Indian Marriages Fail When Men Stay Sons, Not Husbands

Some Indian men think marriage is about adding a wife to the family WhatsApp group and calling it a new life. The only problem? That group already has a CEO, his mother, and she is not retiring anytime soon.

In many Indian homes, marriage is not a partnership between two adults. It is a corporate merger where the wife becomes a junior intern under the emotional HR department run by the mother. Promotions are rare, equal say even rarer. She marries expecting a man, but gets a son on emotional speed dial to “Maa,” ready to report every detail of his day and sometimes hers too.

Mothers often say, “I gave birth to him, I raised him, I know what is best.” And they are right, until that “best” means sitting in the passenger seat of his marriage, navigating every turn. The wife is not trying to replace the mother. She just wants her own seat, her own wheel, and the ability to drive without someone honking directions from the backseat.

Before you even know about the new job offer, the minor accident, or the fight with his sister, his mother already has the update. Sometimes, you are not even the second to know. You are third, after the mother has told the aunt and the aunt has told the cousin.

It is not about gossip, it is about hierarchy. In his mind, sharing big or small news with his mother first is “natural” because she has always been the first listener. He does not realise that in a marriage, that place needs to shift. The wife expects to be the first person he celebrates with, the first person he consults, and the first person he confides in. When she isn’t, it slowly chips away at intimacy.

It is not just dal. It is an emotional minefield. If it is too thin, you do not know how to cook. If it is too thick, you are wasting ingredients. Somewhere in between lies the perfect dal that only his mother knows how to make.

It does not stop at dal. From how much salt is “right” to the exact shade of brown in the chapati, everything has an unspoken standard — “Maa’s way.” Even the arrangement of plates or the way tea is brewed can become subtle battlegrounds. Over time, these comparisons make the wife feel like she is running a franchise of her mother-in-law’s kitchen, not her own home.

If you have kids, congratulations. You have just been assigned a co-parent you did not choose. She will tell you which school is best, how to feed the baby, and why your modern parenting methods are “too soft.”

The most frustrating part? Sometimes she bypasses you entirely and instructs your husband directly on what “should be done” with the children. And because he grew up taking her word as final, he agrees without discussion. The wife, who spends the most time with the kids, finds herself defending every choice; bedtime routines, what they wear, how they study — not to her husband, but to an invisible third voice in their marriage.

You cannot compete with “I carried you for nine months” or “I sacrificed my whole life for you.” These are not just statements. They are emotional hand grenades.

It is not always direct either. Sometimes it is silence, a sigh, or a strategically timed “It’s fine, I am used to being alone now” after being told the couple will spend the weekend elsewhere. The husband, unable to bear the guilt, backtracks on plans or sides with her “just to keep the peace.” The wife ends up learning that the quickest way to lose any discussion is for the mother to enter it, because once she does, logic leaves the room.

In some families, there is no such thing as “just us.” Mothers can call at midnight, walk in without knocking, and expect to be in the loop for everything from salary discussions to bedroom furniture choices.

Sometimes it is more subtle. She may notice a new piece of jewellery and ask how much it cost, or she may see a bill lying around and comment on your expenses. She does not see it as intrusion, but as her right to know. And the husband, instead of creating boundaries, explains it away with “She is just curious” — as if curiosity is a free pass to disregard privacy.

It is not just festivals. The entire calendar year belongs to “how we do it at home.” You cannot create your own rituals because every deviation is treated like rebellion.

Even your wedding anniversary might be planned around an auspicious date she chooses, or your holidays may be decided based on which relatives “must” be visited. It is not that tradition is bad. It is that the couple’s own preferences and identity are erased under the weight of inherited customs. The wife realises she has married into a fixed calendar, not a flexible life.

Some men proudly say, “I love you both equally,” as if this alone proves fairness. But equality is not about equal affection. It is about building a separate emotional foundation for the marriage.

When the wife is expected to “adjust” so nothing changes in the pre-marriage dynamic between son and mother, she is essentially living in a pre-existing family script where her role is supporting actress. She never gets to be co-writer of the story.

Marriages do not fall apart because mothers love too much. They fall apart when that love becomes a leash, and the man holding it does not realise he is pulling his wife away in the process.

The wife’s place is not beneath the mother’s love or outside the family’s circle. It is beside her husband, sharing equal say, equal respect, and equal love. But if the husband refuses to step out of his mother’s shadow, the marriage will live there too — small, dim, and cold.

You can be the perfect son and the perfect husband, but only if you understand that these are two different jobs. Fail to see that, and one day your wife might ask the question every man should dread:

“Did I marry a partner, or just someone’s child?”