Anshu Sharma’s household buzzed with joy these days. Her father, Ashok Sharma, a middle-class government clerk, walked with a spring in his step, his face perpetually lit by a grin. His only daughter, Anshu, was set to marry Rohan Shreshth, a well-mannered IAS officer. The match seemed perfect: Rohan’s family demanded no dowry, and the wedding was to be a simple affair. For Ashok, it was a dream come true—a reputable groom for his beloved daughter, free from the shackles of societal greed.
But beneath this veneer of happiness lay a story few understood.
The Perfect Match
Anshu, 24, was the pride of her family. With a master’s degree in economics and a job at a local NGO, she was the epitome of the modern, educated Indian woman. Her parents had spared no effort in ensuring she lacked nothing—private tutors, extracurricular activities, and even a solo trip to Darjeeling with friends. Yet, in their pursuit of giving her “the best life,” they had overlooked one thing: teaching her to navigate the unglamorous realities of a traditional Indian household.
When Rohan’s father, Ram Shreshth, first visited their home, Ashok had proudly showcased Anshu’s academic certificates. Ram, a retired school principal, nodded politely but observed silently. Over the next two months, he visited thrice—unannounced, at odd hours. Each time, he found Anshu’s mother, Sudha, scrubbing floors, cooking meals, or folding laundry. Anshu, meanwhile, was either scrolling through her phone or chatting with friends. Once, when Sudha struggled to lift a heavy pot of rice, Anshu glanced up but didn’t stir. Ram’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing.
The Shattered Illusion
A month before the wedding, Ram called Ashok. The formalities evaporated quickly.
“We cannot proceed with this alliance,” Ram stated bluntly.
Ashok’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “W-What? Why?”
Ram’s voice was firm yet pained. “Anshu is educated, but she lacks sanskar. A daughter-in-law in our family isn’t just a trophy—she’s the heartbeat of the home. My wife has arthritis. Who will cook if your daughter won’t stir a spoon? Who will care for us if she sees her mother-in-law’s pain and does nothing?”
Ashok’s face paled. “But… she’s modern! These things aren’t her responsibility—”
“Responsibility?” Ram interrupted. “If she cannot empathize with her own mother’s struggles, how will she respect ours? A marriage isn’t about certificates, Ashokji. It’s about compassion.”
The phone slipped from Ashok’s hand.
The Awakening
That night, Ashok lay awake, Ram’s words echoing. Memories flashed: Sudha working late nights while Anshu studied, Sudha nursing a fever alone while Anshu attended a party. He’d never asked Anshu to help—why would he? She was his “princess.” But now, he saw the truth: his love had blinded him.
The next morning, he called Anshu to the living room. “Beta, do you know why the Shreshths refused you?”
Anshu shrugged. “Their loss. I’m educated—”
“Education isn’t enough!” Ashok’s voice cracked. “They saw you ignore your mother’s burdens. To them, that’s a failing we caused.”
Sudha wiped tears silently. Anshu froze, the reality hitting her like a slap.
A Father’s Regret
Ashok’s journey of reckoning began. He started assigning Anshu chores—cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping. At first, she resisted. “This is below me, Papa!”
“No,” Ashok replied, “this is life.”
Slowly, Anshu learned—burning rotis, over-salting dal, but persisting. One evening, Sudha smiled as Anshu served her tea. “You’re improving, beti.”
Anshu’s eyes welled. “I’m sorry, Ma. I never saw how much you did.”
The Ripple Effect
Word spread in the community. Some mocked Ashok—“Turning his IAS-material daughter into a maid!” Others reflected. At a family gathering, Ashok addressed the crowd:
“We raise daughters to be CEOs, not caregivers. But what good is a CEO who can’t mend a broken heart or cook a meal for her family? A sanskari bahu isn’t about submission—it’s about strength. The strength to love, to adapt, to endure.”
Months later, Anshu volunteered at a senior citizens’ home. There, she met Rhea, a widow whose son had abandoned her. “My daughter-in-law called me a burden,” Rhea whispered.
Anshu squeezed her hand. “Not all daughters-in-law are like that.”
Epilogue: The Lesson
Anshu never married Rohan. But years later, when she stood at her own wedding—to a kind teacher whose mother adored Anshu’s homemade gajar ka halwa—Ashok knew they’d rewritten their story.
As he blessed her, he murmured, “Remember, beti—education opens minds, but sanskar opens hearts.”
Eye opener for this generation.