Author: Jamshed V Rajan

My previous article was on why women matter to men. The timing was intentional….after all… 8th of March is International Women`s Day. Heres wishing the very best to all the women I love and all those who love me. Not to mention Rekha!

Here are some quotes, which actually speak volumes about women.

Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition.
Timothy Leary (1920 – 1996)

I hate women because they always know where things are.
James Thurber (1894 – 1961)

Women want mediocre men, and men are working hard to become as mediocre as possible.
Margaret Mead (1901 – 1978)

Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily this is not difficult.
Charlotte Whitton, Canada Month, June 1963

At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies.
P. G. Wodehouse (1881 – 1975), Uneasy Money

Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects.
Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900), The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891

Rekha and I went out to eat, last evening. It has been due for a while…

I was so tired (had come back from office only at 8.00 p.m.) that now I don`t even remember the restaurant we went to. A tired me am a monster to handle. Rekha has learnt it the hard way; she now keeps quite long enough for me to doze off. But the waiter serving our table didn`t know that I was tired and thus a monster.

After a ten-minute delay, he gave us our soup. Before he could leave our table, I spotted a twig in my soup. “I think I see a twig in my soup,” I said.

“Oops. Sorry sir, I will get you my branch manager,” he replied. I had a feeling he was making fun of me. As he moved…the shadow cleared and I realized it was not a twig but a housefly.

“Sir, it is not a twig…but a housefly,” I shouted so that the waiter could hear over the din.

He took a sharp about-turn, came to my desk, looked into my bowl of soup and said: “Ohh…that my dear sir, is not a housefly. He is our chef. You might be wondering what our chef is doing dressed like a house fly and that too inside your soup.”

“Yes, I am certainly interested,” I was curt. One has to be curt with the hospitality industry people.

“Sir, our previous customer was a magician. And he didn`t like the food.”

I tipped my hat as a mark of my respect for the magician, and went about dipping my spoon in the soup. It was around this time that I noticed the fly was alive. I might be a Hindu by birth but by faith I am a true-blue Buddhist…I can`t eat a live housefly.

“Sir, your chef is still alive in my soup,” I told the waiter.

He shot back: “Sir, If I kill him, I could be jailed for 14 years for murder.”

All this while Rekha was sitting opposite me and having her soup. She was all but finished. For a minute, I thought…I was just being schizophrenic…for she didn`t respond in any way to my conversation with the waiter.

I knew the waiter was making sense when he said it was murder. What we didn`t notice was that the chef-fly was actually drowning in the soup. Soon enough he was dead, and I was happy. But like I said, when I am tired, I am a monster…an irritated monster.

I called the waiter again: “Sir, I now have a dead housefly in my soup.”

“Suicide or homicide?” he asked. From the way he spoke to me, I had a feeling he had put down his papers at the restaurant.

“Sir, I don`t know if it is suicide or homicide but I know he is dead.”

“And if I may complain of this soup…it now has a dead housefly in it.”

“I am not surprised. Don`t tell me you expected our chef-housefly to be alive at 120 degree Celsius. And anyways he was complaining about the poor salaries here.”

Yours sincerely is an honest man. He recognizes an irritated man when he interacts with him for a minute. So, I decided to have the soup…and I did.

“Eeks!, this soup tastes funny!” I shouted after the first spoonful.

He was quick on his feet to chef-mate me: “If the soup tastes funny, why are you not laughing?”

buf·fet1 n. A meal at which guests serve themselves from various dishes displayed on a table or sideboard

Well, that`s what buffets are supposed to be. Unless, it is a meeting of old colleagues who want to catch up on the lives of their common friends. Throw into the pool a new couple, a break-up, a marriage, a childbirth and one love letter…and the innocent buffet dinner turns on its head.

This is precisely what happened at the get-together organized by Veena and her husband Vishwanathan at a prominent Punjabi Dhaba, here in Chennai. Rekha and I had received the invite as early as Friday morning – perhaps to give us enough time to buy a costly gift. Luckily, we had applied for a personal loan on Tuesday…and by Saturday we had encashed the cheque. I must tell you that a personal loan is the best way out if you have to buy a gift for a couple with evolved tastes.

Before I forget, let me alert you that names of the people at the party have been changed due to the sensitivities involved. I am calling myself Mrs. X and Rekha Mr X.

We were to be at the venue by 6.30 p.m. but at 6.00 p.m. Rekha gave me a party tip. Apparently, the later you get to the party…the more important you are. She cited Shahrukh Khan, who lands up four hours late for shooting schedules, as an example. I could have messed with the King of Bollywood, but not with the Queen of my house…so accepted the tip with manly grace. For a party which started at 6.30 p.m., we left home at 6.45 p.m.. But as luck would have it…my 8-year old Yamaha got drunk (don`t most of us get drunk on weekends) and we had to push the bike for a kilometer (that`s how far the petrol bunk was). As soon as we spotted the petrol bunk and let out a sigh of relief…we heard my bike front-tyre let out a wisp of stale air…think it was a nail. After filling petrol, we spent time at the puncture shop. By the time we reached the place…it was 9 p.m. and the two of the biggest gossipers had already left. So much for feeling important…

Once there, I was introduced to (remember names have been changed)…Pavithra, Sulochana, Simran, Aparna, Archana, Harshada, Ankita, Sumathy and a few other not so important gentlemen.

The men had formed a cartel of their own and were discussing Jennifer Lopez`s next movie, Khushboo`s bikini and Jay Leno`s humor while the ladies were discussing issues capable of staging a second renaissance in Rome. Being a ladies man, I sat between eight ladies – married and unmarried – and boy did I have fun or what?

Here are some of the questions and answers that came up during the gossip round –

Q: So, what is up with Anjali? Wasn`t she going around with Pramod?
A: Don`t you dare take up that bitch`s name. She dumped the poor boy and now is going around with Vivek.

Q: Did Aditya get promoted?
A: He had the nerve to take me on during one of the project specifications meeting…and I promptly went up to his reporting manager and told her that he was not a team player. Now, he repents messing up with me.

Q: So is Anamika married?
A: Wonder what happened…she is still single. Anamika didn`t tell us but Shyamala tells us that the bridegroom had an affair going on and ran away at the last minute. She deserves it for making us work so hard on the Caterpillar project.

Q: And Arun? How is he doing?
A: He is two-timing inside the office itself. Wonder when one of the two girls is going to find out.

Q: How was the annual party of the team last week?
A: Ohhh that…don`t even ask. But since you have asked, I have to tell you how Prakash, Rajah and Saravanan got drunk and misbehaved with me. I gave them a piece of my mind…and now they don`t see me face to face.

I am glad, nobody asked, “So how is Rajan doing?” for I know Mr X (that`s Rekha) would have immediately jumped at the opportunity and said: “Don`t even bother…he is such a flirt that the other day he forgot that we were married and started flirting with me!”