Mumbai's men? A bunch of mama's boys

When the going gets tough, our city blokes just want to run homes to their mothers

My head's pounding and I'm running a fever. All I want to do is curl up in bed and hide under the pillows. If I was my husband, though, I could always go to his mum's house, where he'll be cosseted with a soothing ice-pack.

The curtains will be drawn, and the telephone will be on silent to make sure his sleep isn't disturbed. Now my parents are quite caring, but they're good for an Aspirin and a cup of coffee. In fact, when my husband does fall sick, more than often not, he heads to his mum's place for some TLC (like my parents, I'm good for an aspirin and cup of tea). Which only validates my belief that all Indian men are mama's boys.

Now, the Italians, I've been told, have held this honour for some time now, but I think it's time they move over and make way for our men. I don't know much about Italian men. The few I've seen were navy officers and crew aboard an Italian warship. And they looked so fetching in their white uniforms, that I'd take them all - mama's boys or not.

But I digress. I'm talking about Mumbai's men. Not only are they not as good looking as the crew aboard the ship, they're mama's boys through and through. "But I don't stay with my mum, do I?" said my husband when I broached the topic. I concede.

Besides, my husband always had to compete with my mum-in-law's dog for attention.
Our situation is an exception. A year after we got married, well-meaning family members would ask me why we weren't "staying with the family".

"That's because I like to walk around in the nude," I'd reply rather rudely. It worked. No one ever asked me that question again. And my mum-in-law, after getting a glimpse of my habits - I spent a night or two at her place once - thanked her lucky stars that I never moved in. "There'll always be space for you'll here," she once told me, "But I'm so relieved you're not staying with us," she added. I love her just for that statement.

Most men I know live with their parents, and never move out. I'm sure it's the case with all my ex-boyfriends. One of them was so petrified of his mum that he insisted I hang up if she ever picked up the call. Another wanted his mum to accompany him to every important examination.

And she did - she'd diligently wait outside the exam hall with his lunch box. Now, I'm talking about a 17-year-old, who under normal circumstances would never want to be seen alive with his parents. "But mum's different," he said, when I pointed out this anomaly.

Another ex took me to meet his mum. It was a Sons And Lovers moment. I felt like Paul's lover Miriam on the executioner's block as a sweet Mrs Morel gave me the once over. I fled the house, the mum and the man - never to return. Last I heard, he's still living with her, and she hasn't liked a single girl he's brought home.

I've yet to see an Indian man appreciate the movie Throw Momma From The Train - a satire where Danny DeVito gets Billy Crystal to get rid of his over-bearing mother. One of my exes was so distraught that he broke up with me just because I laughed. (Yes, few Indian men have a sense of humour, but that's fodder for another story).

Now it's easy to bring up the whole father-daughter bond, but I've yet to see a woman live with her dad after marriage. And I've yet to see a dad who would willingly iron his daughter's shirt and starch the collars.

Few men can stand up to their mamma, because all mums are women, and we've mastered the art of emotional blackmail. Most men, on the other hand, expect their wives to double up as mums as and when the need arises. So here's a bit of advice - Look at the mum before you get hitched.

t_anjali@dnaindia.net