On an impossibly hot and humid May afternoon, Malabika suddenly came to understand the feeling she was having. She was jealous. She was jealous of her daughter-in-law.

For the last few days she was unable to understand why she was feeling a little irritated, a little distracted, a little angry. There was no apparent reason. Her home was running smoothly, a fact that she took particular pride in. The servants were working as they should, the groceries were neatly stacked in the refrigerator, the clothes were ironed, delicious dinner was served on time, not a single cob web to be seen anywhere in her two-storied house. She never gave her husband, Saradindu, any scope for complain. The only household activity he was expected to do was to go the market to buy vegetable and fish. Saradindu knew that Malabika loved the power she had in the household and as long as she was alive and healthy there was nothing that he needed to worry about. Malabika managed the household with such consummate precision that would put an army officer to shame. She knew precisely how much mustard oil was required every month and had an uncanny feel for servants stealing from the kitchen. She showered her blessing on them but at the same time treated them ruthlessly if they were negligent in their duties. Saradindu used to tell his friends that if there is ever a Nobel Prize for home making the award should go to his wife. When Malabika heard this for the first time she was more than a little pleased inside but maintained her unperturbed exterior and said, “Dinner is ready, don’t forget your medicine.”

Yet, for the last few days her usual assured self was more than a little disturbed and she could not figure out exactly what was wrong with her. When she realized that this was nothing but old-fashioned jealousy she was hardly able to accept it. She felt disappointed with herself. She – the jealous mother-in-law? Like one of those characters in cheap television serials? For someone who is steeped in the music and writings of Tagore, who was brought up in the finest liberal tradition, was it possible to have such low, narrow emotions? Wasn’t such an emotion typical of the semi-educated and the uncultured and the unsophisticated? How could she be jealous of a woman married to her son when she herself gave her approval to her son’s choice? It was she who convinced the entire extended family that this girl would be ideal for their son. Wasn’t she the woman who made his son’s wife feel comfortable and at ease in their home? Wasn’t she the first person to tell her son and his girl friend that if they wanted they could stay in another place of their own choice? Didn’t she say that times have changed and the daughter-in-law was no more supposed to think of the mother-in-law as her boss?

When Sulagna first came to see Abhijit, Malabika’s son, when Abhijit was ill, she was introduced as a colleague. Abhijit was in fact a little surprised to see her. Sulagna was on her way back from office and had dropped in at his place to check how he was recovering from his jaundice. Malabika took less than three minutes to understand that she was not just a friend. There was no special hint, but she had her sixth sense. Abhijit later tried to explain that she was a colleague and friend whom he had met at work and they shared a common hatred for the superficialities of the IT sector. Abhijit and Sulagna were both more into cinema and novels than into latest opportunity to go abroad and make some money. “We are friends.” Abhijit explained when asked teasingly by Malabika who she was.

Malabika liked her first appearance. She was of course dressed in office wear so it was not possible immediately to understand whether she was a little too daring in terms of her clothes or not. But there was an element of good taste in the way she dressed. A confident elegance flowed through her body but she didn’t look like a snob either. Nice smile and honest pair of eyes. Malabika also liked the fact that she touched her feet when introduced. She always believed that those who have class invariably respect tradition. Malabika was soon happy to know that Sulagna was not from one of the upstart families who were too keen to move up the social ladder. Her father was a well-known advocate at the High Court. Malabika was indeed happy that while she was on the one hand a computer engineer she could also talk about Tagore’s novels, at least some of them. Once she heard Abhijit and Sulagna discussing the recent trend of “re-mix Rabindra-sangeet” and Malabika was delighted to know that Sulagna was very much in favour of preserving the original flavor of the songs rather than playing around with the music arrangement. Abhijit was strongly in disagreement. He argued that Bengalis have become too conservative and not open to experimentation and this is why they were also not able to do much in industry and enterprise. “What do you think, Mashi?” Sulagna asked Malabika. “I am more worried about preserving what we have, all that is great about the Bengali culture rather than allowing cheap vandals to destroy them.” Malabika said. “Thank you”, Sulagna said, “my words exactly, but you said it so much better.” Abhijit wisely gave up seeing the alliance between two women. He was also secretly happy that the two were bonding.

Malabika and Saradindu wanted a lavish wedding for their only son but Abhijit refused. Malabika tried to explain there are social compulsions; she has been to so many weddings herself and a minimum standard had to be maintained otherwise people would say that they were being miserly. Finally a compromise was reached. Abhijit and Sulagna won the right to have a civil marriage and Malabika won the right to have a reasonably posh reception at the Calcutta Club. Sulagna’s features particularly suited the traditional bridal make-up and everybody the guest came to Malabika and said “Mrs Mukherjee you daughter-in-law is such a stunner. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” Malabika said to Mrs Chatterjee, who was known to have trouble with her daughter-in-law that after all it is amusing how times have changed and she preferred to think of Sulagna as her friend rather than as a daughter-in-law. It was perhaps a not-so-subtle jibe at Mrs Chatterjee, that upstart socialite with medieval ideas of what a family should be like. Saradindu’s friends were particularly delighted with the quality of the mutton and the Sandesh from Nakur. The food was not a typical mish-mash but finest example of Bengali cuisine including the long-cut begoon bhaja and the topshey fry. There was of course a separate arrangement for the strictly vegetarians. The bride and the groom looked young, radiant and perfectly suited to each other. Malabika and Saradindu were busy with looking after the guests but in between hectic socializing with the guests Malabika looked at the couple sitting in the podium and felt proud of her ability to organize the wedding with clock-work precision. She also had flashes of memory of her own wedding, the elaborate never-ending ritual from selection of the bride to the moment when she first looked at Saradindu’s eyes to the moment she reached the in-law’s house, her new home.  Life after marriage never had the free-as-a-bird feeling of the college days but Malabika adjusted to her new role, slowly becoming an expert in managing the household. Ever since she has been a great believer in the word “adjustment”, which she felt is the key to a harmonious life.

Malabika made herself a cup of tea and sat down in the cane chair in the verandah. The Gulmohar tree in front of the verandah was full of red flowers which brought some relief to her eyes in the midst of the intensely hot and humid weather. Kolkata’s weather has changed so much recently. Earlier there used to be the nor’westers, thunderstorms known as kaalbaishakhi, every other day and that would bring relief in the evening. Now they have become rare. The city has become overcrowded, more polluted and chaotic. Law and order has deteriorated, the cultural world has become shallower. All the talented people have left. Saradindu sometimes jokes that the city is slowly returning to its rural origins, “Kolkata is once again becoming Sutanuti”, referring to one of the three villages which was transformed into a city by the British when they landed in this part of the world. Is the rustic shallowness all around her also getting into her mind? May be, she thought.

Two years have gone by since the marriage of Abhijit and Sulagna. After spending a year in Kolkata, they left for the US. They live in California now. It is not clear whether they would be coming back or they would settle there. Abhijit has recently written that he is missing his neighbourhood addas, facebook is somehow not his cup of tea. However he also said that Sulagna is really enjoying her life, even though life is tough there without the domestic helps. She enjoys the international environment of her office. “She has become a world-citizen,” Abhijit wrote, “while I remain a typical north-Calcuttan.” About three weeks back Malabika saw some photos of her daughter-in-law in the California beach with some of her white friends. She looked comfortable and happy in her beach wear. It was hardly possible to distinguish her from her other western friends.

Malabika couldn’t resist being jealous. As she sipped her cup of tea, she looked at the Gulmohar tree and for the first time in her life felt that she has become old. Inside Saradindu was still sleeping. She could hear his snore.