When Indian wives want to take their husbands for a ride, they take them for shopping. I don`t know about the NRI wives, but the Indian wives definitely are a handful.
I would have never come to know of my wife`s plan if she hadn`t returned from a shopping spree with a toilet brush gift-wrapped for me. It was to be my Indian Independence Day present.
Not one to throw away a gift, I have been using the toilet brush for 3-4 days and it has been a killing experience. I plan to go back to using toilet paper.
If my wife isn`t killing me physically with her presents (and the toilet brush is just one example), she is draining me monetarily.
A month back, I remember her asking me: “Rajan, can we go shopping?”
“No, we can`t. We have just shifted to Gurgaon and haven`t yet claimed all our re-location bills…we don`t have much money.” I said with a serious tone.
She was relentless. “In that case, can I go window shopping?”
The magnanimous gent that I am, I said “Go ahead.”
That evening, my wife brought home three windows – one French and two Italian. To cut costs, we are now using forks to carve out the wall where the windows will be fitted.
It is for this reason that I never let go of my wife`s hand when we go out. The moment I let go, she grabs a shopping cart.
As if she wasn`t enough, she also conspires with the sales boys to fool me. The other day, we were in Benetton when Rekha stopped in front of a pink pull over (sweater, for the common folks).
On the pretext of feeling the cloth, I checked the price and it said Rs 4500/-.
I am not going to buy that, I told myself. Not long back Rs 4500 used to the amount my whole family – my parents and two sisters and I – spent in a month. How could I commit this crime?
“Can we buy this please…it is already August and very soon it will be winter in Gurgaon.” Rekha was at her pleading best.
“But Rekha…Rs 4500 for a sweater? I could get you a similar one on Chandini Chowk for Rs 350, including the fuel costs to reach there?” I protested vehemently.
Rekha looked at me, and then let out a sigh. She then turned towards the sales boy and said: “Why don`t you tell my husband the specialty of the wool used?”
The sales boy didn`t need a second invitation. Pity, he was being my wife`s knight in shining armor while I was being looked at as a villain.
“Sir, this is a special sweater. The wool used here comes from special sheep of New Zealand. By special, I mean sheep that haven`t had sex with other sheep, in the last 90 days.”
“Yeah?,” I enquired further. The wool used to make the pull over definitely seemed special.
“Yes sir. This is a beautiful yarn.”
I couldn`t help say: “Yes I agree, and you say it so well.
Unfortunately, the humor was lost on the sales boy and my wife.
She now wants to go to Chandini Chowk and get the same pullover in light green.
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