In grip of fever last night, I had the sudden revelation that I am married to a Chinese. Instead of a neem tree, I was sitting in a recliner. No matter I got the gyaan. What? How? You ask..
Well actually its American Chinese, since my walls are pale yellow…Well the wall is such a sweet companion. Not the Wall E robot types, though even that would have been welcome. I am talking about the bricks and the mortar kinds.
The wall listens to everything I say and is a silent admirer when I am all dressed up. It doesn’t criticise everything I do. The biggest advantage is with a can of paint I can get myself a husband of any colour…even exotic ones…It doesnt teach my daughter to polish my white shoes black among other things, nor does it make a mess with the food, the laundry, in the kitchen or the bathroom and so on. Put a toilet next to it, it becomes a stress reliever. Put a bed near it, it still is a stress reliever. I am loving it.
I have had many marriages, Bangalorean, Puneite, Chennaite, Hyderabadi, British. Lucky me, I say!!!
What about the MAN I stay with? Well he is ALSO called my husband; in the human world and does everything else the wall doesn’t do..Dont get ideas. I mean giving me cheap thrills of a roller coaster ride in his imaginary Ferrari. He is portable though not changeable. 😦 Mores the pity. But he cooks like a charm, so I keep both of them, the man,and the wall around….
Best of both worlds I had say!
Just read an article on Daily mail UK website about how a husband saying sorry to his wife can prolong his wife’s heart health…(Say sorry to your wife, it may help her live longer, according to scientists).
Ofcourse I immediately jumped on Bish with the article. He said Sooorrry and Aditi chimed in.
Then I went on to read readers’ comments and one lady wrote: My husband has issued me a general apology and has asked me to bank it for future use.
Burst out laughing on that one…
Remember that dialogue from Jaane bhi do Yaaron: Atyachari dronachari, say sorry…
Am so darned excited, I am either bummin’ the sofa or hitting the roof…
This year, Bish (that’s my husband) gifted me a Singer sewing machine. I am rubbing my hands in glee. To think of the exciting stuff I can make. Thank the stars and my husband, I have a daughter. Now I can make some dresses for her.
My mom used to stitch clothes for me when I was young. She of course, was an expert, while I am a novice with just a little experience in stitching, sewing and embroidering. Thanks to our school curriculum, I have stitched and embroidered quite a few things, even won an Anchor prize in Embroidery competition. Although all this was way back in 1991-92.
Have to declare, every husband should be like Bish. He has always encouraged me in all, repeat ALL, my pursuits. I have grown mushrooms, started business, painted sarees, and what not.
He has never ever stopped me from doing any of it. Some of my pursuits have been expensive, but my life has been richer with the experience. Never once has he cribbed about money spent.
So all ye folks take a bow. Mine takes the prize for the “best husband” category. Appalause.