I am yet to come out of the pleasant shock of the overwhelming response I got from the wonderful ladies for my mothers-in-law and dinosaurs thread. Don’t you think that it is quite natural for me to bask in that glory for some more time? Last time we just saw the raw, brutal survival power of the dinosaurs and used that as a metaphor to partially understand the power of one’s mil. This time we will go into the qualities. I hear booing and shouting, “No Varalotti, not again. No more marketing gimmicks. You cannot have us every time. We are surely going to cry Wolf now.” Mesdames, please trust me and wait till I finish the thread. If you then feel that I showed Aishwarya Rai’s photo and then at the time of marriage brought in Bindu Gosh, then you can do to me whatever you like to. Now read on. I have observed, that barring some golden (or diamond, platinum or if you can think of something rarer still, better) exceptions, mils reject their dils. I used to wonder, how can women have two extreme faces, the mother’s face from which flows unconditional love and the mil’s face from which is spewed absolute hatred. (Well, I have already talked about the exceptions. What I forgot to mention earlier was that all the mils who are ILites fall into the golden, platinum and diamond classes). In one extreme case I found a lady showering love on her own niece till she got married. Unfortunately she got married to her own son. And then she took the mil’s avatar and began treating her niece as any other mil would treat her dil. Even the so called good, reasonable, kind mils tend to reject their dils first. The dil has to fight her way to her mil’s heart. In some cases the fight is endless. Many reasonable mils tend to accept their dils after about five years. There is another phenomenon I observed. Mils living with their dils in a joint family set-up take, on an average, much longer time to accept their dils than mils living away. About an year ago one ILite was explaining to me the kind of ill-treatment she suffered at the hands of her mil. It went to such an extreme that at one point even her children’s lives were at risk, she told me with tearful eyes. But when the mil became pretty old, she realised her dils worth. When other children offered to take her with them she refused them all and insisted that she would live only with the dil whom she ill-treated earlier. The acceptance of dil came way too late. But for the dil, it was a glorious, defining, touching moment. She took care of the old lady like her own mother till her death. Now it’s time we jump on from Ammavasai to Abdul Khadar. I mean the second word in the title. So let’s leave the mils alone for a while.