IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 131- STRESS Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

“Beji… you cannot imagine the stress I’m going through because of my board exams,” I said, trying to break my grandmother’s silence. Silence was her favorite weapon. Whenever I messed up, she would simply stop talking to me.

But over time, I had learned her weakness—challenge her thoughts, and she would eventually respond.She finally spoke. “I have seen five of my children go through board exams. I know what exam  stress is. But I am more worried about your way of handling it… by oversleeping.”

“I’m sorry, Beji… I just don’t know what else to do.”

She looked at me and said firmly,
“Physical activity, my boy. That is how you deal with stress.”

I knew what was coming next—one of her old stories. I had heard some of them ten times already.
But I was willing to listen again… if it meant she would keep talking.

She leaned back and began. “When your grandfather’s unit was slated to go for the World War II, we wives were under tremendous stress. Every evening, when the soldiers went for parade, we would gather together…”

“…and polish their web equipment and shoes—vigorously.”

She smiled faintly.

“We would gossip, laugh, complain… and by the end of it, our stress would disappear—at least for a while.”

I nodded, but curiosity got the better of me.

“But what happened after he left? You must have gone back to the village… right?”

“Of course,” she said. “And village life doesn’t leave you idle. Cooking, cleaning, tending to cattle—there was always work. But whenever we found time…”

She paused, almost mischievously.

“…we would sit in a line and pick lice from each other’s hair.”

I almost jumped.

“That’s… unhygienic, Beji! You had lice?”

She laughed.

“Back then, it was common. People washed their hair with lassi and applied desi ghee. Lice were part of life.”

Then she added, almost proudly,

“But I had started using soap after visiting the cantonment. So I didn’t really have lice… yet I still sat with them.”

I looked at her, confused.

“Then what did you do?”

She chuckled.

“I would quietly keep a couple of lice I picked… and later, place them in my own hair. Then I would ask my mother-in-law to search for them.”

I stared at her, stunned.

“Why would you do that?”

Her expression softened.

“It made her happy. She felt useful… needed. And that strengthened our bond.”

She paused for a moment, then added quietly,

“You see… she always carried the guilt of sending me away when I had tuberculosis years ago.”

I hesitated, then asked,
“So… did you ever fight with her?”

Beji looked at me as if I had asked something absurd.

“In those days, fighting with your mother-in-law was unthinkable. And I still believe…”

She leaned forward and said firmly,

“If a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law fight… both are foolish. Wise women don’t fight.”

The next day, I decided to test her theory.

I casually told my mother,
“Beji thinks you don’t have the intellect she expected in her daughter-in-law.”

My mother simply laughed.

No anger. No tension.

In fact, over the next few days…I saw no change in their relationship at all.

But there was one person I wasn’t so sure about—My father. I could only imagine…the stress he must have been under.

Sometimes, stress isn’t about the situation…
it’s about how you choose to respond.

One generation fights stress with noise, panic, and overthinking.
Another… handles it with work, laughter, and quiet wisdom.

And somewhere in between—

we are still trying to figure it out.

Jai Hind