The whims of her mother-in-law
Ever since Athuzhaai had moved in with her husband and his parents, she had not experienced a moment of rest.
“Athuzhaai, come here!” her mother-in-law yelled.
The sun had almost set and Athuzhaai was tired after a day full of work. But she still obligingly ran over.
“I need you to go fetch water for tomorrow, Athuzhaai,” her mother-in-law instructed, in between a yawn “Look, I need both of these buckets filled up, okay?”
Athuzhaai politely replied. “The lake is so far away from here and by the time I get back it’s so dark out. The trees look like silhouettes of ghosts, and it scares me to be out that late.”
Her mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? It’s scary, huh?” she asked, feigning sympathy. “Too bad, because who else do you expect to do it? Me?” She giggled as if the mere thought of it was outrageous. “Now, stop talking and get going to the lake. The water is not going to fetch itself, you know? If you hate household work so much, your poor old father should have sent a servant along when he married you off. Oh! I forgot! He can’t afford one, can he?”
The scorn with which she said the last part burned through Athuzhaai’s heart. Without speaking a word, she picked up the two buckets and left for the lake.
Father’s advice
The next morning, after finishing all her chores, Athuzhaai went to visit her father.
Maha Purna comforted his daughter. “Your mother-in-law is right. We can’t afford a servant. But, don’t worry, my dear. You go to your brother Ramanuja, okay? He’ll help you out for sure.”
Ramanuja—the head acharya of the Srivaishnava sampradayam—was Maha Purna’s direct disciple, so he and Athuzhaai had always looked upon each other as siblings.
After catching up with her father, Athuzhaai rushed to Ramanuja’s ashram.
“Athuzhaai! Come in, come in,” Ramanuja greeted warmly as he opened the door for her. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Anna,” she said, following Ramanuja inside. “It’s just that I have a lot of work to do at my in-law’s house. I have to fetch heavy bucket loads of water from the lake every night, and it’s really so scary to walk so far out in the dark all by myself. But, Anna, you know what my mother-in-law said yesterday when I told her that? She ridiculed my father, your acharya, for not being able to afford a servant.” She shook her head, blinking back tears. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Ramanuja smiled softly. “Athuzhaai, look, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry. I’ll send you a servant. You won’t have to do all the housework anymore.”
Athuzhaai beamed. “Thank you so much, Anna. You’re so kind.”
The mysterious servant
As Athuzhaai lifted a heavy pot off of the stove, she heard a loud knock on the door. Her mother-in-law went to open it.
“Who are you?” she heard her mother-in-law ask.
“I am your new servant, sent here by Athuzhaai’s family,” a male voice said. “Please let me know what I should do.”
Athuzhaai’s mother-in-law cocked an eyebrow, surprised. She wasted no time assigning chore after chore to the servant. At last, Athuzhaai found some time for herself.
One evening, a Srivaishnava scholar was giving a detailed discourse on some scripture outside Athushaai’s street. Her father-in-law was part of the small audience. Just then, Athuzhaai’s servant was leaving for the lake.
When the servant came into the vicinity of the scholar, he immediately stopped walking. The scholar’s interpretation of the scripture was absolutely erroneous.
“Wait,” the servant said, “this explanation is not correct.”
Athuzhaai’s father-in-law scoffed. “What are you, a mere servant, going to know about these great scriptures and their complex commentaries? Now remain silent and behave as a servant should. I’m listening to this discourse.”
Instead of responding, the servant began patiently expounding the true meaning of that specific scripture.
Jaws dropped as the audience heard his profound explanation. Even the scholar who had been initially giving the discourse was spellbound.
The father-in-law clasped his hands. “Who are you?”
The servant smiled gently. “I am the disciple of Bhagavad Ramanuja, and my name is Dasharathi.”
A mixture of intrigue and panic left Athuzhai’s father-in-law speechless. The servant that he had been ordering around all this time was the direct disciple of Ramanuja himself? And how did Athuzhaai have all these connections? Questions flooded through his mind, but he ignored them all and just fell flat at Dasharathi’s feet.
“Please,” he said as his voice shook, “please, forgive me for having disrespected you in such a way.”
But even as he returned home to Ramanuja’s ashram later that day, Dasharathi didn’t feel even slightly humiliated for having worked as a servant. It was simple to him. Ramanuja, his acharya, had told him to help Athuzhaai out as a servant. It didn’t matter to Dasharathi that he was an expert scholar deserving of immense respect; he didn’t even mention it to a single person until it was brought up. All that mattered was implicitly obeying his acharya’s wishes.
And ever since that day, Athuzhaai’s mother-in-law—reformed after her eye-opening experience with Dasharathi—pampered Athuzhaai endlessly and never made her do unreasonable amounts of housework again.
