It's difficult to accept someone else stepping into your mother's shoes, but stepmothers too have to make tough adjustments

It was the wicked stepmother who ordered the huntsman to cut out Snow White's heart; it was the wicked stepmother who banished Cinderella to the attic to ensure that she would not be able to go to the ball. Right from the formative stage of our lives, we are fed fairy tales where the stepmother is the villain or, to be more precise, the vamp. She's the one who tries to make your existence hell; who makes you scrub the floor and wash the dishes; who tries to come between you and your father. But not always.

My sister and I lost our mom to cancer when we were still in our teens. The loss was nothing short of devastating. It was as if our regular supply of oxygen had been ripped off and we were being forced to gasp through the motions of living. We tried to pretend that the caresses and conversations our friends shared with their mothers were not painful to us. It was like waking up every morning just to realise that there was a bottomless void in our lives; an emptiness that would never cease to exist. And there was that indescribable ache in our father's eyes which constantly haunted us.

In this entire scenario another person came into our lives. Our step-mom. At that point I lamented why 'we' were being forced to adjust to a completely new person just when we had lost the one person whom our lives revolved around. But in all our emotional turmoil, we gave little thought to what a Herculean adjustment my step-mom had to make.

Here we were — two teens, in the most trying phase of our existence. Compromise was a word unknown to us. Yet, with an open mind she came into our lives and waived aside many of our idiosyncrasies, youthful pessimism and juvenile habits. She was there for us when we went through our boy trouble; she pleaded our case to our father on several occasions; she made sure we married the right people; she rejoiced at our weddings; she held my hand as I screamed through labour and cried unashamedly when she held her grandchild in her arms. And through it all she held my father's hand.

To recount all that our stepmother has done for us, in one article, would not only be an injustice but also an impossibility. But from all that she has given us, perhaps the most precious gift was the opportunity of calling someone 'Maa' again, and that was something we had yearned for intens ely.

It would be misleading and too simplistic to say that my step-mom fitted into the role of a mother effortlessly and that we accepted her readily. Nobody can replace one's mother, but she did her best to be a mother to us in every way despite the compromising situation she was placed in.

Today, when my sister and I are married and caught up in a life furiously revolving around our careers and families, it is my step-mom who is my father's true confidant, companion and strength. She is the one who treats me to a steaming home-made lunch when I drop in with my daughter unexpectedly; she's the one who baby-sits my three-year-old when I'm caught up in my endless social engagements. She is the one who patiently counsels my younger sister over the phone, who is married and living in another part of the world.

This article is to reach out to all those who have lost their mothers and have had to accept someone else stepping into their mother's shoes. It is unthinkable to live a life without a mother; and more so to accept someone else in that sacred role.

Most children and teens have a thoroughly venomous image of a step-mom drilled into their heads thanks to the stereotypes that our society is resplendent with. But there are many step-moms out there who have carefully and patiently picked up the pieces of the lives of many motherless children and taught them how to smile again. This article is a homage to all such selfless step-moms.

When my father married again, a lot of people asked my sister and I, how we were adjusting. I wonder if anyone asked my step-mom.