It’s 9 a.m. now and she is still in bed. Dragon has no consideration for the fact that I need her to wake up so I can give her breakfast and go to work. Despite knowing that I have a reporting hour for work, she will be offended if I’m not there to serve her breakfast. Why that rule does not include her son—who leaves early and comes late each time his mother visits—is something I don’t understand.

‘Arre modern girls, what can I say? Today was my first day here and bahu couldn’t be bothered less,’ Dragon complained to Mrs Mishra the last time she was here. I know because I heard her saying it.

It doesn’t matter that the ‘last time’ was just last month. Dragon lives in Chandigarh, and other than the Dragon-free first two months of my marriage, she has been visiting us every month.

‘Arre can you believe I have to eat cornflakes for breakfast at my age?’ she had complained the month before that.

So now I’m waiting for her to wake up so that I can serve her hot paranthas. Tomorrow onwards I’ll have to wake up an hour earlier—while she sleeps—just to make these damn paranthas. And mind you, breakfast isn’t the only inconvenience.

We are renting and the house is small, with only two bedrooms, but I love it. I enjoy sitting out in the front courtyard with my potted plants. I like how the main door is through the courtyard and opens into the drawing room and I really like the fact that though small, the house has two bathrooms. Sid takes at least forty minutes for his morning ablutions—which includes comparing stock prices, Sudoku and crossword.

I like colourful things—from upholstery to painting my flower pots—and while there’s not much stuff in the house, I try to keep it clean and pretty. Each time Dragon visits, though, I have to change the way my house looks. She prefers pastels and whites. Till last evening, Dragon’s room used to be my guest bedroom and workspace. Now it’s a cross between a shrine and a pharmacy.

All posters from my favourite films—Harry Potter, Ocean’s Eleven and Mughal-e-Azam—have been replaced with really jhakmak pictures of every Hindu god and goddess possible. After her morning bath, Dragon lights these really strong mogra incense sticks and then walks around the house fumigating everything.

If one side of that room has been taken over by gods; the other side of the room—which has my study table—is filled with every possible medication. She carries both homeopathic and allopathic medicines for every ailment she’s had and every ailment she could ever have. There’s medicine for diarrhoea, fever, cholesterol, diabetes—and even sea-sickness.