“I wish I could be married to both” – this is how my friend broke his silence after guzzling down a couple of on-the-rocks at the pub. “Well, that sounds great to me” I replied uncertainly. But, I can think of a billion reasons why it would be a terrible idea – to begin with, my friend happens to be happily-fucking-married to this wonderful girl and is the father of a 2 year old toddler. So I probe a bit further – “tell me about this other-woman you are seeing”. He explains that she is a terrific woman, seven years younger to him, well versed in the”art-of-seduction” and sexy as hell. And he looks at my not-so-convinced face and tells in this old-movies biblical voice – “it was destined to happen”. Now I am not-convinced and confused. Well, aside from my own lack of opinion on a lot of things, I also have a shortage of what I would call “personal-coolness” – which means that I can’t bring my face to that blank expression of superbly-relaxed n totally-in-charge. So naturally when I don’t know what is expected of me, my face contorts into a totally dorky what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about expression.
At this my friend gives me a condescending smirk and tells me how it all happened. Apparently his wife, of the late, has started acting more like his mother and the spark or flicker or whatever they had going between them is now non-existent. I don’t know if it was the alcohol in my system or my weird imagination – kinky Oedipus images were flickering through my mind and I had to chop these fantasies off to pay attention to my friends’ ‘interesting disposition’. Now enters the perky, upbeat swinger (and I think he said something that went along the lines of large-bosomed, but in a crude way). And he actually sang two verses from the song “Munni badnam huyi” [movie “Dabangg”] in a very drunken sort of way – “Shilpa sa figure bebo si ada” - that’s how she is. And I am like – you are talking about someone who looks like Malaika Arora or someone who is more like the character she portrays in the song? Now my friend gets offended and calls me names in Hindi – which, thankfully I didn’t understand. Lol.
Now after he calms down a bit, I ask him “Did you say you want to get married to both?” He replies that he wants both his “emotional-wife” (the motherly-one, who cooks and cleans after him) and “hot-wife” (the shilpa-bebo hybrid who does err.. other interesting things) [sic], and the thought is killing him from the inside and to top it up he is having morality attacks. Now comes the question – “should I confess to my wife or not?” Oh-Oh, there goes my face again. After two minutes of silence my friend prods me by saying “this is what Gandhi would have done”. And I am like “Wtf!!! so you are going through some sort of “Gandhi-giri” phase? Too much of shitty Hindi movies can do that to you Shilpa-Bebo, Gandhigiri what next? ”. Then he says that “No! I want to be all Gandhi about this – minimum damage, ahimsa, you know what I am talking about”. Yes, I get it – you go around sleeping with every other girl, cheating on your wife and then go saintly about it, very good. So I tell him that Gandhi would not have contemplated doing anything of the sort in the first place and even if he had, he would know how to take care of it – the guy was a lawyer for god sakes. My friend looks really offended and tells me to go @#$%-myself. Since I didn’t have anything nice to tell him, I tell him to go see a shrink or go @#$@-yourself. Well, that’s the last I heard of him, it’s been almost a week, and I hope he has done what is best for him.
But this conversation actually made me wonder about the concepts of “emotional-wife” and “hot-wife”. Can this be actually true? Do a person actually need both to have a peaceful existence? One woman for your emotional needs and another for your physical needs – hmm.. it is a pretty interesting thought. ;-) May be my friend is having a late-twenties-early-on-midlife-crisis or something, who knows. But the concept is cool, wonder if the poor bastard is still alive or not :-)
P.S:- I dread to think, if it’s the same for women too. err.. :-(
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
A date with Little Miss Muffet
It all started with a call from my worried mother one Friday morning, who is desperate to get me hooked up [read ‘settled’] with someone. She starts beating around the bush a bit, complaining about the weather, how she is suffering from sleeplessness, some sentimental crap and accuses me of being the reason for her worries. I listen patiently thinking what I’ve got to do with the weather and wait for the inevitable; and finally it comes “there is this amazing girl Archana working with an MNC in Bangalore, she is fun to hang out with , good looking and someone who is apt for you” – euphemistic for another old & boring spinster. I say I will meet her on the coming Sunday, takes down her number and hang up.
Its Saturday and my boss calls me to his cabin and asks me what is happening with the files he has allotted to me. I say I will do it by Monday but he says NO and tells me to come and work on Sunday. Seeing no other way I sheepishly tell him I have a “date” of sorts. He looks up at me in amazement but tells nothing and wishes me all-the-best. Next thing I know everyone in my department is giving me knowing smiles and pats on my shoulder. I feel weird and miserable and wait for the day to get over.
Its a beautiful Sunday morning and I am feeling too lazy to get out of bed. But I remind myself about “her” and drag myself out of the bed. I am thinking what to wear, seeing my empty wardrobe I remember I have given my clothes to the cleaners and all I have are my office clothes from yesterday. I decide to wear it and go. After a lazy breakfast I set out to meet her feeling stupid and uncomfortable. I walk into the café where we were supposed to meet and I look for someone who could fit my mental image. A smart girl clad in a jeans and T shirt that reads – “I wish these were brains” gets up and smiles at me. I stare blankly at her. She is all perky and bubbly – shaking hands with me white I stare at her T shirt like a brain dead. She is introducing herself – “Hi, I am Sanjana and we spoke over the phone….”but her voice sounds distant and velvety. I try to snap out of my shit head stupor and was almost tempted to ask her if her name is Sanjana or Archana, but then decide not to.
The daze that started with her intro seemed to impair my senses for a long time. I feel awkward and completely out of place. But she doesn’t seem to be bothered by my awkwardness or by the fact that I have not spoken much. In between the cacophony I hear broken sentences like “…I love poetry….. wish I was an animal activist… intellectual…politically correct” and I keep staring at the palm tree swinging in the breeze outside. Suddenly she perks up and asks me if I have seen Bangalore properly. I ask her what properly means. She tells me she meant ‘off beat’ places like Bannergetta. I say ‘no’. Her face suddenly contorts into an expression of utter disbelief that I begin to wonder if I should have said yes. She wants me to go with her to Bannergetta, and I feebly try to put across the fact that its way too far from the city. She seems unfazed and even more determined to take me there. I finally nod and we are on a bus to the goddamn national park.
In the bus she sits next to me and talks non stop about things I am completely clueless about. I am wondering if this is a dream and if I wake up now she would go up in smoke like the spontaneous human combustion from X files. I try to smile once in a while and end up smiling at awkward moments. She talks about “carbon credit” in an attempt to find common grounds [I think]. I listen but have no idea what that means. She asks me what is my stance on the subject and I stare at her, and smile stupidly. She insists and I say I don’t know what to think about it. She seem to ponder on the reply and look seriously at me. I don’t say anything.
Finally we are THERE, and I give out a sigh of relief. She wants to go for a safari; knowing there is no escape I try to sound enthusiastic about it and there we are in a shabby van with a bunch of smelly people. She tells me the scientific names of most animals we see and I nod without really paying any attention to it. By now all I want is to get back to civilization and tell her to go f*** herself. I don’t show my emotions and she chatters away happily. Mercifully its over and I tell her I cant go with her for dinner because I am going out with my friends. She tells me she would love to get together with me and go for a play or a poetry reading session. I say I would love that and dont bother to hide my eagerness to leave.
I think I will never get a normal girl let alone the idealistic Sati-Savitri types. I seem to attract all kinds of freaks, social-misfits and complete weirdo’s. I have finally accepted the fact that I might have to go for a complete stranger without trying to understand her before marriage. I am not looking for a perfect woman, all I want is someone with whom I can … mm.. ‘relate’ to. May be the ‘behanji’ types might gel well with me. It is both frustrating and fascinating at the same time searching for “the one”.
Its Saturday and my boss calls me to his cabin and asks me what is happening with the files he has allotted to me. I say I will do it by Monday but he says NO and tells me to come and work on Sunday. Seeing no other way I sheepishly tell him I have a “date” of sorts. He looks up at me in amazement but tells nothing and wishes me all-the-best. Next thing I know everyone in my department is giving me knowing smiles and pats on my shoulder. I feel weird and miserable and wait for the day to get over.
Its a beautiful Sunday morning and I am feeling too lazy to get out of bed. But I remind myself about “her” and drag myself out of the bed. I am thinking what to wear, seeing my empty wardrobe I remember I have given my clothes to the cleaners and all I have are my office clothes from yesterday. I decide to wear it and go. After a lazy breakfast I set out to meet her feeling stupid and uncomfortable. I walk into the café where we were supposed to meet and I look for someone who could fit my mental image. A smart girl clad in a jeans and T shirt that reads – “I wish these were brains” gets up and smiles at me. I stare blankly at her. She is all perky and bubbly – shaking hands with me white I stare at her T shirt like a brain dead. She is introducing herself – “Hi, I am Sanjana and we spoke over the phone….”but her voice sounds distant and velvety. I try to snap out of my shit head stupor and was almost tempted to ask her if her name is Sanjana or Archana, but then decide not to.
The daze that started with her intro seemed to impair my senses for a long time. I feel awkward and completely out of place. But she doesn’t seem to be bothered by my awkwardness or by the fact that I have not spoken much. In between the cacophony I hear broken sentences like “…I love poetry….. wish I was an animal activist… intellectual…politically correct” and I keep staring at the palm tree swinging in the breeze outside. Suddenly she perks up and asks me if I have seen Bangalore properly. I ask her what properly means. She tells me she meant ‘off beat’ places like Bannergetta. I say ‘no’. Her face suddenly contorts into an expression of utter disbelief that I begin to wonder if I should have said yes. She wants me to go with her to Bannergetta, and I feebly try to put across the fact that its way too far from the city. She seems unfazed and even more determined to take me there. I finally nod and we are on a bus to the goddamn national park.
In the bus she sits next to me and talks non stop about things I am completely clueless about. I am wondering if this is a dream and if I wake up now she would go up in smoke like the spontaneous human combustion from X files. I try to smile once in a while and end up smiling at awkward moments. She talks about “carbon credit” in an attempt to find common grounds [I think]. I listen but have no idea what that means. She asks me what is my stance on the subject and I stare at her, and smile stupidly. She insists and I say I don’t know what to think about it. She seem to ponder on the reply and look seriously at me. I don’t say anything.
Finally we are THERE, and I give out a sigh of relief. She wants to go for a safari; knowing there is no escape I try to sound enthusiastic about it and there we are in a shabby van with a bunch of smelly people. She tells me the scientific names of most animals we see and I nod without really paying any attention to it. By now all I want is to get back to civilization and tell her to go f*** herself. I don’t show my emotions and she chatters away happily. Mercifully its over and I tell her I cant go with her for dinner because I am going out with my friends. She tells me she would love to get together with me and go for a play or a poetry reading session. I say I would love that and dont bother to hide my eagerness to leave.
I think I will never get a normal girl let alone the idealistic Sati-Savitri types. I seem to attract all kinds of freaks, social-misfits and complete weirdo’s. I have finally accepted the fact that I might have to go for a complete stranger without trying to understand her before marriage. I am not looking for a perfect woman, all I want is someone with whom I can … mm.. ‘relate’ to. May be the ‘behanji’ types might gel well with me. It is both frustrating and fascinating at the same time searching for “the one”.
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