I always say I had an arranged marriage — not to my husband, but to my mother-in-law. Years ago, before I married my husband, he remarked that his widowed mother might one day come to live with us.

Having grown up in Canada and not being terribly knowledgeable at that time about India, I’d never heard about the so-called “curse of the mummy-ji” and I barely knew his mother at all.

And unlike Veena Venugopal, who in The Mother-in-Law only seems to have met jaw-droppingly awful examples of the species, my experiences with my own and other peoples’ mothers-in-law appear to have been far more pleasant.

But back to the story of my mother-in-law — I didn’t really give too much thought about her staying with us because I’d always liked the concept of family — in my view it was always the more, the merrier — and my grandfather had lived with my family until his death. Still, I hadn't realised how much of a debt of gratitude I would owe my mother-in-law until she came to take up residence with us in London on the birth of our son — leaving her Kerala home, relatives and friends.

Safe hands When I had to go to work, I always knew my son was in safe hands. She adored children and caring for her own grandchild was a particular delight.

And for my husband and I, her presence was nothing short of a godsend. We would have been totally knackered if we’d had to follow the arduous routine of most unlucky British parents — get him bathed, fed, dressed, off to the daycare centre, go to work, fetch him, make dinner and get him to bed.

With my mother-in-law there, all I had to do was get myself off to work. Alexander toddled down to have breakfast with her and they read, played, watched Teletubbies , Bob the Builder and the Tweenies , staples of British pre-school TV viewing, and generally had a good time while we were at work.

Having my mother-in-law live with us gave me freedom. I had all the joys of being a mother without the worry. Never did I have to concern myself with getting a babysitter or fret about whether he was in good hands. Children, also get a much richer childhood with different generational inputs.

And our own equation has been wonderful — she has been supportive, loving and good fun. In fact my mother, who was cosseted by my mother-in-law on her visits, once said my mother-in-law looked after me better than she ever had done!

Have I taken advantage of her? In the midst of our conversations and gossip about life, household doings, books and politics, I’ve asked her whether she ever felt that. She has always replied life might have become boring if she’d stayed on her own and that it’s certainly never been boring with us.

Later, when we moved to India, she looked after the household while we worked, keeping an eagle eye on my son, his homework, the meals and who was doing what.

And my husband was equally welcoming to my family. When my father fell ill with a galloping case of Parkinson’s and my mother could no longer look after him, my husband said, “Bring him here.”

And so he came to India to live with us from a residential nursing home in Canada where he had been staying for a few months. We had a wonderful young man who looked after him for the two years till he died and my mother-in-law fussed over his meals and my son kept him entertained with a non-stop stream of cheerful chatter.

Now my mother-in-law is in her late 80s and late at night when we drink a cup of tea together, she keeps telling me she doesn’t want to be a burden. I tell her that the only burden she places on me is telling me that. I owe her so much.

The writer is South Asia editor of AFP

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