Title: The Day My Wife Yelled at Me — Until She Saw My Mother Standing in the Corner - Newsbd1964

Author: S. M. Masud 

Published on: {{1-11-2025}}

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 Title: The Day My Wife Yelled at Me — Until She Saw My Mother Standing in the Corner - Newsbd1964.

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Newsbd1964 

The Day My Wife Yelled at Me — Until She Saw My Mother Standing in the Corner

As soon as I stepped into the house, my wife’s angry voice pierced the air.

“Where have you been all day?” she shouted. “I even called your office—they said you didn’t come in today!”

I hesitated for a moment before replying, “Actually… I was—”

But before I could finish, she cut me off again, her voice rising even higher.

“Don’t twist your words! I’m not stupid. And what’s in that bag? Old clothes again? Where did you get this from?”

I sighed deeply and said softly, “I went to the village… to bring my mother.”

Her expression changed instantly. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“What did you say? Your mother? You brought her here?”

There was fire in her eyes now.

“She was living with your brother, right? She could’ve stayed there! Why here? In this tiny flat where we can’t even find space for our child’s books?”

I replied quietly, “She couldn’t stay there anymore.”

My wife clenched her fists. “Do you think this place is a palace? I run this house on only seven thousand taka! Between school fees, groceries, and bills—everything falls on me! And now, another mouth to feed? An old woman?”

As her words echoed in the small room, I saw my mother sitting silently in the corner, wearing a plain white sari. Her frail hands trembled as she tried to hide her tears. Shame and helplessness were written all over her wrinkled face.

I lowered my voice and said, “My brother and his wife drove her out. I couldn’t leave her there, so I went and brought her home.”

My wife was still fuming, but when her eyes accidentally met my mother’s tearful face, something inside her shifted.

She froze. Her lips quivered.

“Maa… you?” she whispered.

My mother lifted her weary eyes and looked up. There was no anger in them—only pain and exhaustion.

“Yes, dear,” she said softly. “Your brother and his wife said I’ve become a burden. Tell me, where else could I go?”

My wife’s anger melted away. Her hands trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at me and murmured, “Why didn’t you tell me before? A mother is a mother—yours or mine, it makes no difference.”

The whole room fell silent. Even the ticking clock seemed to stop.

My mother spoke again, her voice shaking, “No, dear. I won’t stay here. Take me to the old-age home.”

Her words struck like thunder.

“What are you saying, Maa?” my wife cried in disbelief.

My mother’s weak voice continued, “A home that doesn’t have room for one mother should not have room for another. I gave birth to a son and a daughter-in-law, but perhaps I also gave birth to someone who no longer understands what it means to be a mother. The old-age home is where I belong now.”

There was no anger in her tone—only calm sorrow.

She continued, “But remember this, my child—time is the greatest judge. The way I’ve become a burden today, someday you too may become one. Only then will you understand how vast a mother’s heart has to be to forgive her children.”

My wife broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She fell to the floor, placed her head at my mother’s feet, and cried, “Maa, forgive me. I didn’t realize… A mother doesn’t just give birth to her children—she gives life to an entire home.”

My mother’s wrinkled hand rested gently on her head. Her voice trembled, “There’s nothing to forgive, dear. Time teaches everything. A mother always remains a mother—she only wishes for her children’s happiness.”

The room filled with the sound of quiet sobs. Outside, it began to rain softly, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for a forgotten mother.

A Deeper Truth Hidden in This Story

This isn’t just a story about one man, his wife, and his mother. It’s a mirror reflecting today’s reality.

How often do we see elderly parents being treated as burdens?

How many mothers cry silently behind closed doors, afraid of becoming “too much” for their children?

A house without space for a mother is not a home—it’s just walls and furniture.

Peace cannot live in a place where love and respect for parents are missing.

Our parents gave us everything—sleepless nights, sacrifices, love beyond measure. Yet, as they grow old and fragile, we forget that they, too, need care, comfort, and dignity.

When a child forgets their mother’s tears, the blessing in that house fades away.

But when a home welcomes a mother with love, that house becomes sacred—filled with unseen grace and peace.

Lessons from the Mother’s Words

The mother in the story said something unforgettable:

> “The way I’ve become a burden today, someday you too may become one.”

It’s not a curse—it’s a truth. Life is a circle.

One day, the roles will reverse. The hands that once held us will grow weak, and ours will need to hold them.

If we treat our parents with respect and love, our children will learn from our example. But if we neglect or insult them, that same behavior will echo back to us.

Because the universe has a strange way of balancing things.

Why a Mother Is More Than Just a Parent

A mother isn’t just a person who gives birth. She’s the warmth of the home, the silent force that keeps everything running, the first teacher of love and sacrifice.

She carries us in her womb for nine months, nurtures us for years, and then spends the rest of her life worrying about us.

Even when we shout at her, she forgives.

Even when we forget her, she remembers.

Even when we push her away, she prays for us.

There’s no love purer, no blessing greater, and no loss deeper than that of a mother.

Modern Life and Forgotten Parents

In today’s fast-paced world, people chase money, success, and comfort.

But what’s the use of success if it comes at the cost of a parent’s tears?

Old-age homes are increasing—not because parents want to go there, but because children have stopped wanting them around.

We justify it by saying we’re “busy,” or “space is limited,” or “they’ll be better taken care of there.”

But in truth, it’s our hearts that have grown smaller, not our homes.

The Real Meaning of Family

A real family is not defined by how big the house is, or how much money is earned.

It’s defined by how much love, respect, and compassion live inside it.

The story reminds us that when we make room for our parents—no matter how small the house is—it becomes a palace of peace.

But when we drive them away, even a mansion feels empty.

Final Reflection

As the rain fell outside that night, the son, the wife, and the mother shared their tears.

But those tears washed away something dark—they brought back love, understanding, and forgiveness.

The mother, who had been called a burden, became the light that healed the home again.

So, if you’re reading this today, take a moment.

Call your mother. Visit her. Hug her.

Tell her you love her—not because it’s your duty, but because she deserves it.

Because truly…

> A house without a mother’s presence can never be a home.

A life without a mother’s blessing can never find peace.