I was groomed well from the very beginning. The society had taught me how to be good as a woman even before I truly had turned into one. The secret, of course, was to be a good wife. One that I had become the moment I entered my new home, the house of my husband.
I knew he was the man of the house and listened to everything he said, gave him everything he wanted. He was the king, period. When he was sick and lying on the hospital bed, I was there, taking care of him and never leaving his side. When he was infuriated over some event at the office, I would listen patiently as he rambled on and on for hours. I made his favourite cuisines, even if I had to wake up super-early to do so. I, indeed, was the classic example of a good wife.
My daughter might have felt a tad bit neglected over the years, but that was a necessary sacrifice on my part. After all, she was a girl, perhaps it was a good thing she got to learn adjustment and compromise from the every beginning, it would ensure a peaceful future for her. Oh, wonderful. A good wife and a good mother, I was brilliant. Handling the house as well as a job could never be easy for any woman, priorities had to be set for my own sanity. I was pretty clear as to how my days needed to be. I woke up early and prepared breakfast and lunch for myself and my husband. For my daughter, I boiled some milk and also prepared two eggs if time permitted. I tried to ensure that my daughter got a good breakfast, afterall, the only time she had a meal after that was during dinner. Her own mistake, to be frank. It’s not my fault that my husband and daughter have such contradictory tastes when it comes to food and ofcourse, expecting me to make a separate dish for her would simply be too much. It is pretty simple, she should eat her father’s desired dish that I have prepared, or make food on her own because I simply do not have the time. The petulant brat still hasn’t learnt though. She would starve for the day but never take a step into the kitchen, such a disgrace, who on earth would marry her? Over the years, it seems, she has gotten used to having only one good meal per day. Well, good for her. My husband understands that this is not my fault, so of course I’m doing nothing wrong. Oh but ofcourse, occasionally when she starts crying and acting like a cranky angry woman because of hunger, I make all her favourite dishes.I am a good mother after all. I make it a point, though, to not make them again any time soon after that. I don’t want her to get habituated with me making her special dishes, what if she starts expecting it every time? We can’t have that, can we?
My schedule is pretty hectic, when I come home after a tiresome day at work I take a 1 hour nap and then immediately get onto the cleaning task. My husband is rather messy, to be frank, and oh well, so am I. However, ever since my daughter shifted to her college dorm I’ve found a cheat move. I take all of the abandoned clothes, files and every rubbish from the living room and our bedroom and deposit them in her room. It is rather convenient, she isn’t here now, is she? Anyway, she deserves it. Even when she was home, she never helped me clean the house, that spoilt brat. I felt obligated to give her a thrashing everyday because of the same. She was such a horrible daughter, I tell you.
Now, 10 years later, I really wonder if she truly was that horrible. She had endeavoured to be a friend at times, I just never had the time. I wish I had though, what I would do now to get a glimpse of her. Not a glimpse of some photograph she uploaded on facebook but an actual live glimpse. She stopped visiting after her second year in college, even spent the vacations interning at some place or the other. Once she got placed she moved to a huge city situated at the other corner of the country. Never came back since. She sends us a nice hefty sum every month, also calls us once a week to know if everything is fine; a conversation too short for my liking. I wish things were back to normal, the normal that was 10 years back.
I wonder where I went wrong.