From Your Partner’s Wardrobe

What would you borrow from your partner’s wardrobe? I have absolutely no clue what the men would want to take from their woman’s wardrobe but I am sure many women would love to trade their man’s white shirt. After all, most men do have a great range of formal white shirts. [Aside: just wondering: why on earth do they really have those many whites? So that it makes them, the mean monsters, look decent & genteel?]

You have heard of the saying “size does matter”, right? It surely does in my case. Considering my man is a towering six footer, & me a Lilliput at five feet, there really isn’t much I can borrow from his wardrobe, without ending up looking like a drag queen. What can I, a petite woman at 50kg, take from the wardrobe of a man who is a little over 98 kg & still counting? Well, nothing except his bath towel! The one that discolors within two days of being used? How gross! No, thank you. Or maybe his handkerchiefs! Hell, no! Not that.

What a pity!

If I COULD [note: ‘could’ being the operative word here. I can’t, because his foot is a like mini cricket bat, for which he shops asking for “the last size (meaning something beyond size 12!)& still doesn’t find one that fits him!]; I really wish I could borrow his black Red Tape shoes: elegant, classy, and sturdy. You see, women’s shoes are mostly elegant, classy but rarely sturdy. No, I am not talking about floaters.

But since I can’t, I may have to settle for his collection of deodorants. On second thoughts, no…not that either. Imagine me, walking around town, Axe sprayed all over me. And imagine still, the reactions of a special category of men who are turned on by a woman with a ‘manly’ scent! Or worse, the disapproving glances of another, more normal category of men who really like a woman to smell like one. No, this won’t do.

Since clothes, & shoes are ruled out & the thought of borrowing his bath towel is freaking me out, I am left with no option but to borrow a quality about him that I entirely lack & jo usme koot koot ke bhara hai. His charm! What I really would like to take from him would be his charm.

But wait…no, sorry, I take that back. I am definitely not going to talk about his charming ways (with women, men, and the world). After all, the one important take-away from blogging that I’ve chanced upon is: “Don’t praise your spouse in your blog”. That line in italics, bold & underlined. He gets away with all the adulation and you are left stranded. My readers (both fellow bloggers & old friends) have remarked about “he seems to be a nice guy”, or something to the tune of “how sweet of him”, & so on & so forth. Arey…topic ke baare mein soche hum, pura essay type karen hum, apne aap se baaten karte huye pagal dikhe hum, aur phal lejaye patidev? BASSS! Ab aur nahin!

So, here I am. I have finally arrived at my considered decision & that decision is: I am not borrowing anything from my partner’s wardrobe for reasons elaborately orchestrated above. Uff…what a humongous waste of time this entire exercise has been!

Recognition

19th July 2011 – a date I won’t forget! A good one hour siesta, & a cup of hot tea later, as usual at around 5p.m, I sat at my system & opened my blog.

In my latest post “A couple & an office” I noticed there was a new comment. As I read, I was ….! Still! And then, there was this big flutter in my heart! I was overjoyed!

Am I really seeing this? My name listed in the Directory of Best Indian Blogs! My blog is one of India's best blogs? It had names of established writers like Shobhaa Dee, Shekar Kapur, Rajdeep Sardesai….oh my! I found it incredible.

No, I didn’t want to pinch myself because I didn’t want to wake up to reality! If it’s just a figment of my imagination, so be it. What an imagination! But it was true. I was also thrilled to see names of bloggers who I religiously follow like Rachna Parmar (whose blog was rated Excellent, isn’t that great?) and B Log.

I immediately rang up Sathya & told him about it. He didn’t jump with joy. How do I ever get him to be excited about my writing endeavors?

Anyways, I did the dishes in the evening, with a song in my heart. Usually, it’s a very mechanical act. But today was different. I swear I could’ve endorsed Vim, Sparkle, Sabina, Mr. Muscle, any liquid detergent brand you name, with great gusto. I was a professional dishwasher.

I was touched, because all this while, my blog was only an escape route, a ‘vent it out’ medium for my crazed brain. I realized that writing wasn’t as easy (yes, even if it is to only rant & rave) as some people think or assume it is. I took to blogging a full One Year after I quit my job, at age 33! It was simply to fill my time & days. I am no writer; so never in my wildest dream did I ever think that I would come this far.

I am humbled.

I know I am saying way too much & feeling way too much but for ME, it really is way too much!

A couple & An Office

Is it okay for couples to work together in the same office? I wouldn’t. I’m not comfortable with the idea. Lovers in the same office … ohhh yaaa!! Wink! Wink! Married couples...oh NOO!!

In fact, within a month of marrying Sathya, a colleague, I left the job & joined elsewhere. (He, on the contrary, left soon after, saying he was used to seeing & having me around & just couldn’t go back to the office now since I wasn’t there).

If they’re in different departments, like we were, the situation is still ok. At least, they’re not constantly bumping into each other or clashing over roles & responsibilities. The demarcations are clear, there are lesser chances of an over-lap & hence relatively easier to “do your own thing”. But God bless the couple in the same department with similar profiles…ooo!

Appraisals, tiffs with seniors, all these are sore points. If one of them is appreciated & gets a hike/promotion & the other is neglected professionally, it’ll affect their personal equation back home too. And god forbid if it happens to be the woman who is being applauded at work & the man degraded. An ‘Abhimaan’ like scenario wouldn’t be too far-fetched. The sulking partner, quite understandably, won’t be able to get over his failure & not be able to rejoice in the spouse’s success. The successful partner, if it’s the wife, would feel guilty for her success & would be torn between celebration & sorrow.

Plus the social interaction gets limited for both. If either one of them is the suspicious, overly jealous kind, then it’s the end of all ‘harmless recreations’ (read: flirting) for the other partner.

Also, any emergencies at home would affect both of them equally which would mean absence of two employees at a time.

The worst part is when support each other primarily because they’re married & not because of the virtue of the idea in question. That by itself limits healthy discussion of issues & thereby the solution we as a group might chance upon. There is bound to be too much subjectivity in every situation.

I’ve witnessed a similar case in one of my previous work places. Every time we needed a poll, the husband-wife duo would be one tough nut to crack. They’d have ‘one’ opinion & in situations of majority v/s minority, they usually won hands down. Of course, the decisions wouldn’t be based on this; but the time it took to make the TWO of them come around to our point-of-view was, I always felt, such a huge waste of precious time & effort.

I completely understand & empathize with HR personnel on their reservations on this matter & why they’re usually wary of situations like this. The issues that crop are always too hot to handle; Ego, Timing, Objectivity, Comfort, Team Dynamics. In my case, however, it was the most important issue: ‘the too much of a good thing’ issue.

[P.S: Family businesses are a different ball-game & do not come under the purview of this post.]

Driver Wanted

That’s what my husband & his friends, on drunken Saturday nights, wish for! After all, I never fail to brag that I’ve a ‘valid’ driver’s license (which they don’t). Then, why don’t I just do them a favor, take up the job & drive them around town, while they make merry & avoid being caught for drunken driving?

Because…uh…hmm… I can’t drive!!! Ouch! There it is – the ugly truth!

Sathya did attempt, very hard, to teach me. I kept insisting that I'd ALREADY learnt to drive ‘officially’ in a ‘recognized’ driving school & had a ‘valid’ DL to prove it. He'd say, “Shove it up your ass” (in Kannada it sounded funny & not in the least insulting). This was in 2005. He'd take out our Maruti 800 into Milk Colony’s open ground in Malleshwaram, force me into the driver’s seat with dhamkis & gaalis (I find all his gaalis in Kannada funny!!), ease himself into the adjacent seat & take on the role of instructor.

All I’d do was start the engine & steer left or right, as he instructed. But braking or changing gear or handling the clutch, ahaa…that was way beyond me. The wheels would screech to an abrupt halt & the body of the car would jerk for a few seconds. It was like a mini-earthquake when I applied the brakes. I just couldn’t get to brake ‘gently'. Going on a reverse …no, he never went that far. He knew teaching me that would take another lifetime!! Once, he even abused the poor instructor from the driving school saying, “show me the man who taught you to drive & got you the license” Of course, Sathya doesn’t give up easily & this whole exercise was carried out every weekend & continued for a month. Then finally one day, his friend Bidda, a regular, silent observer of our driving class, told him, “Bidu maga. (Leave it man). The car can’t take it any longer”

I never touched the steering again.

I won’t deny how I stare at women drivers. To me, they are all ACHIEVERS. Whenever I see a woman zip past in a sedan or an SUV, I go, “Wow!” I genuinely admire them all: they look so composed & confident holding the steering in their manicured hands. I am in awe of even the 40+ ‘aunties’, in their delicate saris clinging against their bulky frame, who race against the 40+ uncles in their Luna. Sathya unfailingly sniggers at me, whenever we sight a young woman/old woman/thin woman/fat woman, whatever woman riding along or across. “Can’t you do even this much? Look at her! Pickle your ‘valid’ DL” (this in Kannada). Shame on you.

Yeah shame on me, indeed! What’s it with me & the machine? We just don’t get along! Sathya, an amazing rider, says you’ve to feel the machine; you’ve to own it, you’ve to listen to it! The only thing I want to “feel” about a car is the steering. The gear, the clutch, the brakes, arrggg! Can’t I just “own” the steering wheel & keep going straight ahead, without having to manoeuvre those obscene U turns, & atrocious reverses, & switching the gear, & pressing the clutch? No, Pls don’t suggest me to go for one of those auto-gear cars. You see, I want to “feel” the machine with all its natural ruggedness. But I just don’t want it to be so hard to figure it out. I guess, it’s just not in my genetic make-up.


On the other hand, my daughter Tanvi, who is now 5, has naturally gravitated towards machines from a very early age. She stands on the kinetic & even rides it sometimes, while her father catches up on a call. Vroom she goes! She knows to start the engine, give accelerator & is now slowly learning to brake. She insists on sitting on her father’s lap & driving our Zen even though turning the steering fully to one side takes all the strength she can muster in her tender arms. She loves it! Sathya says by the time she is in 5th Std, she will do both: ride a bike & drive a car. You wait & watch.