Oh Womaniya!

You're never wrong! Wink! Wink!

 

Do not get me wrong. I insist you're 'never wrong'. Wink again!

 

How could you be? Oh! woman of this world, the mother of existence, the principle of sympathy and the sword of righteousness; how could you be wrong when wise men have already accepted that when God himself realised that he couldn't be everywhere, he decided to make you.

Ever since your creation it was all good and smooth, you were sympathetic and obeying, loving and non-argumentative, supporting and non-cynical, insisting but not persisting, asking but non-demanding, until you came across the fact.

 

And that was the end of all rituals, boundations and customs. The next morning when the cracks of the dawn vanquished the darkness of the night, the world saw a new avatar in you. An untamable, bold and fearless embodiment. And that day, you remember, in so many living forms of yours across this world, you accused your innocent lovers, husbands and brothers by saying,

 

"You've changed!"

 

"You've changed," do you know how bad an accusation that is, when the men-folks know that they haven't changed, but it's you who had one night undergone a sudden realization about your own strengths. I don't intend to blame you here, on behalf of the breathing men of this planet, in fact I just care to bring back your lost memories of that night. For you to understand that piteous state in a better way, I would like to quote instances from your own daily happenings, perhaps you'll agree to them.

 

When a man returns back from work guess how tired he is. (Now the first thought that you're having is- even you're tired of working all day long, right?) Please eliminate this thought, for a better understanding of the point. It is not to say by any means that women don't get tired, but my emphasis is about that very moment when your husband is returning back from WORK.

 

And 'work' means a lot of frustrations and tensions for him- that crooked boss to be dealt with and a team to be lead. Presentations to be made and schedules to be finalized, team-juniors to be satisfied like kindergarten kids and the department to be run like Superman, a hundred files to be accounted and tax to be saved, new sales to be made and old to be closed, a little bit of this and a lot more of that. You see how much that is? To much, isn't it? So tell me frankly, what does he need- an argument for having forgotten to make the departmental purchase on his way back or a hot cup of masala-tea?

 

Perhaps to be served with Good Day Mom's Magic biscuits. But what do you give, a big dose of satire, saying, "Ab toh tum cheeje bhi bhoolne lage ho." 

Imagine how bad, your dear husband would be feeling at that time. The same man who you married in neck-deep love, with a promise to be beside him in all his odds and evens. And today when his odd-plated car is parked in the garage and he somehow managed to pool his way to and fro from the office, and forgot to shop your groceries by no mean intentions, you accuse him. You shouldn't have, ma'am.

 

Say Sorry! He really loves you a lot.

 

Then the next morning when you're feeding the kids on the dining table, and he joins in asking, "Aaj school nai gaey?"

 

And the kids reply, "Aaj off hai papa," you remember how instantly at that moment you bring your point back, "Dekha maine kaha tha na tum cheeje bhoolne lage ho."

And the kids look at his face and feel sorry for his loss of memory. That's a bad impression on the kids ma'am. You should avoid it too.

 

Say Sorry! He forgot because of a hectic yesterday.

 

Let me take you back to the days when you had met him. You had found him so loving, caring and pampering then that you fell in love with his habits and him without delay. Your love prospered with him and you remained lost in his thoughts, day and night. Back then you found him 'developing' each day, 'rising' every moment and so right and perfectly matched for you. But now, it's just the opposite. The same old love of yours has indeed turned old and forgetting. Amidst your many complaints, you find him lost and wandering, thoughtful yet not caring, kind but not supporting.

 

Okay, here I'll add something in your part as well. Tell me, doesn't he often disagree to your interests now? Doesn't he pursue much of his own interests now, without considering you? Doesn't he promises to go by your choices and never keeps them. Doesn't he just keep you around the bush more often? True that? Isn't it?

 

*He's a BASTARD.*

 

*He has really CHANGED.*

 

Please, don't think that. He hasn't.

 

He really hasn't. Do you remember when sometimes he used to take you to a restaurant and order the food of his choice to surprise you and you genuinely didn't had the appetite to gulp it down, or it wouldn't be of your liking. He insisted but you would refuse to even taste it, (because it wouldn't be of your choice) and then he wouldn't force you and begin to eat it all by himself.

 

Then suddenly, somewhere in the middle of his meal as he would fork a little slice of onion you would interrupt, "Don't eat that onion. They don't even wash it," but he wouldn't stop and keep eating. As he would pick the next slice you would again warn him to not eat, but he would say that he liked onions, and you would retort, "They seem to be dirty and unwashed."

 

Wouldn't you call it disagreeing to your interests, right? Isn't that him pursuing his own interests without considering yours, right?

 

But why does that seem wrong to you? If you didn't choose to have a portion of the meal because it wasn't of your liking (and he didn't push it further) then do forgive him for not dropping that onion off his fork, because he stated that he liked onions. And by the way, where in the world do they wash onions? They're just peeled off their jackets and eaten.

 

So do you realize that he isn't a bastard?

 

And he hasn't really changed.

 

Say Sorry!

 

So tonight, when he would be watching his bedtime News hour debate at the cost of your saas-bahu episode and you ask him to change the channel from NDTV to Colors; if he doesn't then don't complaint to him that, "You've changed."

 

Just slide a bit down into the quilt and keep your head on his arm and stare at the ceiling fan. Just when you would be about to say that the fan's wings haven't been cleaned and he should do it this Sunday, you'd probably hear the voice of your virtual Saas on Colors.

 

That's the fruit of tolerance. He is still the same.