Munemma’s spectacles were broken, with one side of the frame snapped. Without them, even simple tasks in the kitchen became a struggle. She requested her younger son to buy her a new pair.

"I don’t have money. Expenses have skyrocketed. If you wait a few days, there might be an offer, or if we manage to sell the mattress we recently bought, I’ll get you the spectacles," Ramanuja, the younger son, said dismissively, turning down Munemma’s request.

Instead of outright refusing, he softened his denial by mentioning an offer or the mattress sale. His words made Munemma hesitate—she no longer felt like asking again.

 

***

​

​"Have you seen Mom?" Pramila asked her elder brother, pointing to their mother wearing the broken spectacles.

"Why are you still wearing those broken spectacles? Don’t you have another pair?" Suraj, her elder son asked, his voice rising.

"They were bought long ago, and they don’t suit my eyesight anymore," Munemma explained, hoping her elder son would understand and get her new ones.

"No matter how many spectacles I buy, it's always the same. Didn’t I get you a new pair just during the lockdown?" He stressed the word I. "Not just spectacles—I’ve also bought three pairs of headphones till now."

His tone carried an unspoken message, one that Munemma, her younger son, and her daughter instantly grasped.

"He says he doesn’t have money! Claims he'll buy them once the mattress is sold," she relayed her younger son's excuse.

"When will that mattress even be sold? You’re leaving for the village in two days anyway, so just get them there," he said, issuing his words like a command.

But soon after, plans changed—his elder daughter-in-law’s relatives were visiting, and the village trip was postponed. For the past month, Munemma had been managing by alternating between her broken spectacles and the old pair, struggling but enduring.

 

***

 

"Mother-in-law’s spectacles are broken, and she’s struggling a lot. When will you get her a new pair?" his wife pleaded with Suraj.

"I know when to get them, but for now, get me some water. I have a meeting," he said, brushing the matter aside.

"If we keep ignoring this, she won’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t struggling. She’s finding it really hard without her spectacles. How can we all be here and still let her suffer like this? How many times will she have to ask? That’s why she’s managing with the broken ones. If you don’t get them for her, I’ll use the ₹1,000 you transferred to my account the other day and order her spectacles online myself," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

"When he was told that the spectacles were broken, he said he’d get them when there’s an offer or after selling the mattress. Why does he need an offer for something that costs just ₹1,000? If it were for his child, would he wait for an offer or a discount?

He has so much love for his four-month-old baby, but why doesn’t he feel the same sense of responsibility for his 50-year-old mother? The moment he heard about the broken spectacles, he should have ordered a new pair immediately.

His father is no longer here; only his mother remains. If he can’t even fulfill her basic needs, what’s the point? Is she asking for wealth? For property? All she needs are food, clothes, and necessities. If even those aren’t provided, then what kind of care is this?" Suraj's voice trembled with anger.

"I don’t know about all that. But why are you being so stubborn? I’m just sitting here doing nothing, thinking it would be wrong if I ordered the spectacles myself. Otherwise, I would have placed the order long ago. Isn’t it an emergency for Mother-in-law? Please order them quickly. Please, please," she pleaded; her voice filled with urgency.

Suraj smiled. "People say daughters-in-law don’t care, but every family deserves one like you," he said, gently pinching his wife’s cheek.

She ignored his words and asked again, "When will you get the spectacles?"

"They’ll be done. Just wait for two more days. Let’s see if he gets them or not. At least we should find out, right?"

"There you go again! Please don’t say all that in this matter. Just get Mother-in-law’s spectacles as soon as possible."

"Alright, fine! I’ll get them myself," Suraj finally agreed.

 

***

"He may not understand because he's younger, but you are the elder. Taking care of Mother is your responsibility. Should we wait for them to realize it, or should we do what’s right?" his wife said firmly.

Suraj felt a wave of guilt. He was lucky to have such a wise and caring wife. Without another word, he went to his mother and asked, "Did he say he would buy the spectacles or not?"

"He says he has no money. I asked once, and I won’t ask again. A mother shouldn’t have to beg her own children. I might ask you, but never him. He speaks too harshly," Munemma said, her voice heavy with sadness.

 

***.

 

Suraj was lost in thought after hearing his mother’s words.

Both he and his brother were earning, yet their mother had to struggle for something as basic as a pair of spectacles worth just a thousand rupees. The realization hit him like a blow, filling him with guilt and shame.

Was loving one’s children, fulfilling their every wish, and providing them with comfort enough? Just days ago, when his child fell sick, he rushed to the hospital without hesitation. But when his mother’s spectacles broke, there was no urgency, no action. Why was there such a difference?

"I'm no less at fault," Suraj admitted to himself. "Why did I assume that only my younger brother should buy the spectacles for our mother? I spent thousands on my wife’s relatives without a second thought—would a mere thousand rupees for my mother really make a difference?

I made a mistake too. My first duty is to care for my mother. How could I forget that and act so indifferently?

Sometimes, no matter how wise a person is, their mind becomes clouded. Perhaps this was one such moment."

How many hardships had she endured? How many insults and humiliations had she faced? A society that judged her, questioned her, and placed obstacles in her path simply because she had no husband—just thinking about it made him sleepless.

Yet, despite it all, she never let her children feel the absence of a father. She raised them with love and strength, ensuring they never lacked anything. She turned their mistakes into lessons, not punishments, guiding them with patience and care.

Even when relatives and society doubted whether children without a father could be disciplined, she stood firm, her determination unshaken.

Every parent sacrifices their own needs, setting aside their desires just to ensure their children have everything. And now, his younger brother was following the same path—prioritizing his child while neglecting their mother.

"Caring for your children is important, but how can one forget their parents?"

Tears welled up in Suraj’s eyes as painful truth dawned on him. How many elderly people had broken spectacles, held together by a string on one side? How many silently endured, never asking again after being refused once?

At that moment, he saw himself in the children who had let their parents suffer.

 

***

 

"Tell him to order online. I'll pay for it," Suraj told his mother.

A few days later, Munemma sat near the window, wearing her new spectacles, a soft smile on her face as she played with her younger son’s child. The joy in her eyes was unmistakable.

Suraj watched quietly, his heart heavy with emotions. Those spectacles weren’t just about clearer vision—they were a symbol of care, of responsibility, of love that had momentarily been forgotten. As tears welled up in his eyes, he promised himself that he would never let his mother feel neglected again.