Regarding My First Meeting with His Mother: My Boyfriend’s Mother Asked Me to Quit My Current Job

My name is Anika, I’m 27 years old, and I work as a communications team leader for a cosmetics company in Mumbai, earning a steady 1.5 lakh INR/month. My boyfriend is Vikram, 29 years old, a civil engineer, kind and genuinely in love with me. After almost a year of dating, he begged me to agree to go to Pune to meet his mother – Mrs. Meera.

I prepared meticulously. My gifts included a luxurious box of almond jam, imported fruit, and a box of Darjeeling tea. I chose a simple sari and wore light makeup. Vikram even said, “My mother is strict, but she’s not ugly, just be yourself.”

His house was spacious and clean. Mrs. Meera looked me up and down, giving a faint smile:

“Anika? Come in.”

The meal included a variety of dishes: chicken curry, dal, biryani rice, and stir-fried vegetables. But the atmosphere was… tense. She asked me what I did for a living, where I was from, and what my parents did for a living. I answered politely, even pouring her water and serving her food. When we were almost finished eating, she put down her spoon and said clearly:
“Anika, I’ll be blunt. When a daughter gets married, she has to take care of her family. Your high salary is good, but if you marry Vikram, you have to quit your job. Stay home and take care of the children and your husband. My family doesn’t need a daughter-in-law who works all day.”

I was stunned. Vikram also froze:

“Mom, we… haven’t discussed that yet.”

Mrs. Meera looked at Vikram and said sternly:

“Shut up. I’m talking to your girlfriend.”

I bit my lip, trying to stay calm. In my mind, I pictured myself quitting my job, abandoning those sleepless nights working on projects, and giving up my dream of buying a small apartment for my parents. I couldn’t understand why, on our first meeting, she could lay out conditions like a contract.

I set my glass down, smiling – but it was a cold smile:

“Don’t worry, Grandma, I’ll break up with him right now.”

The whole table froze. Vikram turned sharply to me:

“Anika, what are you saying?” Mrs. Meera’s face turned pale, her lips trembling:

“You… you dare…?”

I stood up, bowing politely:

“I’ll be going now.”

And just as I was about to leave… Vikram ran after me, calling out to me pleadingly…

I walked out of the house feeling both angry and hurt. My hands trembled, but I didn’t cry. I just felt… insulted. Quitting my 1.5 lakh-a-month job wasn’t for the money, but because it was the value I had built through my own efforts.

Vikram caught up with me at the gate, breathless:

“Anika! Stop… don’t leave like that.”

I turned around and looked him straight in the eye:
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. But I can’t continue like this when your mother says things like that. Vikram, I’m not even married yet and I’m already being forced to quit my job. What will happen after we get married?”

Vikram’s face turned pale. He said softly,
“Do you know why my mother hates working women? My father had an affair. My mother is the type of woman who stays at home and takes care of everything, without a job of her own. When my father left, my mother… was almost penniless. She’s traumatized.”

I froze. I said slowly,

“I feel sorry for your mother because of what she’s been through. But that doesn’t mean she has the right to dictate my life.”

Just then, the door burst open. Mrs. Meera rushed out, her face pale, her voice trembling:

“Anika… come in and talk to me for a moment.”

I went back inside. Mrs. Meera sat down:

“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” I replied bluntly:
“Yes, I’m angry. Because I feel disrespected.”
Mrs. Meera bit her lip:
“I’m sorry for speaking… too bluntly. But I’ve lived my whole life watching people break up because women go to work and neglect their families.”

I looked at her:
“Madam, women going to work doesn’t mean neglecting their families. And women staying at home doesn’t mean they’re happy. The important thing is… it has to be my decision, not someone else’s order.”

Vikram walked in, his voice hoarse:

“Mother… you’re wrong to do that. I love Anika. I don’t want her to quit her job.”
Mrs. Meera turned to him:

“If you love her, marry her and take care of her! I’m old, I just want peace in the house!”

Vikram straightened his back, and for the first time I saw him speak decisively:

“Peace in the house isn’t achieved by making others sacrifice. If you want me to marry, you have to respect my wife.”

Mrs. Meera froze. I said slowly,

“I don’t want to be the one to cause arguments between you and your son. But I can’t promise to live the way you want.”
Mrs. Meera sighed. Her voice softened, “Girls these days… are too strong.”

I replied,
“It’s not strength, ma’am. It’s because we have no other choice. If I quit my job, and something happens one day, how will I stand on my own two feet? I don’t want to live in fear like you did.”

Hearing this, Mrs. Meera’s eyes welled up. She said,

“The day Vikram’s father left, I carried him, not knowing what we would eat the next day. My biggest fear was… my daughter-in-law being left at home and abandoned.”

I understood her contradiction.

Vikram knelt before his mother, his voice trembling,

“Mother… I’m not his father. I won’t leave my wife.”

Mrs. Meera quickly pulled Vikram to his feet. He stood up and took my hand.

“Anika, I promise. From now on, I’ll set clear boundaries with Mom.”

Finally, Mrs. Meera got up, went into the kitchen for a moment, then brought out a plate of mithai (Indian sweets) and placed it on the table. That was her way of “giving in.”

She said,

“Stay and have some water before you go. Next time… you come to visit, I won’t talk about quitting your job anymore.”

I smiled – this time a genuine smile:

“Yes.”

I don’t know what the future holds. But today, I haven’t lost Vikram.

And more importantly… Vikram has begun to grow up as a real man.