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What
Is A Man to Do
Richa
Jha
Now
come on, cheer up. You've been like this since last night.
What is the matter?” I, the harried Hubby, am attempting
the impossible. That is, to ferret the cause(s) of resentment
from the nether regions of The Wifey's complex mind. Tell
me, has any man worth his credibility ever managed to fathom
the working of a female mind?
Yet
we don't give up trying. We want peace in the house. At
whatever cost. Therefore, when the wife is sulking, don't
watch the Wimbeldon, don't read the newspaper, don't laugh
at a joke, don't hum a tune, and don't forget to ask her
once every half hour about what's grieving her. Chances
of her beaming back are near zilch, but at least, you have
done your part.
What
else is a man to do? The tragic truth about our sex is such
that however hard we may try, we will never ever do the
appropriate thing in the eyes of our wives. Forget all together
about hearing a few words of appreciation.
“Did something happen at the party?” I persist with my peace-buying
attempts.
“I'm fine. What makes you think I'm in a foul mood?”
“Like I can't make out from your face”.
“I'm fine”.
“Did someone say something to you last night?”
“Like you care?”
“You didn't like their food? I knew it! It had to be that.
Imagine serving lasagne with noodles! When will people cultivate
refined tastes.”
“Will you cut that crap? I liked their food, their arrangement,
their everything.”
Oh,
oh! That isn't exactly music to my ears. Because if she
liked the hosts, appreciated their arrangements, and complimented
them on their food, that is bad news for me. Because it
then narrows the possible irritants down to either the maid
servant or the servile husband. The former, in this particular
case, has been on leave for over a week. Too long an interval
to cause delayed ripple effects of incorrectly done deeds
before she went on leave. Which, willy nilly singles me
out.
How
I hate these situational cul-de-sacs. Circumstances are
such (Friday forenoon, deluge outside) that I have no option
but to stay home and face her wrath. My mind races through
the previous evenings happenings. Eliminations first. She
complimented me on my kurta saying it suited me, and that
it made my paunch disappear. Great, since she noticed me,
I assume I hadn't bungled yet. She enjoyed the drive down
to the party venue humming her favourite tunes. I'm certain
I didn't utter anything silly. Once there, did I make a
fool of myself? Couldn't have, because the Wifey came smiling
towards me from across the room just to tell me that the
lemon soufflé was the best she'd had in ages, and
that I should not miss them. So far, so good.
We
didn't stay on for long once the dessert had been cleared
from the table. After which nothing much happened in any
case. We sang aloud as the hostess blew out the candles
(I swear I didn't count the numbers) and cut the birthday
cake. I am sure I wasn't that loud to have made a fool of
myself. To be fair to me, if the person standing next to
me croaks, what am I to do? We had the cake, after which
the host surprised the hostess, the birthday girl, with
a birthday present. A solitaire or something. As the husband
slipped the ring into the wife's finger, the ladies in the
room sighed. The men remained unmoved, stood there indifferent.
That was a personal matter between the couple, why should
we have looked on and embarrassed them? As they looked into
each other's eyes, we men started chatting amongst ourselves,
while I'm not too sure what the ladies present there did.
I thought I detected tears collecting in the eyes of the
hostess. God bless the couple.
So
that was it. We left soon after this. But The Wifey hasn't
uttered a word to me ever since we stepped inside our car
to return home. It's not as if I rushed her into leaving
from there. She herself grabbed me by my arms and said we
were to leave that very minute. I swear I wasn't drunk,
or misbehaving. There is no way I could have provoked such
a reaction from her. But friends, it beats me. Now tell
me, truly and honestly, do you see any reason why must she
be mad at me. What have I done? Beats me flat.
Friends,
you are my well-wishers. If any of you see a way out of
this, please don't hesitate to help me out of this tricky
situation. I feel lost and shaky. In the meantime, I'll
try my best to get to the heart of the matter. Which, as
I said earlier, in any case is as impossible as making The
Wifey sit down to watch an innings a cricket match. Wish
me luck! |