comes to male offspring. These unworthy men may be murderers and/or rapists — but mamma knows best. They’ve turned that way because of society. But because they’ve grown into great, big, hulking heroes on energy-giving, pure, unadulterated mother’s milk, there beats a heart of gold under that hairy chest.

 

Satchi, i guess she had the "usual" MIL who wud hav hated her for the said traits alone:bonk she wud hav been straight forward dil. i cant think that any mil wud take it...as well the write up is drenched in sarcasm explains a huge experience with MIL:exactly: i believe that she wont be the "usual" MIL to her dil/dils...