A lonely Dog and the Family Car.

Yesterday morning I woke up as usual (read late and lazy) like I’d normally do when she’s around, and in no time I was swearing to myself “Shucks, it is already office time and I still have to bathe, iron a shirt, and make my tea…. and breakfast!!” Aargh! The pangs of forced bachelorhood!

In no time, I was running around, finishing the chores and simultaneously getting ready to go to work, for which I was already late.

I wasn’t like this before. Not so long ago, I used to live in a small rented apartment at Nerul in Navi Mumbai. I used to cook all my meals, do all the household chores, travel to work by the Mumbai local during rush hour. The journey to work itself, which took more than a hundred minutes one way, was the most taxing of all.  Life was tough, but I’d managed it all. I was never late for work and yes, I always had enough time at my disposal.

I now live in a nice, sufficient and comfortable apartment and my drive down to work is barely under fifteen minutes. But look what I have become! Eight years of married life has tamed and spoiled me to the point that I am now converted into this house dog who has lost all his hunting abilities, and who can eat only home cooked food, that too if served in his dog bowl. I hate living like this. My masters are all gone on their two month long Vacation to India and I am left here all alone in this empty house whining my laments and waging my tail to all that’s inanimate and lifeless.

Well, I am going to join them in another three weeks time (check my vacation ticker on the right side of this post), but I fear and I know very well that these three weeks are going to be the toughest ones to kill. Running away from the emptiness of this house remains just another plan on the paper.

Last week, while my family was still in Qatar, I proclaimed to my wife that, immediately after they leave, on the very first Thursday night I’ll be organizing a ‘Fultoo Tapori Party’ at home with all my bachelor friends and that, we’ll spend the night boozing and having fun, and if we could manage, even get a few girls to dance for us. The intention was to make her feel guilty for leaving me here alone like this and bring in a sense of panic. She was tough. Didn’t budge, and in fact she actually hit back saying that it was indeed a great idea, and that I should use this time to have fun and have a good time with my friends. I attacked back saying that, every weekend I’d go to the night club and shake my booty alongside those chicks from Qatar Airways, and if I am lucky, even rub my ass with a few of them. She gave back a disdainful look.

I understood that look very well. It was the look that you’d give to a loser. She was not trying to say that I am a pathetic pervert and a cheating husband, but was actually mocking my ability to do something like that. What trust! Whilst men I know are hooking up and pumping divorced ladies through matrimonial websites and engaging the services of Lebanese and Tunisian escort chicks that fly in especially for the weekend, I sit here in this empty house not being able to muster enough energy to even lift my ass and go out for a movie.  What a waste of a man’s life! Shucks, shucks and shucks again. How much more domesticated can one get!

The love bite!

That reminds me, few days back my car got real lucky. A beautiful maroon coloured Cadillac driven by an equally beautiful and shy burqa clad Qatari lady kissed its ass; or should I say bit into it. I liked the hit, and yes, my car loved it too. I have since been driving my car with a dented bumper all around the city, shamelessly displaying its love bite. Tomorrow I am taking it to the workshop. The bumper is falling off and looks like I might have to replace it before the cops catch hold of, and paste another heavy fine on me.

My car wants to carry this love bite for ever and so is not happy with my decision to go to the workshop. I had to convince her saying that the dent on her bumper is like a wedding ring or the mangal sutra. Other cars would think that she is espoused and wouldn’t want to come near to her anymore. Isn’t it true? And who would dare to approach an Indian woman with vermilion on her forehead. Have you guys ever observed how other cars stay away and maintain a distance from the ones that are damaged or dented? Well, there are exceptions, like those old and tottering ramshackle ones that’ll still try their luck, but who wants them? But if we want those high society Cadillacs and Lexuses to kiss our ass, we must groom ourselves, get a new shiny bumper. I am sure she understands.

Talking to my car I just realized that there is very little or absolutely no difference between me and my car. My kids are like the music on my car stereo. They soothe me and make my otherwise boring and monotonous journey enjoyable. My wife is like the right lubricant and oil which keeps the engine running and moving without letting it breakdown. I realize further that although without them in the correct places and right measure this car would still move, but the journey would not be as enjoyable. I would be just like one of those old cars owned by those Pathans, which fails to take off once the signal turns green. Now that my family is away, have I become one of those?

My wife has done her best to keep me going through these three weeks. Our freezer is full of half cooked stuffed parathas and beef cutlets that I have to just toast and fry respectively as and when I want. Yesterday I had my first home cooked and frozen ‘ready to eat’ dinner after almost a year. It was finger licking yummy! After I had my dinner, I made myself a unique yogurt dessert out of strawberries and goji berries, which was nice and filling too. Before I started my dinner, I was contemplating the night show of Delly Belly, but after all the eating, my belly was so full and content that I decided to hit the bed right away. Although away, my wife still has the leash secured tight in her hand and I must add, she surely knows the right way to her man’s heart.  

Stuffed Parathas, Beef Cutlets, Puli Inji and Fish Pickle.
All home made and 'Ready to Cook/Eat'

I recommend every guy must send away his family once in a while on such small vacations; for one, it’ll provide him the room to vent out his bhadass (BHADAAS is a Hindi word, which means ‘to vent out ones suppressed feelings’) and go all out and berserk with his bachelorhood (which, in most cases will not last beyond the first night), but eventually and more importantly, it’ll tell him how indispensable HIS FAMILY is to him. Isn’t that a good idea? All ye wives think over it.