Few days back
I bought myself a pair of slightly expensive Tom Ford prescription sunglasses.
Happy Easter… errr Happy Vishu to you all.
Expensive,
yes but I didn’t have to expend my entire purse; just a paltry change. The
large chunk of finance driving it came through my medical insurance, which I
believe was approved by an agent who was snoozing at work. My good fortune! Sadly
for my colleagues and my wife too, who after finding about my luck tried theirs,
only found out the hard way that mine was the last pair of sunglasses that the
agency had sponsored.
Well, they
all (including my wife) eventually settled for branded, yet regular prescription
glasses after failing their mandatory approval process.
I for one was
having a good time; a pretty good time sporting my new goggles, wearing it
during my worksite visits and for my drive to work and back daily. Suddenly the
hot and piercing sun under which I usually cringed had been pushed behind the
clouds posited by Mr Tom Ford and this scorching desert was turning into a gloomy
misty rain soaked locale that I had left behind back home. Life was suddenly
becoming lazy and I loved it.
With the
glasses on, I was brimming in confidence and through it I even found my
forgotten sly mischievous smile, which I must confess, I did try on a few polished
ones of the opposite sex driving alongside in their Lexus’s and BMWs. I am sure,
the newly restored Nelson’s Triangle with the goggles on did ignite a few
flames but, bad luck too revisited with marked accuracy and caused their
acknowledgements to ricochet away from my Tiida on to many of my adversaries
in their Lamborghinis and Ferraris. There are many of those in this country, I
say.
The better
half though, was not done with it yet. Call it her distress on losing out on a pair
of new designer sunglasses or purely her detest at my new found flashiness,
things were changing, and they were changing at a rapid pace, and at the place
where I disliked any form of intrusion what so ever. Steadily Mr Tom Ford had started creeping
into and started interfering with our bedded life, descriptions of which I am barred
to reveal here.
Like some
wise old ass once said “With every boon, comes a bane”, misery started
hitting me from my otherwise most cherished direction. Wearing my new goggles
during our weekend noon walk at the park or even the short fifteen minute drive
to the Hypermarket started to became cumbersome. Imagine this beautiful lady
sitting right next to you and she keeps her sight busily engaged out of the
window staring at the barren landscape whilst she should be focussed to you and
humming “tere chehre se nazar nahi hatt ti” (“I can’t take my eyes off you”)
from the 1976 bollywood flick Kabhi Kabhi.
Something had
to be done, and it had to be done fast. But the question was – ‘How to
appease your wife, who is missing an utterly costly piece of ornament?’
Mallu men (include
most fraud ones too) are very okay with buying any amount of gold for their dear
ones, but when it comes to something else, especially when it concerns
something branded and highly priced, we
turn skimpy. Utterly skimpy, and I mean it. And there’s no doubt that I am a
purebred mallu at it. The problem with us is that we look for returns or resale
value in every big expense that we foresee. And that’s one reason why we don’t
mind lavishing out on Japanese cars or gold or for that matter, even property. But
ask a mallu man to buy a pair of designer goggles or any other such accessory
for his wife, and he would come back asking “Athu veno?” (“Do you really
need it?”). He might even add “Naatil poyitu ninakku njan city
centerilinu nalla orannam vangichu theram” (I will buy you a good one from the
City Centre when we visit Kerala next time”)
Anyways, what
was the return or resale value in buying my wife a pair of powered Armani
sunglasses? Well, with my limited intellect, I couldn’t see any. But yes, I
could visualize a threat; a threat from those ‘bhooka bhediyas’ in the
Lamborghinis and Ferraris. But then, anyone who knows me and my wife well,
knows it for sure, that this was just a bogus threat. You know my wife is so
utterly mesmerised and captivated by my persona, that I could be rest assured that
nothing of that sort was ever going to happen.
However, as
the days went by, new events were taking place. I don’t know if she concocted
all this to bring me down to my knees, but I started finding bland tuna
sandwiches in my lunchbox, got kicked out of the bedroom by my son, and had to
cook my own breakfast on weekends. Something had to be done. But being ‘the man’
of the house, I couldn’t be the one to raise the white flag. I waited for the
apt moment. And the moment arrived when it was Easter.
This Easter I
emptied my purse and gifted her, her cherished Armani sunglasses. She was
happy. And why wouldn’t she be, she actually got two new pairs of designer eyewear in a span of two weeks!
And what did
I get (Beyond the empty purse, of course)? Well, believe it or not, since that
day, I have been frequently finding Biryani in my lunchbox and eventually found
my place in the bedroom (Kevin has been cajoled into believing that he is a big
boy now, and should be sleeping alone in the bunk bed). What more? I also got served
the most exclusive Pork Curry and Appam this Easter. What else does a man want?
Happy Easter… errr Happy Vishu to you all.
