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An Officer and a Gentleman
The ‘Husband’s Night’ was approaching and the excitement in the officers’ mess was palpable. It’s the only day when an entire evening is dedicated to the husbands. Their wives treat them as esteemed guests. They are welcomed, pampered, spoilt, entertained and made to feel like kings. Something that’s not done the other 364 days of the year! I know all this sounds like the ‘once-a-year’ dip in the Ganges to redeem oneself of all sins. Anyway, at most social gatherings in the Armed Forces, the gentlemen (these days the lady officers too) generally never get to sit. They remain on their feet, like Oscar statues - with a glass in hand of course! Besides this, they are always the last ones to hit the dinner table. But, on this special day not only are they royally seated the whole evening, but are also the first ones to be offered the dinner plates. (Only to discover to their amazement that chicken curries have chicken pieces too!). Anyway, the onus of speaking on behalf of all the males on that special day fell on none other than my husband. I saw him surreptitiously scribbling something for the past few days. Like the proverbial curious cat, I tip-toed for a sneak preview. While he enjoyed a siesta, I pulled out this piece of paper from where it was buried deep under his pillow. I was amused by what was written. I knew my husband had a sense of humour but that he had the courage to challenge the tigress while living in her den - was unacceptable. Let me get you privy to some of the excerpts which read like this, “…Husbands of the world awake and unite! You are a species apart - a picture of contrasts. You are the best providers but worst reminders (of the marriage); the Jack of all trades but master of nobody. You become redundant the moment you donate a ‘Mrs’ to the wife and a surname to your offspring. You enter home inventing fifty new excuses for reaching late, only to realize that the aliens at home barely acknowledge your presence. The rare occasions on which they shower their attention –you have an uncanny feeling of an approaching disaster, worse than a tsunami. What an angel the monster boss seems in comparison! Over the years you have no idea how subtly she’s managed to convert your unsuspecting children into die-hard fans of your non-existent culinary skills (no wonder she ooh-aahed at all the trash you dished out). The kids now insist on having only Papa’s parantha, Papa’s dosa and Papa’s omelette for dinner. Indeed, had it not been for the ‘one-woman-man’ image you’ve maintained, you wouldn’t have tolerated her fifth tyre, late-night headaches, incorrigible English, ugly best friend, fake fits on seeing your mother, bankruptcy declared at the sight of your sister; two spoilt brats (gosh, its unbelievable you share their genes)… Guys, you have no choice but to believe in the theory of Karma because the ‘Why me?’ question has no other explanation. Let’s confess, there is nothing more torturous than to ask for a second helping of her renovated soup, while every taste bud revolts and threatens to throw up. Instead, it’s easier to be an African pigmy who could dip his dart in this soup and … to patiently sit through her animal activist seminars whereas your only acquaintance with animals is at the dinner table…to remember what she wore at Mrs. Sharma’s party where every one gushed over her sense of fashion (so she claims), while all you remember is a certain Ms Katty with a sense of passion. May Hell befall the spineless friends who keep fanning her narcissistic fire! Want an advice on how to remain happily married? Don’t look lost on being suddenly asked the number of years you’ve been married. Take advantage of her weak Maths, and blabber, “Of course, darling, I count my blessings every day (phew! One day less to endure). It‘s been fourteen years, three months, eighteen days, five hours and four seconds.” Before she figures out you goofed up again, do the vanishing trick…” It went on but as I saw my husband stir in his sleep, I quietly put the paper back in its place before he wakes up asking for a cup of tea. On a serious note, finally when the party got over on the earmarked day of the ‘Husband’s Night’, all was forgiven in jest and good humor. The hard work put in by the wives for the past many days to make the event a success, was rewarded with gifts by the gentlemen husbands, a big thank you card and a standing ovation.
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