The Dishwasher That Liberated Me (And Why Premarital Counselling for bride, groom and in-laws is a MUST)

Picture this: I land in Canada, and even before buying a couch or TV, I made sure—dishwasher toh hona hi chahiye. Not for the luxury. But for survival. This little metallic genie gave me back 2-3 hours of my life daily. It became my silent maid, my unpaid intern, my stainless-steel therapist.

But it also became my lens—the lens that revealed the invisible, unpaid labour of Indian daughters-in-law. The kind that quietly scrubs away her dreams between breakfast and dinner.

The Full-Time Job No One Acknowledges

Let’s break it down:

• Multiple rounds of morning chai by 8 am.
• Start breakfast prep by 8:30 am.
• Lunch served by 1:30 pm.
• Tea time at 5.
• Dinner prep from 6:30 to 9:30.
• Repeat. Every. Single. Day.

And this isn’t including cleaning, laundry, guests, elder care, or homework help. Even with maids—the Indian kitchen is a full-time battlefield.

And guess what? If she also works outside the home, this becomes her second shift. And her income is happily discussed in family meetings as a community fund. She is expected to contribute family events and home purchases, pay for spouse’s sibling weddings—and it all happens subtly under the label of love and tradition. No one asks her if she wants to invest, save, or grow her financial knowledge. This is financial abuse disguised as family bonding. And if she dares to question it? She’s labelled selfish or worse, “not adjusting.”

Meanwhile, the husband’s life remains largely unchanged—same friends, same job, same freedom. The wife, on the other hand, is now juggling school drop-offs, office meetings, lunch prep, elder care, and unsolicited judgment from relatives. She becomes the house’s unpaid manager, with no sick leave, no recognition, and no exit plan.

The Real Questions No One Asks Before Marriage

When I came to Canada and set up my first home, I promised myself—never again would I become the invisible woman in the house. The dishwasher wasn’t a luxury—it was a declaration. That I value my time, my energy, and my dreams. That I’m not a machine. That I, too, deserve rest.

In India, I had witnessed this cycle too many times. Women waking at dawn, putting others before themselves till midnight. No weekends. No breaks. Just endless service. And when things went wrong? Her parents were told to “understand and explain to their daughter.” She was expected to endure. To survive.

So, I say this to every bride-to-be: before you say yes, ask the questions that matter. You’re not being rude—you’re being wise. You’re not difficult—you’re just determined to live, not just exist.

Ask this:

• Will I have access to household help, or is the kitchen my permanent post?
• Will I be judged or controlled for my choice of clothes?
• Will I be supported in my career, or will it depend on family permission?
• Are decisions about children ours as a couple—or theirs as a family?
• If I fall sick, will I be cared for or expected to still run the kitchen?
• Are there financial expectations during Diwali, weddings, or house renovations?
• Can I go back to school if I wish? Will someone help with the kids?
• Am I expected to be the full-time nanny, nurse, cook, and therapist?
• If I’m earning, do I get a say in how that money is spent?
• Are there fixed hours I must cook, or is there flexibility?
• Will I be included in big decisions, or only asked to serve tea to those who are?
• If I raise concerns, will I be heard—or mocked?
• Will I be treated with more respect than the maid—or less?
• When the maid takes a day off, will everyone help or just look at me?
• What are the expectations regarding my husband’s siblings? Will I raise them too?
• Are there non-negotiable kitchen rituals I must follow?
• If surprise guests show up, am I expected to magically serve a feast?
• Will I have my own bank account? Can I make my own investments?
• Will I need permission to go for a drive or dinner with friends?

These aren’t outlandish. They are essential. Because what begins as “adjustment” can quickly become a life sentence. It’s heartbreaking that even today, a woman is the one expected to leave everything—her home, her comfort zone, her support system—and start anew in her husband’s household. Ideally, every newlywed couple should live independently, build their own routines, make their own mistakes, and grow together. But due to social norms and economic constraints, it’s the bride who ends up shouldering the cost of this adjustment. A roof over her head comes with an invisible contract—to conform, obey, and silently serve. If she dares to live life on her own terms, she must be ready to argue, resist, and endure friction every single day.

Why Indian Men (and Families) Must Wake Up

Dear fathers, brothers, husbands, and in-laws—if you’re reading this:

• Silence is complicity. Speak up.
• Respect is not shown through gifts; it’s shared responsibility.
• “She should adjust” is outdated. Try “We’ll adjust too.”

It’s time we stop glorifying female suffering as virtue. It’s time we stop dismissing burnout as normal. A woman’s place is wherever she chooses, not where she is pushed to serve endlessly.

The Way Forward: Boundaries, Clarity, Courage

To every bride: make a list of non-negotiables. Write your own job description. If it includes unpaid labor, 16-hour shifts, no decision-making power—don’t sign it.

• Say, “I cook for 2 hours, not 12.”
• Demand emotional and financial respect.
• Attend premarital counselling—with your future in-laws.
• And learn to say “No” with grace and firmness.

To parents raising sons: teach them to do their laundry, manage groceries, and hold a spatula like they hold their phones. Let’s raise a generation of partners, not bosses.

Call to Action:

If you’re planning a wedding, plan your future too. And that starts with asking the uncomfortable questions today. Share this post with your daughter, sister, friend—or your future in-laws. Maybe, just maybe, the dishwasher can be the start of a revolution. Change takes time—but silence delays it even further. It all begins with a conversation, and that conversation can start with you.