Whenever we step out, Rekha carries her handbag. I carry my wallet, which in a way is also my confidence.
But within ten minutes, both my wallet and my confidence are with her.
Because the moment we leave the house, I give my wallet to Rekha and say, “Keep this in your bag.”
She thinks I do this because I trust her. That is partly true.
The bigger reason is that if I lose my wallet, she will say, “How can you be so careless, Rajan?”
But if she loses the bag with my wallet inside, I can look into her eyes and say, “Rekha, we’re in this together.”
Marriage is not about love. It is about converting individual mistakes into joint ventures.
The other day, she almost got my game plan and asked, “Why do you always put your wallet in my bag?”
Thankfully, I am a funny guy who can also do word puns.
I said, “Because I’m in a tote-ally committed relationship with you.”
She stared at me. Not lovingly. And then looked at the beautiful orange-colored tote bag she was carrying and smiled.
That’s all the encouragement we Rajans need. Seeing her smile, I let go of another one: “I’m just trying to bag some compliments.”
No response. After 25 years, I have learned that silence from your wife can mean many things. Sometimes it means she is angry. Sometimes it means she didn’t hear you. Sometimes it means she heard you clearly but is deciding how much damage to cause.
Anyway, that day we were on our way to watch Michael Jackson’s biopic called Michael.
It was a brilliant movie, but my wife didn’t like it much. Being the Carnatic music fan that she is, she kept on interrupting me.
“Won’t it be nice if they made a biopic on KJ Yesudas?” She would whisper as I would try to munch my popcorn slowly so that I could hear her above the movie dialogue.
Thankfully, it would be dark, so I could stare at her confidently for her suggestion.
I don’t remember whose biopic we spoke about next. Maybe it was MS Subbulakshmi’s or SP Balasubramanian’s…but by the time the movie ended, one thing was clear…my wife wasn’t a fan of Michael Jackson.
Funny, because after the kids had slept, whenever I would ask her, “Rekha, is today the day?” she would say, “Just beat it!”
And if at all I got lucky, after we were done, when I would say,
“That was good, wasn’t it?” she would just put on a fake smile, nod her head, and whisper, “Bad!”
Thanks to all these Michael Jackson references, I thought she was a fan and surprised her with the movie. But apparently I was wrong.
Michael Jackson may have been known as the King of Pop, but my wife was the Queen of Pop – she knew how to pop my bubble!
As a man, if at all we step out, it is my duty to want to get back home at the earliest. Aren’t all men like that? If it were up to the women, they would spend the whole day outside. My wife was no different.
It didn’t matter that her feet would hurt, or she couldn’t carry her tote-bag…but she would want to hang around outside for as long as possible.
We went to a few shops, and then as we were walking down the stairs, she deftly placed her tote bag on my shoulders. We Rajans may be nerds, but we are both mentally and physically strong.
Now I am not a man in the traditional sense…I am a modern man, so I don’t have a problem carrying a hand-printed orange tote bag. I may feel bad when well-built men look at me and smile, but I would just swallow my pride and keep walking.
Just as I was whispering, “Only for five minutes,” to a man in a t-shirt with a slogan, “Once a man, always a man!” Rekha suggested we stop by a restaurant.
In my house, nobody questions Rekha’s decision, so we entered a restaurant immediately. We took our table, and I hung Rekha’s tote bag, which, if you remember, also contained my wallet, on the back of my chair.
As we were halfway through our dinner, a lady at the next table suddenly fainted.
One moment she was eating noodles, and the next moment she was lying there all slouched.
Her daughter, who was maybe 18 or 19, started panicking. She started shouting: “Amma… Amma… wake up!”
Now, since I was the closest man to the scene, responsibility automatically fell on me. And if you know me enough, you know that we Rajans don’t flinch at the sight of responsibility.
It is another problem that even society works like that – the nearest husband becomes emergency services.
But in my heart of hearts, I had already taken a silent oath years ago that I would never touch another woman unnecessarily.
Marriage does that to a man. You become careful about where your hands are, where your eyes are, and occasionally… where your thoughts are.
So before doing anything heroic, I looked at Rekha seeking permission. My wife nodded.
That single nod carried more authority than an MBBS degree. I immediately dipped my fingers into the water glass and sprinkled water on the unconscious lady’s face.
Nothing happened. That’s when I shouted at the top of my voice: “Is there a doctor here?”
The moment I shouted it, I realized something. There was absolutely no chance of finding a doctor in a restaurant serving triple-cheese fries, overloaded nachos, and something called “Death By Chocolate Volcano.”
Anyway, the restaurant staff rushed in, mall security arrived with a stretcher, and the unconscious lady was carried away while her daughter followed behind crying.
Slowly, calm returned. The surrounding crowd sat down again.
Human beings are remarkable. We can return to eating paneer tikka within ninety seconds of witnessing a possible medical emergency.
Anyway, once things had settled, Rekha and I resumed dinner.
But honestly, after such an incident, you don’t feel like eating much. Also, Rekha kept staring at me in that proud-wife way.
Like I had personally completed an MBBS between the starters and the main course.
I sat straighter. Even adjusted my shoulders a little. Heroism suits us Rajans. Finally, the bill arrived.
And that’s when the real tragedy struck. Rekha’s tote bag was missing. The same tote bag also contained my wallet.
We searched everywhere. Under the table. Near the chair. Around the washbasin. We called the waiters and asked them if anyone knew anything.
At this point, Rekha looked at me the way wives look at husbands when disaster has entered the chat. Not angry yet. But warming up.
That’s when the restaurant staff checked the CCTV footage.
As I had rushed dramatically towards the unconscious lady, Rekha’s tote bag had slipped off my chair and fallen to the floor.
And during the confusion, when the stretcher arrived, somebody assumed the orange tote bag belonged to the unconscious lady.
So they respectfully placed Rekha’s tote bag next to the unconscious woman and sent it along with her. For one horrifying moment, my wife’s handbag had become part of a medical evacuation.
Thankfully, just before the lady was loaded into the ambulance, her daughter spotted the orange tote bag and said, “This isn’t ours.”
The bag was then handed over to mall security.
Thirty minutes later, we finally got it back. As we walked back to the car, Rekha held the tote bag tightly against her chest as a mother reunited with her lost child.
I walked next to her quietly. After 25 years of marriage, a man learns that silence is not defeat.
Once inside, Rekha opened the bag and checked everything again. I could see that her bag had a lip balm, kajal, temple prasadam from last week, a comb, bills from restaurants we no longer remembered, a stole, one mysterious key, and my wallet.
Then she looked at me and said, “See? This is why I keep telling you to be careful.”
I wanted to say, “But Rekha, I was helping an unconscious woman,” but realized that the unconscious woman only had a cameo in my life, but Rekha was the heroine, so I nodded.
A few minutes later, she held my wallet out to me. “Keep it with you,” she said.
I looked at the wallet. Then I looked at her. “No,” I said. “You keep it.”
She stared at me, surprised.
I added, “Because if I lose it, you’ll scold me. But if it is in your bag and something happens, at least we are in this together.”
For once, she didn’t fight. She just smiled, kept the wallet back inside her tote, and zipped it.
That small zip sound felt strangely comforting. Like the sound of a house being locked at night. After all, marriage is not about keeping score.