Insightful Theory - I

At present I’m engaged in a battle with my immune system, which, I’m convinced, hates me and is constantly on the look out for ways to destroy me. This time around, my downfall was the rains – actually the sudden onset of the rains, bringing about a sudden change in the temperature and weather conditions – leading directly to an insane allergic cold. All of last night, yesterday and all day today, I’ve been leaking brain lubricant (if I may quote Calvin here) and setting a new personal record for the most sneezes. This is apart from the fever and the frog-in-throat voice. Oh, and there is the drug-induced sleep and body-cant-decide-whether-to-feel-cold-or-hot-problem too.

However, even through all my nose-itching and sneezing bouts, one thing managed to penetrate my foggy brain – the Fellow remained by my bedside, bringing me tea and medicines and even pressing aching limbs as and when demanded. He even managed to compliment me a couple of times on how nice i was looking (one of the many advantages of being married i tell you!) And then, after one head pressing session followed by a long nap, i had a sudden epiphany - the Fellow really, really, really loves me. Not the rainbows and unicorns and holding hands in the coffee shop kind of love. The real kind.

Of course I knew that already. But now I’m super-sure about it. Look at it from my view-point – if, after seeing me in this condition of absolute blah, unbathed, sounding like a dying Cher, cranky, whiny (more than usual), coughing like I’m dying of phlegm, surrounded by used up tissue papers, a nose like Rudolph, in a semi-comatose state thrashing around the bed covers like they’re strangling me, sneezing in the most unlady-like manner possible and then grunting and snorting to complete the picture, so on and so forth, the Fellow can still be by my side and be my primary TLC-giver, he’s here to stay. Right?

And so, my insight for today is that anyone looking for a serious life-long relationship should first do the sickbed test.

Fall seriously sick. Look your worst. Sound worse than that. Don’t try remember your manners and the fact that you were trained to be polite. You’re sick. The world should revolve around you. Demand attention and care. And then have a prospective partner take care of you. If he or she sticks by you and nurses you back to health, you have a match! If your unkempt, sick, smelly and very rude condition is not scaring them away, hold on tight and don’t let go. Such love is unconditional I tell you. I mean, if your snot doesn’t have him/her running for cover, then nothing will.

Profound na?

Of course, it will be important that once you find such a person, have them fall sick and see if you can bear looking at a sallow, unwashed, thermometer bearing face for 3-5 days. I mean, we can’t have you being in the pink of health and then dumping the poor chick (or guy) at the first sneeze, now can we?

Day 1 of 112

I'm officially bummed out. And its day 1 of 112. 

The Fellow left early in the morning for a 4 month special training/professional (or something like that) course, and the organisation he belongs to (damn sadists), in a bid to add to the stress, don’t allow families (wives, kids, dog, noise) to join the poor unfortunate chaps. Their explanation? None. And since here you can’t really question the authorities, there’s no choice but to suck it up and deal with it.

And I thought I could. I honestly believed I would be able to handle these 4 months with poise and grace. Ha. So much for that. The whole of last week saw me tearing up at the drop of a hat at the very thought of the Fellow going away. “But I’m coming back na” was his way of getting me to smile. Not very helpful since the statement was accompanied by a list of instructions, about paying the bills, taking care of the car, locking up the house etc.

You see I’ve been married just 6 months and some days. So I still qualify as newly married enough to seriously be distressed by 4 months of forced separation (sounds so filmy I tell you). And four months is an effing long time no matter how many people tell you that time flies and all that blah. It doesn’t. It’s another of those things which are designed to lull you into having a sense of false security.

Not that I’m the weepy willowy kind in general. But like I was telling the Fellow, I’ve gotten used to him now and I’m going to miss even the annoying bits (which right now seem very endearing, but I know it’s just a passing phase. I’m not that depressed.)

Of course, the Fellow’s take on the whole thing is that it’s a good sign I’m so miserable. Shows I’m happy. He would have been more worried if I’d merrily wished him good-bye and sauntered off back to bed without a single tear. Perspective I tell you.

Tradeoffs

The Fellow is a dog lover and at least once a day, you will hear him cribbing about how much he misses his dead dog Chip. And then there are those days when the crib continues into a 'lets get a dog' sales pitch which often takes on manical proportions. Now, i love dogs too. It's just that with the Fellow at work all day long, and me still getting the hang of managing my own house, a dog is just way too out of my league. It'll be like having a baby three months into the marriage! 

Anyways, one of these sales pitches took place as we were out to dinner.

Fellow: Chipuuuuu. I miss my dog ya. 

Me: So i have heard.

Fellow: Let's get a dog.

Me: We will. Eventually.

Fellow: No. Now. You said we could.

Me: Yes i know i did. And we will get a dog sometime.

Fellow: Thats not what you said before we got married. Fraud.

Me: Whaat?

Fellow: We're getting a dog. I'll tell my brother to look out for a pup...

Me: But...

Fellow: I'm getting you diamonds na? So i get a dog. 

Me: This is no tradeoff.

Fellow: Yes it is. You get a girl's best friend and I get a man's. 

Hmmmm. The secret to a happy marriage. Best friends.

A Quarter Down

3 months today and there are still those days when I can’t believe I’m married.

I guess it’s probably because there weren’t any of those earth shattering adjustments and compromises everyone I know kept telling me about (in fact sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right things since nothing seems to match what I’ve been told…). Not that I’m saying there haven’t been any changes for both us, but none of them involve making such a big deal that I’m looking for the next soon-to-be-married couple to start doling out free warnings and advice!

In fact even with all the annoying neuroses (on my part) and infuriating habits (on his) both of us have reached the conclusion that being married (to each other) is quite a lot of fun. J

It’s been one fourth of a year. Can’t wait for the rest.

 

 

Sugar Sugar

The Fellow is very fond of nimbu-paani, and in all my wifely excitement I made a lot of it yesterday, which, happily for me, he really enjoyed (and I haven’t been married long enough that such a simple thing does not thrill me).  

Today when getting dinner together the Fellow mentioned he wouldn’t mind some more of the nimbu-paani. And so with a grin I started getting everything together. I squeezed the lemons and measured the water. Then I went in search of the sugar (since I knew that I’d emptied the sugar tin the day before). But after looking everywhere I could have kept (and I remembered keeping) the sugar packet, I finally asked the Fellow if he had seen it. “Ah yes, it got over when you were in Jaipur.”

Hmmm. And what about telling me? “I forgot na!”

Oh well. Nothing to it. Will make nimbu-paani tomorrow.  

If only it were that simple.

Not an hour later, the door bell rang - the Fellow’s colleagues looking for a nightcap. And what do they want? Cold coffee. So I gather the milk, ice, coffee and blender. What’s missing I think. Of course. Sugar.

So there I was standing in the kitchen wondering whether to go to the neighbours for the clichéd cup of sugar, when I suddenly remembered some powdered sugar I had somewhere. Digging it out I saw that it was just about enough for the 3 glasses of coffee I had to make.

7 minutes later, I took 3 frothing glasses of cold coffee out to the living room (wondering what I would have done if more than 3 glasses had to be made).

 Lesson No 1 in housekeeping: Always check the pantry when you come back to your home and the Fellow after a vacation.

 Lesson No 2: Keep a hidden stash of sugar which the Fellow doesn’t know of.

How Long is a Week?

It's my first time away from the Fellow after we got married. Needless to say the missing him part is only increasing since morning and it doesnt help that the Fellow calls every hour and tells me to come back home (and this when i've been away only 12 hours). 

With 6 more days to go, i'm hoping a week doesn't end up being very long. Sigh. 

Thank God for Change

So I have a weakness for ice-creams. The fellow has almost gotten used to my cravings at all hours of the day and night and the road to the ice-cream parlor can now be travelled blindfolded.

Today wasn’t any different and just as I sat to finish some long overdue work I started seeing images of spirals of vanilla ice-cream dipped in hot chocolate sauce. So I called out to the Fellow in my most innocent and damsel in distress voice (which didn’t fool him a bit and just made him a teeny bit more wary if possible).

Anywho, after a little coercion and convincing the fellow that I absolutely needed to have that ice-cream, we set out happily. A little less than half way to heaven (please excuse my tendency to lean towards the dramatic) the Fellow realizes that in all our (read: my) excitement to get to the ice-cream, we’d (read: the Fellow) not carried any moolah with us.

Being the good girl I am (really) and the fact that I’m not using public transport here (which would account for a lot of loose change floating around my jeans when I was in Bombay), I didn’t have a single rupee on me. The Fellow, on the other hand manfully checked all his pockets and turned up some 10 rupees. Fifteen if you count a 5 rupee coin he had once kept in a compartment in the door. And 30 when we counted all the change we’d dumped at various times in the car.

So there we were. Headed towards the city at 10.30 in the night, with 30 rupees in our hand (quite literally), and a desire for ice-cream in our hearts. Like the Fellow said, thank God for the change. 

Of Curtains, Crockery and Cupboards

A week back: 

As a kid i never played 'ghar ghar' with friends or my sister. In fact the few times my mum tried getting us miniature kitchen sets, i bent all those tiny plates and spoons and buried the pressure cooker in the garden.

And now i'm all set to play house in real life. You can smell my fear and see the panic in my eyes from a mile.

For the last fortnight the Fellow and i have been making rounds of showrooms and shops looking at everything from refrigerators, microwaves and washing machines to table cloths, bedsheets and towels. Needless to say the decision making centers in my brain are close to being fried. I'm seeing curtains and crockery in my dreams. The salespeople have begun greeting us like long lost friends (when they arent rolling their eyes at the weird couple who go shopping everyday)!

Each morning we start the day (well at least i do) by making a list of everything that still needs to be bought. But the only result of this is that apparently no matter how much you buy, the lists never end and that i always misplace my lists. 

And then there is a matter of space. Where will i put everything? Are there enough cupboards and shelves? Are they big enough? The thought haunts my every waking moment (when i'm not paralysed by the very idea of growing up and being responsible. Shudder). For the first time i appreciated the enormity of the task my mother has been achieving for so many years in a city where even dogs wag their tails vertically for lack of space. So for now (and for the Fellow's peace of mind) i'm going to give into the conflicting neurosis in me and continue buying stuff whilst panicking (internally only) about where i'm going to keep it all. 

Today:

The Fellow and i now have our own house with a functioning kitchen and everything. We were just ready to heave a sigh of relief, when, without any warning, it was time to hire houselhold help, something i assumed mothers do and surely not my cup of tea. Recollecting my first interview with prospective maids gives me shudders (dont know which was worse - the fact that i had barely woken up in the morning and was faced with such a task or that these ladies were addressing me as 'baby'!!). Anywho, the maids have been hired, an extortionist gardner sent his way, and arrangements with the vegetable vendor made. There are curtains on the windows and photographs on the walls. The kitchen is emanating delicious smells and the refrigerator is humming away reassuringly. Television is as annoying as it was and the broadband connection as good. A game of Scrabble is on and Calvin and Hobbes await their turn to entertain. 

All's good in my little world.

No Bruises Yet

It’s been a month and a few days. The Fellow and I are still alive with all our limbs intact. The gloves have come off quite a few times but there are no bruises and broken bones (yet).

Each day brings a new surprise (usually some really ugly t-shirt from his wardrobe) and another addition to the ‘things of the Fellow to get rid off in a nice and diplomatic manner so that he believes it was his idea to start with’ and/or the emergence of another wire/gaming device/computer thingy from another over stuffed trunk/bag/cupboard to join the million and one other wires laid out in beautiful intertwined swirls and spirals all over the floor. And then there is usually the nice redeeming thing of the day the Fellow does which makes up for having to live with a boy, which ranges from folding the clothes and putting them away (without being told even once) to enduring vegetarian dinners with my family day after day with a smile on his face.

On another front, instead of breaking his gaming habit I’ve seemed to develop a rather unfortunate one myself. The Fellow can now be found grumbling about how he has to fight me for the PSP, an eventuality he never even considered when planning to enter the marital state.  

Like I said, the gloves have come off. 

Ticking a Different Box

Got married.

Am already tired of smiling for the camera.

Keep myself occupied with trying to remember new names and faces (in the right combination preferrably).

Find myself admiring the mehndi on my hands whenever i have nothing to do (or when the fellow isnt within sight! :P)

Have to exercise great control over my exceedingly boisterous behaviour so as not to scandalise the new family (there is enough time for that later na).

Am missing my jeans and over sized tee shirts. Sigh.

Keep thinking this is all so surreal and i really cant be married. Im dont feel grown up and responsible.

Try to sneak in a few minutes during which to sit quietly with the fellow and try and feel married (various accessories etc not withstanding).

Also try to get some time with my laptop to get my fix of the internet.

Oh and i also get to tick the 'married' box on forms.