My son is grown up now. I must get him married. After all, our grandson should carry on our bloodline. After a lot of hassle, I finally found a perfect daughter-in-law. Her name was Masoom. She was submissive, obedient, and not career-driven like today’s girls. She would do all the household chores, do everything as per command without raising her voice, and bless my bloodline with a grandson.

However, things did not go as planned. It was five years but she could not get pregnant. I have taken her to all the doctors in my state and everyone said the same thing- my daughter-in-law was perfectly fit to conceive and the problem must be there with my son. But I knew that was not true. My blood will never have faults as grave as this. So, both I and my son tortured Masoom for not bearing a son. Masoom tolerated everything. She had to, as she was the one who had inflicted an incurable curse upon our family.

One day, while my son reminded her how useless she was, she raised her voice. She told my son to get a medical checkup and then she would see who was actually ‘useless’—the audacity. My son slapped her so hard that she fell off hard from the staircase.

Serves her right. But now we need to take her to the hospital. The doctors said that the injury was in her spinal cord and she was bedridden now. The Police asked her,” Ma’am, was that really an accident or did somebody push you or did anything so violent that resulted in your fall from the staircase?” Masoom looked at her parents. Those same parents who never consoled her when she was fine, would not take responsibility as now she was disabled. Masoom said,” It was an accident.” Although it was a relief in one way, we had to bear a burden for a lifetime now.

So, one fine day, as she was sleeping at night, I forced a pillow near her nose till she breathed her last. Later, my son hung her with the ceiling fan. It was a suicide. Her medical condition left her depressed.

Surprisingly, the stars favoured us again as nobody wondered how a bedridden person could hang herself. Even if it did, we were least harmed by that.

Two years passed and I am ecstatic again. My son is going to be married again, to a relatively younger girl. The girl is just how I like- submissive, soft-spoken, and does not have a career. All the rituals are now over, my son will get married tomorrow. After a hectic day, my son just fell asleep after hitting the bed. I too went to my room to get my sleep so that I could wake up early and start the wedding preparations.

However, at 3 AM midnight, I heard the sound of a pressure cooker. I wondered if my son had lost his senses and started cooking. But, when I reached the kitchen, I saw Masoom. Dressed in the bridal lehenga she wore during her wedding. Holding a baby boy.

With an innocent and ecstatic smile, she came up to me, “Maa look, I finally have a son. Your dream has come true. Maa, please hold your grandson.”

Saying so, she walked up to me, trying to hand over her son. My hands froze. I could not react. All I could do was take a step back every time she came to hand her baby boy. As I went back and back, I suddenly fell off the staircase.

I opened my eyes on the hospital bed. The Doctor said,” Ma’am, your spinal cord is injured, you are bedridden now.” The police were also there. They told me, “Ma’am, we are sorry to inform you that your son was found hanging with the ceiling fan. As per our investigation, nobody had the motive to kill him. So, we concluded that he must have committed suicide.”

.    .    .