“Did she hurt you?” Mohan’s mother asked, her worried eyes scanning her son’s face.
He thought back to the early days of his marriage, when his wife’s wild rages had her smashing crockery, ripping the sheets, sending watches, forks and vases his way.
“No, Mother,” he staidly replied, nodding at the memory. “She always missed.”
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
Vox populi