We live in a nice township in Chennai, and our neighbours are nice people… till the time they aren’t.
Recently, when Rekha and I had gone for a morning walk, an elderly couple stopped us and accused me of cheating on Rekha. Nothing like a light allegation to warm up before your walk.
We knew the couple – they lived on the second floor of the block right next to ours, and since we were also on the second floor, we had a direct line of sight into each other’s living rooms.
Basically, we don’t have neighbours. We have CCTV. Pointing at me, the old lady said, “This man here is not good for you. I have seen him with another woman.”
Rekha gave me a stare. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I promise… no! Also… I don’t even have that kind of energy.”
My wife turned towards the lady and asked, “Where did you see him, aunty?” “In your own living room – he was holding her close, caressing her back, and also kissing her,” the lady continued.
Now this angered me. If at all I was going to cheat, I knew it wouldn’t be in my house. I was smarter than that. I can bear all insults, but being considered dumb is unbearable.
Rekha turned towards me and asked, “Is aunty saying the truth? Who is she, Rajan?” “I don’t know… let’s ask her,” I shot back.
After all, she seemed to know more about this affair than I did. At this point, even I was curious to meet this woman. My neighbour aunty was unstoppable. “Yesterday, early in the morning, I saw your husband hugging a much younger woman in the living room.”
This surprised Rekha. “Aunty, I was at home at that time. Besides the two of us, there was nobody in the house.” I stayed silent.
Life has taught me that when you are being accused, it is best to limit your words.
“But I saw him holding her close, caressing her hair, and even kissing her,” the aunty continued.
Now I knew it was my time to step in. “Was it around 5:30 am yesterday?” “Yes, exactly! So you agree?” the old lady enquired.
“Ohh aunty, you are mistaken. Rekha was stepping out for a walk, and I just hugged and kissed her for a bit before she left.”
There was a bit of silence. A smile lit up Rekha’s face. Now it was my wife’s turn. She held the aunty’s hands and said, “The younger-looking lady you saw in our living room was me. Don’t worry – Rajan was just hugging and kissing me.”
The aunty looked at us, clearly unconvinced. Then she got irritated for not having an impact.
She started to leave, but not before muttering, “Liars! Which 50-year-old man kisses his own wife?!” As she walked away, her husband followed quietly behind her… like a man who had accepted his reality.
Because clearly, in some houses… kissing your wife is a forgotten art.