A wife does not make a good subject for writing, but mine does. At first let me brief you about my marriage. I happened to be an officer with a bank in a primitive village and unfortunately fell in love with a girl who rescued me from a bear. I promptly married her quite sure of my safety .......and lived sadly thereafter.
For a few months, I faced a rough time trying to inculcate good manners in her. She would tuck the hem of the saree in her hip and sweep the garden as if she had a violent fit. Neighbors, at first, concluded that I had a lovely maid. She would scratch her back with the broom standing near the doorway, while I discussed business with colleagues in the garden. At other times, she would wear a night gown the wrong side, trip on it and collapse on the floor. She was also found to smile and giggle at passers-by and soon people were crowding before our home to see the new “evening show”.
She had her own way of inviting guests by jumping and shouting and running into my room to inform me that the guests had arrived. This resulted in first-time guests running helter-skelter thinking she had spotted a king cobra. Some scooted assuming they had entered the wrong house.
My lady secretary was the cause of a broken rib one day. For some reason she came home (to see the latest show, I guess) and at her entry, my wife’s face flushed in anger and she looked daggers at me. The green eyed monster surged within and out came a battering ram that hit my butt, resulting in a coconut-sized swelling that stayed for a month.
Later when I invited my secretary home one evening, she resigned and fled the village.
One day when I was chatting with my friends in the hall, I heard my wife shout, “please come quickly, I’ve got myself entangled in the night gown.” Embarrassed to the core, I excused myself and dashed into the bathroom to find her choking under the tap.
She wouldn’t let me step out alone. Wherever I went she would go too. Her head was filled to the brim with silly superstitions. If a dog howled at night, it meant that someone would die in the neighborhood. So she would not let me sleep the whole night, rushing through the gate and running all over the neighborhood.
You are perhaps wondering how I bore all this. Stoic indeed!
But I persevered and succeeded in changing her. Today, she’s a sight to behold and her etiquette could put to shame even aristocrats. Now she finds fault with my manners.
Guess, with women, you can never win!
Rajasekar Raju KS