The Loving Patriarchy

A fancy glass set as a gift for the 25th anniversary of my parents
We all loved it for different reasons
Maa loved it for its blinding shine and grandeur
As a soldier came back in business
We all looked out for our lives
Looking at it was almost like robbing it of its piousness,
Let alone laying a finger on it
It was a gift for her, for her only
Dad came back from work with excruciating shoulders
And Maa with sticky hands took his lunch box from the driver
Rushed to the provider of the house; all three of us
Waited for Maa to lay the table for the fourth time 
As the tired labourer wished to be fed
"Ask Maa to let us use the fancy glasses naa, Please?"
The lady cook no longer confided to the disappointment
that her glamour will soon reside in trash
Broken things in this house were no strangers to her.
Nor were they a surprise
Being the studious girl that my father raised me to be
Studying in front of one of the colossal but used glasses
Struck by its delicacy and beauty
The epitome of unprecedented care and skill
Lay useless yet used 
Only to be smashed in pieces to the ground
By the work loaded arms of my father
I saw it happen. I see it happen everyday.
"Who placed this glass here?!"
My ever guilty brother came.
Left it to dry after having used it.
"I am so sorry, Papa" his bewildered self cried.
For even he was no stranger to it.
Arrogance and guilt together said
"How can you so carelessly place the glass on the table!!"
And then both went suspiciously silent 
Out came the disappointed beauty.
Scolded my brother; a mere formality
Saw her reflection in the broken glass
Came back the soldier with a broom for one last duty
For no one else would have done it.
With her ever tired hands 
She lift the heaviest broom ever
And threw the shattered pieces out of the house.
I told my Maa when the storm was over.
"You know it was his fault"
"I know, thats why my fool couldn't get one word out of his mouth"
She laughed it off gracefully.
My father was a lucky man
So was the glass.