Two
Wrongs Don't Make A Right
Richa
Jha
As
always, I am at my wit's end. The Wifey decided to break
her silence. After four days of unmitigated persistence,
I, the Harried Hubby, learnt the truth. My guess was right
to the extent that she was upset with me. Perhaps over something
I had done. Well friends, it turns out, that she was unhappy
about something I had NOT done!
Let
me get straight to the point. Do you remember the birthday
party we attended some time back? The same one where the
husband presented a solitaire to his wife on her birthday?
Now THAT is the problem. You see, in my view, he did a perfectly
'husbandly' thing by slipping that ring into her fingers,
I know he must have scored several favourable points with
her for this. But he could have done so in the privacy of
his home, not before a hundred heart aches and a million
faces turning green with envy. Doesn't he like the thought
of us rest of the men getting a chance to live in peace?
I must call him up and tell him the extent of damage he
has done. His wife could be stuffing him with biryani and
rezala, for all we know, because after all, he has catapulted
in her eyes, but here I haven't got a decent meal in the
last five days.
Add
to that the pall that's enveloped my household. The Wifey
doesn't speak with me, and I can't summon enough courage
to switch on the TV, or even the radio for that matter.
It's a living nightmare. And I don't even know why it's
happening to me. Actually, that's not true. I know why it's
happening, and it's all because of that damned sparkling
stone and one man's stupidity.
I
have to set things back on track on the home front. Damage
control one: buy solitaire for The Wifey.
She
looks up from the magazine she's been reading, as I come
and stand next to her chair, and show her the small red
box. I think she guesses what's inside and says curtly,
“You needn't have bought that. You appeaser. You think I
can't tell the difference between a spontaneous act and
a calculated one?” but I can see that while her one eye
pretends to read the letters on the page, the other one
expectantly flits on the red box between my fingers.
I
open the box, and all that passes through her lips is an
"Oh my God." But shortly her expression changes
and she thunders.
“What
have you bought? Do you have any idea that it's the same
design as that evening's ring! You expect me to wear that?”
“Why
not? I thought you liked that design. Isn't all this fuss
about that ring?” How have I bungled now? I'm clueless,
as usual.
“You
are so dumb. You men will never get it right, will you?
What made you conclude I am upset over that ring? Fancy
being seen in a stale design.”
“But
I thought…”
“What
a loving gesture. Maya is so fortunate to have him for a
husband. Why can't the rest of you think and feel like him?
But what's the point of telling you all this? Will you ever
learn?”
“But
I love you, you know it…”
“How
am I supposed to know? Have you ever bought me presents?
Or ever sprung surprises for me?”
“Why,
what about the time I bought that saree for you? Remember
how you reacted?”
“That
was a deep blue, and blue doesn't suit me.”
“Or
the time I booked us tickets on the weekend trip?”
“I
know why you did it. My brother was due to visit us that
weekend, so you thought of this brilliant way to vamoose
from there!”
“How
about the big fight that followed my getting two surprise
tickets to a movie?”
“Those
were for a shady horror film. You know I don't watch horror
films.”
“Let's
be frank here. Those were all meant to be surprises, and
you ought to have taken them in the right spirit. If you
don't have it in you to feel thrilled about such things,
don't expect them…do you recall how bhabiji had tears in
her eyes that night when she saw the ring…?”
Oh!
Double dose of blunder, double trouble. Frankly, I don't
know what egged me on to this boldness. Needless to say,
The Wifey stomped out of the room. I haven't had the guts
to face her since. And there seems to be no scope for a
second attempt at damage control now.
Morals
of the story: One, let The Wifey suggest surprise ideas
for her. That's the only way to spring real surprises. Two,
keep your trap shut. Come what may. And three, I, The humble
Hubby can never be right.
P.S.
Our friend dined with us tonight. Apparently, bhabiji
is cross with him over the ring. She had yearned for a diamond
ring, not an emerald one. But while hinting at her wishlist,
she didn't realise that a solitaire could mean anything
else apart from a diamond one. In the infinite wisdom of
her husband, that is. Refer to lesson number three. |