Kudos to Kanta bai
LITTLE did know that a seemingly harmless tiff with my bai would snowball into a major ego problem. She was being unreasonable and she knew it but refused to comply with my instructions. In a sudden spurt of anger, I made the gross mistake of telling her to leave, saying that I could manage without her. And that was it. Off she went, walking a very defiant walk (but not before telling me not to contact her in case I needed her services again). I knew I had blundered but at the same time I could not see myself giving her a princely raise that was unwarranted. I tried hard to look at the bright side. After all, if I would be doing all that she did, I probably would lose all those kilos that just seemed to pile on.
First things first. I decided to pack the tiffins and prepare the breakfast. I have always loved to cook (though not necessarily without some help). I breezed through the vegetables and reached the part I was not very fond of—kneading the dough. When else was I going to use my food processor? I took it out of the closet as I would my most prized possession. Finally, my mission was accomplished albeit, not without leaving me with three times the dough I needed, for I kept getting the proportion of the flour and water all wrong.
Now my attention returned
to the dishes in the sink. I made a mental note of using as few dishes
as possible in future. With each dish that I cleaned, I regretted having
thrown Kanta out. With all the dishes washed and stacked, I looked at
the clock , only to realise to my dismay that I had missed a favourite
Not wanting to miss any more serials, I quickly spread out the clothes to dry, some with tell-tale stains of the goof-up. I kept the clothes that had to be ironed next to me and decided to iron them while watching TV. After all, if I coupled it with something I enjoyed, it may not seem such a drudgery. When I actually sat down to doing it, it was as good as I thought it would be. Until I got too engrossed in the serial, that is. With my eyes glued to the screen and my hands deftly working their magic on the clothes, I did not realise when the iron wandered off to the rubber print on the T-shirt. Not only did the T-shirt become unwearable, it left the room with a ghastly smell and chunks of the T-shirt stuck to the iron. I had to send the clothes to the dhobi and spend my afternoon looking for ways to clean the iron of the unwanted residue that charred my heart every time I looked at it.
When I finally got the chance to sit in front of the television set, there was hardly anything to watch.
Talking on the phone has always been a good timepass, but not when I am dictating a list of groceries and vegetables to the shopkeeper. Imagine being bombarded with call-waiting alerts all this while. I had to keep repeating my order till he got the list right (or so I thought). And when I hurriedly put the phone down, the phone mobile ringing.
Finally, when I managed to get through the day without Kanta, I was missing her more than ever. Her unreasonable demands suddenly seemed reasonable to me and I lured her back with the promise of a suit. She agreed but not before telling me to that the suit had better be a new one. I vowed to keep my temper under control, for it had just set me back by a few hundred bucks.