So it all started when Ranganathan, a once robust and lively man, became sick, his body now a mere shell of its former self.
Seventy-eight-year-old Ranganathan and his wife Parvati, five years younger than her husband, had never been a burden to their three daughters. This had always been a source of relief and joy for the self-centered girls.
“Appa is not in good health. We are in the process of making some critical decisions. Your presence will be solicited for that.” Parvati’s call sparked a flurry of frantic communication among the three girls, each one realizing the gravity of the situation. More than their father’s health, the three were worried about what kind of burden would fall on them.
“What is happening?”
“Don’t tell me we must arrange a home nurse for Appa.”
“Nowadays, I hear they charge 800 rupees per day for a twelve hours duty. Do Amma and Appa have that kind of money?”
The three put forward postulates and theories, but arrived at no authentic answers and finally decided to visit their parents that evening.
The three initially inquired about Appa’s health out of formality and went inside to peruse the passbooks and other bank-related stuff.
“Have you checked Appa’s bank balance?” Shyamala, the eldest daughter, asked her sisters, Meghna and Nidhi, in a hushed tone.
“Has he sufficient savings for his treatment?”
“Is there enough for Mom to survive after Appa’s death?”
More than their concern for their parents, the worry of having to pool in finance was gnawing at the minds of the three daughters.
No one looked at the fragile man lying on the bed, struggling to breathe. Everyone was busy rummaging through the cupboards for the passbook and Fixed deposit certificates. They conveniently forgot that their mother had mentioned discussing something important.
“Oh God!” Shrieked the eldest daughter, Shyamala, staring at the passbook in her hand, disbelief written all over her face. “Look, Meghna,” She called out to her younger sibling for testimony. “Appa has hardly twenty-two thousand in this bank.” The shock in their voices was evident.
“Amma, in which other bank does Appa save his money? And where are the fixed deposit receipts? I thought he also had some post-office savings.” The youngest sibling, Nidhi, averred.
“Do you have any savings bank account or fixed deposits in your name?” Meghna pulled a pile of sheets and papers from the cupboard.
“Where has Appa ever given Amma any liberty? Forget about having invested any amount in her name? We know what a male chauvinist he has been.” Shyamala came near her father’s bed. Her mother was seated near the bed. She was gently tapping on her husband’s arms.
“Amma, we are asking you something. Do you have any investments in your name?”
Parvati did not respond. The girls shook their heads in disbelief.
“Looks like they will need someone to care,” Nidhi said cautiously.
No one spoke. Then suddenly, the three spoke together. There was chaos as each girl expressed their grievances and inability to take their parents with them.
The mother sat unfazed throughout the fiasco.
“Okay, now, if he must be admitted to a hospital, we need money.” Meghna asserted. There was silence again.
Shyamala, the banker, stood still. Meghna, the dentist, twitched her lips; Nidhi, the chartered accountant, stated she was penniless.
The family doctor arrived for the check-up.
“All fine,” His words gave respite to the three girls. “Here, I am prescribing some medicines.” He wrote down four medicines.
Four strips of medicines would be cheaper than hospitalization, so each girl came forward to go to the medical shop. Their mother quietly took the prescription from them, and they watched in awe as she diligently opened the Genius Scan app on her handset and sent it to someone. They overheard her calling someone subsequently.
“I have sent the prescription; please send the medicines soon.”
The girls began fumbling in their handbags to collect money to pay the chemist. But they saw their mother place two 500 rupee notes on the shoe rack.
She had opened the cupboard in the other room a few minutes before, which implied cash was inside. The girls rolled their eyes.
“Amma, you have become brilliant and learned to manage things properly. For a change to come over to you, Appa needed to become bedridden; otherwise, where would you have amassed so much courage and composure?”
Amma didn’t speak a word but went into the kitchen. “Are you three staying back for lunch?” She asked, opening the fridge to remove vegetables.
“We would have loved to, but will you have enough vegetables and groceries to prepare food for all of us?”
“I would appreciate it if you answered my question to the point.” The septuagenarian made herself very clear. “I need to make Appa’s kanji before preparing lunch. You three can split the job of cutting vegetables for sambhar and a curry, grating coconut, and preparing the masala for sambhar and grinding, between yourselves.”
The three threw a muddled expression. Unlike their mother, Parvati, the three girls had maids in their respective houses to cook.
“It’s okay, Amma; we will go home and have lunch.” Shyamala volunteered, echoing the other two’s views. Parvati shrugged and continued preparing kanji for her husband. The three girls rolled their eyes, gesturing towards their mother.
“You ask……..,” Meghna nudged her younger sister.
“Shhh, not now,” Nidhi glared at Meghna.
Shyamala took the reins in her hands while her siblings kept arguing about who should ask their mother about her ornaments and money.
“Amma, have you kept your ornaments in the locker? I mean, people are coming home, like the maid, the man who comes to give bath to Appa….”
“And how do you manage with the cash? Do you have time to go to the bank to withdraw? There is not much cash as we see?” Nidhi tried to sound as convincing as possible.
“Why go to the bank? We have our security Perumal to fetch the money from the ATM,” Parvati answered as she poured the kanji into a shallow vessel to cool it. She shrewdly dodged the question about the ornaments.
“Oh, no!” screamed the three girls together. “How can you trust a stranger with your ATM password?”
“Stranger?” Parvati quipped. “He has been working here for the past fifteen years. His sons, aged twelve and seven, are being tutored by me; his wife is the maid in our house, and you think he will run away with our money?”
“Okay, but how much money is there, and how many debit cards do you have?” Nidhi tried to beat around the bush and get the bank balance extracted from her mother.
“That doesn’t make any difference,” Parvati waved her hands and began feeding her husband.
The three girls decided to give up pursuing the matter. They would come some other day when their mother would be in a better mood to discuss things amiably. Today, she looked rather flustered due to Appa’s health.
As if Parvati had read their minds, she asked them to come with their children and respective spouses the following Sunday.
“Only when all of you come together will it be convenient for me to discuss matters,” Parvati stated, giving the three girls the traditional kumkum.
The three siblings looked at each other and nodded.
On their way to their houses, traveling in Nidhi’s car, they spoke of what their mother wanted to discuss in the presence of everyone.
“Amma must have thought of distributing her ornaments between us. Good, I need them as Shweta is planning to pursue medicine. That will cost me a bomb.” Shyamala averred.
“Oh ya, Ritesh wants to pursue a master’s from the US. The ornaments would be of great help to lift a loan.” Meghna asserted.
Nidhi’s children were small, in school, and had not decided about their future. But Nidhi mentally noted how to use her mother’s ornaments to set up a consultation office.
Sunday was way ahead. The week dragged on, and the three, with their respective families, reached their parent’s home.
Parvati had called them for lunch. Neither did any of them offer to help in cooking for the twelve people, nor did any of them offer to get some dish prepared from home.
Appa looked much better, though he wasn’t fit enough to come to the dining table. The sons-in-law relished the preparation, and they couldn’t help comparing the food with the blatant preparation of their cooks. The stare the three men received from their wives was hardly detrimental.
When lunch was over, Perumal’s wife came in and began emptying all the remaining food into containers that she had brought with her. The girls watched in awe as she started unloading the groceries into small plastic bags that Parvati had given her.
Clearing her throat, Parvati said, “Appa and I are leaving for Coimbatore in a couple of hours. We have rented a house in one of the senior citizens’ homes. Once we adapt well, we will sell this flat and move to Coimbatore permanently.”
“You are informing us after making all the arrangements?” Meghna almost shrieked even as her husband tried to hush her.
“Where do you girls have the time? The little time you get to spend here only goes into digging fault with Appa.” Parvati looked at the three. Nidhi was about to say something, but Parvati put up her palms and stopped her from speaking.
“Today, three of you are living life happily with your spouses because Appa has slogged throughout his life. Little did you all know that in the name of night duty, he used to work in the old-age home, taking care of elders. They trusted him. Some even gave him their ATM cards to withdraw money.” She wiped her moist eyes with the edge of her pallu.
“You three complained that day about trusting Perumal with the ATM card. What if those senior citizens had thought about Appa? It is trust that binds people, not money.”
Their father’s night duty was news to the girls. They had always thought he did double shifts four days a week. Did they even bother to realize when he took a rest? The girls squirmed at their imprudence.
“And you people call him a male chauvinist! I find no valid reason behind the accusation.” Parvati looked at her three daughters. Parvati’s sons-in-law did not know that their wives had made such stupid statements.
“As for my ornaments, I could see the concern in your voices that day,” Parvati said, her tone reeking of sarcasm.
“Whatever little I have after giving you all has been divided into three shares and kept inside the locker. It can be accessed only after the death of the last of your parents.” She may have sounded harsh, but Parvati stated things affirmatively. “And also the money part: You three grumbled that day about the dwindling finances. Don’t worry; we have enough to tide over at least for another decade and a half.”
The three girls fidgeted, feeling ashamed.
The staccato steps of their father’s walking stick made them stand up from their seats. They nervously faced their father. The hefty man had been reduced to a small figure.
“Appa, will you be comfortable at the home in Coimbatore?” Shyamala asked.
“I will be comfortable where your Amma is with me. Only pray that God lifts me before her. This lady has the grit to survive without me, but I can vouch that I cannot live even for an hour without her at this age.” His eyes had turned misty.
Parvati smiled poignantly. “When Niddhi was born, my near relatives told me that I was fortunate to have three daughters. ‘ Girls will always care for their parents well,’ they envied me. But Appa always used to say, ‘The girls are going to live elsewhere after marriage; that is their home. We both must learn to care for each other and when one of us is no longer there, the other should be firm enough not to trouble the daughters.’ And look now, your Appa is already perturbed about staying alone.”
“Let us leave this discussion here,” Meghna’s husband, Niranjan, asserted. “We are all there for you and Appa. If you plan to go to Coimbatore, you can continue for now. But it does not need to be a permanent home for both of you. And don’t sell this house in the city. You can return after you have stayed there for a while. All of us will be available here at your beck and call.”
“Forget what your daughters discussed with you,” Shyamala’s husband spoke. “And who says daughters cannot care for their parents in old age? We married your daughters, knowing very well that there was no son in this family. Am I right?” He looked at his Co-brothers. They nodded in full affirmation.
Parvati was overwhelmed to hear her son-in-law’s words.
“What time is your flight? We will drop you off.” The three sons-in-law vied with each other.
“Don’t worry. I have already booked the cab,” Parvati smiled as the others marveled at her prudence.
They all escorted their aged parents to the car. “The keys of the house will be with Perumal. If any of you wish to visit, please take the keys from him. His wife will be cleaning the place regularly.” Parvati hugged her daughters and grandchildren.
“We are sorry for our behaviour. Amma, and for making detrimental statements.” The daughters muttered apologies for their behavior, but Parvati waved her hands, indicating they should forget all that.
A mother’s heart is magnanimous enough to pardon her children.
(This story has been featured in the magazine Woman’s Era September 2025 issue.)