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Today, I missed the Australian innings of the India vs Australia Champions Trophy match. As usual, Rekha was the culprit. It just isn`t cricket when your wife latches on to the cricket fever and talks all cricket. Whoever said, cricket was a gentleman`s game!
After the Indians had scored 249, the Aussies were just taking the field when Rekha walked into our drawing room. I still wonder why it is called a drawing room – is it because this is the room where all the rich and famous hang their drawings? Anyway, Rekha walked into the room and demanded for the remote.
“Why do you need it? I am watching cricket.” I replied with my eyes still glued to the television. Perhaps because looking at a just-out-of-bed wife isn`t a great sight.
“There is a Mammootty interview on Surya TV and I need to watch it.” For those who don`t know, Mammootty is a movie star in Kerala – the State Rekha belongs. And Surya TV is the one of their popular TV channels.
“Rekha, you know that I love cricket.”
“Rajan, you also know that I love the movie star Mammootty.”
“Since you love me too, why don`t you watch me watch cricket?” When I am angry, I can be nasty.
The problem with wives of two years is that they get nastier when angry. “Since when have you become interested in play?” she smirked even as she completed her question.
Wives can give their husbands a tough time by asking questions which can be interpreted in many ways. Like the proverbial wife question, “Am I fat?”
Anyway, I didn`t answer because I didn`t know which play she was referring to – Cricket? Drama? Or the third type of play which I am sure my wife won`t let me write here. Mind you, the third type of play is not replay.
“Why don`t you answer me?” She was being adamant.
I gathered courage and said: “I don`t reply to silly points.” Wonder why, but I think I had started to show off my cricketing supremacy.
Rekha seemed to take the hint and answered with another cricketing term. She said: “Now you are driving for cover.”
I took my eyes of my wife…I am sure all husbands out there agree that it is hard to think with one`s eyes on one`s wife….and thought about my options. I could bowl the maiden over (that would be my wife) and watch cricket now or I could declare now and be a night watchman and watch the highlights.
“Sorry Rekha, I need to watch this match. I would look like a fool when my boss discusses this in office tomorrow.”
“You are testing my patience. I appeal to you to give me the remote.” This argument was turning out to be like Antakshari. As soon as one had finished, the other had to begin.
“Aren`t you also crossing the boundary?” I demanded to know.
“I have a feeling you are pulling me into a fight.” It was Rekha`s time to demand a clarification.
“If you can just sweep and keep yourself engaged for a good length of time, I wouldn`t pull you into a fight.” I purposefully spoke like an MCP, so that Rekha knows that I am not always cheese but can be chalk too.
“As a last resort you turn into an MCP – huh? Just because I caught you sitting like a duck in front of the TV?”
While I claim to be a stand up comedian in the making, I get upset when somebody makes fun of me. More so if the joker (shouldn`t the person who cracks the joke be called a joker?) calls me a Duck, a Kangaroo or a Kiwi.
“Rekha, duck talk is a strict no. Keep the remote, but don`t call me a duck.”
As always, I had lost this time too. Even as I walked away, I turned and said: “Bye.” Through the corner of my eye, I saw the Indians giving away a leg-bye four to the Australians.