Nalini changed her approach. She realized that overtly defending Rohan only strengthened Priya's resolve to dominate him. If she wanted to help, she had to play by Priya's rules, but subtly alter the game.
She started participating more in the household dynamic, not by doing chores, but by managing them. Priya had often complained that managing the house and her demanding job was exhausting, despite doing zero physical labor.
"Priya, beta," Nalini suggested one evening over dinner. "You look tired. You shouldn't have to worry about whether Rohan has dusted properly or if the laundry is folded right."
Priya looked at her, suspicious. "What are you suggesting, Ma?"
"Let me manage him during the day," Nalini offered, keeping her tone light and authoritative. "You are the head of the house; you focus on your career. I will act as the manager. I will ensure his chores are done perfectly."
Priya considered this. It appealed to her desire for order without the mental load. "You won't go soft on him?"
"I will ensure he follows your rules strictly," Nalini promised.
The next day, Nalini began her new role. When Rohan started his dusting, Nalini followed him.
"Rohan, you missed a spot behind the television," she said, her voice commanding, mimicking the tone she had heard Priya use, though lacking the underlying venom.
Rohan jumped, startled. He turned, his heavy earrings swinging. "Yes, Ma. Right away."
He scurried to clean it. Nalini watched, feeling a pang of guilt, but pushed it down. She had a plan.
Over the next few weeks, Nalini became the supervisor. She found faults, she demanded redos. "The daal needs more salt, Rohan," or "These shirts aren't ironed crisp enough."
Rohan took the criticism with characteristic submissiveness, bowing his head and murmuring, "Yes, Ma. I am sorry, Ma. I will fix it."
Priya, noticing the impeccably run household and her mother's apparent embrace of the dominant role, relaxed her grip slightly. She stopped inspecting every corner herself, trusting her mother to enforce the rules.
One afternoon, after a particularly demanding inspection of the kitchen, Nalini sat down at the dining table. Rohan was scrubbing the counter, looking exhausted. His makeup was slightly smudged from the heat of cooking.
"Rohan," Nalini called out softly.
"Yes, Ma?" He hurried over, kneeling instantly.
"Your bindi is slightly crooked," she said, reaching out. Instead of a harsh reprimand, she gently adjusted the red dot on his forehead. "There. And the kohl under your left eye is smudged."
She handed him a tissue. He took it, looking confused by the gentle gesture mixed with the critique of his feminization.
"Thank you, Ma," he whispered.
"You work hard, Rohan," Nalini said quietly, making sure Priya was still in her office. "You do a good job taking care of us."
Rohan's eyes widened. It was the first genuine compliment he had received in a long time. A small, tentative smile broke through the heavy makeup. "It is my duty to please you and the Mistress, Ma."
Nalini sighed. It was a small step, but it was a step. She was enforcing the rules, yes, but she was removing the fear and adding a touch of humanity. She was showing him that serving didn't have to mean constant humiliation.
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