A man,
working far from home,
returns on leave
to the warmth of his parents’ waiting arms.
His parents greet him
With love wrapped in complaints—
how the house feels hollow,
how their bones are tired of waiting.
how the walls echo with chores undone.
no one to stir their favourite dishes,
no one to walk beside them to the market,
No one to sit quietly in hospital queues.
The son listens and he speaks gently,
“I cannot stay. My work is away.
If you wish, you can come with me”.
They scoff softly—
“Who asked you to stay?
And we are not leaving our home”.
We just need someone… Someone…
to look after us…to manage the home.
You know… someone like—”
And they left the sentence unfinished.
But it hangs in the air,
heavy and familiar.
He smiled and said, “I understood.”
“Before I go, I’ll fulfil your wish.”
“The one who may stay will come tomorrow”
He said while serving the dish.
“If your heart says no, please don’t hesitate—
A wrong choice leaves a deep scar.”
The couple dreamt of wedding bells,
bangles in the kitchen, anklets on the staircase
a new voice filling the gaps that
Their son’s absence leaves.
They woke up early, swept the yard,
Lay fresh flowers at the door,
prepare sweets, and wait —
for welcoming the bride.
A knock. They opened the door—
Stand still. Their smiles fade.
Not because of the stranger,
But because of their shattered expectation.
Their expectation met reality in the
quiet space between tradition and time.
She was not their bride, draped in customs,
but a caregiver, hired, trained and paid.
She’s not a daughter-in-law.
Not a replacement for the one they imagined.
And she won’t bend under the weight
of generations of unpaid labour.
She’s just a person — doing a job,
no man was ever asked to do.
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