He tends to keep what he is feeling to himself. I’d really love to hear the dreaded words, “Honey, we need to talk” or, anything else to that effect, to actually understand what on earth is going on, all the time, in that big head of his & which, no one, I repeat, no one is privy to. What is the big deal about not wanting to share? I can never figure that out. I keep telling him, he’ll one day fall sick with all those secrets & things he keeps buried in his heart & he says he’d prefer that to pouring it all out. Arrrgh!!
I’d like to change his eating & sleeping habits. Odd hours & inadequate sleep plus inordinate amounts of food gulped down at the wrong times is a sure fire recipe for extremely unhealthy. Does he listen to the in-house dietician/nutritionist, i.e. me? NO. Does it matter that I’ve read “Don't Lose your Mind, Lose your Weight” start to finish AND backwards & completely assimilated what Rujuta shared? NO. Does it matter that I offer my invaluable services absolutely free of charge to my only client, my one & only husband? No. What matters to him is: Cook lovingly, serve lovingly, rest leave it. Shobha De, you were right. You wrote the very same thing in “Surviving Men” But how can I live with the fact that I married a lean & fit man, who now increasingly resembles Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor or at least, that is what my worst fears are.
I hate his snoring too. And when I say that, I must be speaking on behalf of one half of the entire female population who feel that about the men in their life whether father/brother or husband!
I want to go down on my knee & plead to him, “Can we please, in the name of all the Gods you believe in, limit your passion, your love, your fervor, your devotion & your reverence, FOR BEER, to just the weekend? Can we come to a settlement that Monday to Friday is strictly No Beer Days?” And please stop saying I must have beer because there is an important match today or they won, so I need to celebrate or oh! they lost, so I need to mourn or today is the first day of salary, so time for beer or today is the last day of salary, so beer. No, please none of that already! I have had enough of your love affair with that bottle. (Mr. Mallya, if you are reading this, I hate you!!)
But frankly, I can & I’ve lived with all of that. I can still pardon it (if he ever gets around to reading this post, I can see him glowering, particularly at the word ‘pardon’) What I really want him to know is that, the basic function of a phone, irrespective of whether it is priced at Rs 3000 or Rs 30,000, is to make a call & receive a call, especially during an emergency.
And the definition of emergency is: whenever your dear wife calls! Unlike in the dark ages, when you received a telegram after the person was dead & buried, or, if you are lucky, while he was breathing his last, mobile technology & all the features & the hundred and more things it does, means nothing to me, your wife, if you don’t receive my call. No, seriously, I don’t care what miracles your phone is capable of doing. The only feature I’m interested in is the one that lets you receive my call. Excuses like ‘it was in my trouser pocket’; ‘I was too drunk to hear it ringing’ ‘it was in silent mode’ won’t work. If you are too busy downing one pitcher of beer after another, & have no time in the world to pick up your phone, please kindly do this just one time: take your phone out of your pocket, search my number, press the call button, & for heaven’s sake utter these precious words: “I’ll be late”. That’s all I ask.
And the change I want to see in myself? To stop expecting seeing any change in him!
Ah! Wait! But THAT I can’t do!
जब तक जान रहेगी, ये इन्तेहाँ रहेगी, की काश ...
which is Hindi for As long as I live, I will continue to wish …