Category Archives: Just ranting

Saathi haath badhana!

There are three types of husbands:

  1. Who know how to do all household chores and willing do it.
  2. Who don’t know and won’t do.
  3. Who don’t know but are willing to learn if you withhold sex.

cat pity faceMy dad falls into the first category, some of my friends’ husbands fall in the second one, and my own darling hubby falls in the third one. Of course, I never had to withhold anything as just the cat-pity-face expression would do the trick.

And he learned a lot from me for which I give myself full credit (and a little bit to him as well – a line I will probably have to delete the day he decides to read my blogs).

My papa and father-in-law are both great with household chores and so I was in for the shock of my life when I came to know that my husband did not know how to cook/clean/care. The crusader of gender equality that I am (only where it seems logical), I made it abundantly clear that this won’t do.

My mother-in-law also set me up for this challenge saying, “What I couldn’t do in 25 years, I hope you do in 25 months”.

We have been married for 28 months now, and I am proud to say my husband has not only shared the burden of household chores, but has done so happily (that’s my superficial guess).

Looking for the right dabba!
Looking for the right dabba!

Well, if the woman of the house is also earning and is contributing to the family income, why is it such an unthinkable task for the man to help her out with gharelu-stuff? We are not asking for the moon here, are we?

How much he helped me with house-work dawned on me only when he had to go on an official tour for a week.

The late riser that I am, I don’t know what goes on in the house till 11am. In that time, he wakes up early, opens to door twice/thrice to collect milk packets and hand out the garbage. He boils up the milk, makes his coffee, makes a quick sandwich before he goes to work. That week, I cursed the milkman and the garbage man.

Pati ji would usually come home for lunch and would take it upon himself to heat up the leftovers in the microwave. Often, if I was fighting the battle to get the lunch ready in time, he would help out by washing the dhaniya patti from the fridge and getting plates ready. That week, I ate food cold and without dhaniya-patti.

On Sundays and national holidays, he becomes the chef designate and would dish out simple recipes I taught him, like poha, bread upma, omelette, maggi, bhurji, aloo ki sabji etc. That week, I didn’t realise when Sunday aya and gaya!

Green t-shirt with whites?
Green t-shirt with whites?

Laundry is his territory. Yes yes, I know Ariel walas will be very happy about this, as their whole campaign revolves around the man doing the laundry. My husband does it simply because our fully automatic washing machine has a colourful digital display and punching buttons makes him feel like a video game player. He puts the clothes out to dry as well. That week, I didn’t wash any clothes.

Enticing me with a cup of tea and showing off his tattoo too!
Enticing me with a cup of tea and showing off his tattoo too!

But his best quality – the awesome tea that he makes! It is simply chaigasmic!

And then there are the small things that matter in the big picture – like letting the cat in and out, feeding her, tolerating her kittens, clearing the dining table after a meal, removing the hair stuck in the bathroom mesh (yuck) and killing cockroaches with bare-hands.

Waking up in the middle of the night to let the cat out is a superhuman task!
Waking up in the middle of the night to let the cat out is a superhuman task!

All this while I work from home (as a content writer now). But I imagine that most husbands also lend a helping hand to women who have fixed 9-5 jobs, in which case the help becomes extremely necessary. So to all those men who stand right next to the water cooler and still expect the wife to fill up a glass and hand it to them – abhi bhi time hai, sudhar jao!

I am writing for the #ShareTheLoad activity at BlogAdda.com in association with Ariel.

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That ‘together’ moment with roommates

“Together we can and we will make a difference!”

These words that were a patent of Suhaib Illyasi of ‘India’s Most Wanted’ fame, pop up in my head every time I hear the word together. What he says is of course correct, but the way he used to say it was what added the humor ‘tadka’ to it.

And trust me when I say that me and my friends in Pune rarely made any difference ‘together’, except maybe in our own lives. I was working in Pune and that was the first time I had a proper ‘roommate experience’. Shall I count myself to be one of the lucky ones to have had an amazing set of girls as my roommates? Hell yeah!

I’ve spent three glorious years with these girls and together we have had some pretty amazing adventures – you know the kind you cannot have if you get married in your early 20s (jibe intended at all those who feel girls should not wait beyond 22 to tie the knot).

It’s been four years since I have moved cities, gotten married and all that… but I recently got a chance to go back to Pune for a short trip for a mini-reunion. Yay! My husband was to go to Pune for some official work and I decided to tag along. He stayed in his guest house, fuming over the fact that his wife was staying with her previous roommates for the entire week that they were there!

Why on earth would I let go of a chance to relive my bachelor days? Another former roommate was also there and together, the four of us had a blast! Remembering the good old days was fun, but reliving them made us realise that age has somehow caught up with us. For instance, we went to this club (point to be noted judge sa’ab is that we are not party animals and we only go clubbing, like once in a year, and only with each other), and got tired of dancing in just a couple of minutes.

Then two young college girls who had pushed their way onto the oversized table we were occupying, started off a pouting-selfie-deleting-pouting-again-spree which irritated us to no end. Then the youngest in our group suggested that we also take some pictures, so we asked one of those college girls to click it for us. Click it? She and her friend actually joined us in that photo-session. And now all of us are stuck with some great pictures with two strangers in it.

Guess who the odd ones out are?
Guess who the odd ones out are?

We had a hearty laugh about it when we came back to our dingy little rented apartment, which was like a temple for us! Honestly speaking it was the worst-possible apartment architecture-wise. It’s just that we had found it by a stroke of luck and without having to pay any brokerage (yes that was a big deal for us).

It’s time now for me to move back to Pune in a couple of months. My fauji husband will probably go to a non-family posting, meaning I cannot live with him for the duration of that posting (read more about it here). So I am contemplating moving back to Pune. None of those fiery young roommates live there anymore. I would probably have to rely on Housing, a real estate start-up which has apartment postings, to find a new house. And I am going to terribly miss the time when we girls would ‘together’ look for houses, meals and guys to stalk. Time flies!

Why I would rather turn 30 than yearn for early 20s.

These five reasons are in addition to the so many other logical ones which everyone keeps telling. Realised this when I was stuck with two 20-year-olds for an entire day!30

1. I can sit at one place for hours without feeling the need to offload my personal problems on strangers. I don’t get bored traveling alone in a bus for hours or waiting at a doctors’ reception area… I am content at being alone with my thoughts sometimes.

2. I possess the ability to keep a straight face when a handsome dashing man walks past me. I don’t swoon and giggle while looking at his faces anymore.

3. I might have been talkative as a kid, but I have realised that if you talk too much, chances are something dumb and/or stupid will leave your mouth with greater frequency.

4. I no longer have to be friends with every-bloody-one. I have the power to cut off those people from my life who irritate or anger me or with whom I simply don’t get along. I don’t feel like accepting friend request on facebook from people I haven’t met/met once but won’t ever meet again. And I don’t feel guilty about it.

5. I can cook whenever I want, clean whenever I want, sleep, eat, dance, bathe, not bathe, read, watch tv, play, anything and anytime, because I have a partner who doesn’t bound me by “tujhe meri kasam“. 😀

Mobile moosibatt

IMG_6812-okRemember some seven-eight years ago we were all either saving up to buy it or doing everything our parents said to get one out of them? When the guy who carried one around in college was a stud (no matter how he fell flat on face when he opened his mouth)? The time when we knew the 10-digit numbers of all our friends by-heart?

And now in 2012, I sometimes wonder how people used to survive without a mobile phone?

Orkut craze had caught up with us in 2006 and I used to have a good laugh at reading people’s “five things I can’t live without” section of their profile. It would always be something as cheesy as “your smile” or something as straightforward as “oxygen”.

If I have to answer that question today, the top-3 on my list would be “1. Mobile phone, 2. Google.com, 3. Maggi noodles…”

In spite of that, there are times when I feel like throwing this black instrument out of the bloody window. Like when someone calls me at 11am (which in my world is as rude as calling at 4 am). Or when someone tells you to meet them at the bus stop at 5 and then bugs you by texting or calling (and that too when they are standing just 10m away) to ask “Hey where are you.”

It annoys me that now I don’t have a calendar in my house or that I don’t wear a watch anymore. Why should I when my mobile has it all. It seems life has now become a never-ending journey to find a plug point — to charge your phone.

The other day I was going through my engagement pictures. I realized I have more pictures with my cellphone than I had with my fiancé. Since sarees don’t have pockets, my phone was visible in my hand, while my fiancé’s was safely tucked away in his suit pocket.

I miss the time when we didn’t know who was calling… the mystery, the excitement, the thrill of answering a call on landline. Back then, screening a call would be a simple matter of pretending to be your own sister when it was someone you didn’t want to talk to.

But I think I am getting a little carried away. I will forever be indebted to my mobile for one very simple reason — you are always there when I need to pretend I am busy! Especially when that person in front of you can’t stop yapping about blah blah. All I have to do is whip my phone out, press it to my ear, and go, “Han han yaar, mein ekdum free hoon. Bol kya hua…

Yes I know I am evil.