Monday, March 17, 2008

Three Days and Three Nights: II
February 28, 2008

Another bad day: and the sad thing was that it was all predictable.

Call no man happy until he’s dead. And no day happy until the last word is uttered between husband and wife. Often the last exchange signifies how the twine interpret the day in its totality. A poor exchange of words does damage to both parties.

B probably spent her day in the most meaningful manner possible. She started it off in a bad enough sort: she got scolded for not parking the car conveniently (when she parks it in the garage—which is an open one, where four two wheelers and a bicycle are also kept—she leaves about four feet of space to the front, when she could very easily park it close enough to the facing wall). She forgot to brew Baby’s hot water (with the basil leaves).

They picked a quarrel over the parking of the car. He raised his voice, and Baby began aping him, raising her own voice as if it were a game, and she pranced about. They changed the subject.

Husband left in a gruff mood, because the rice cake had nothing to go with it by way of aperitif. He had, of course, meant to see pappadam, which he knew was long exhausted, but couldn’t remember to buy the day before, when he’d gone to the store. In his mind, he always held B responsible for this, because she usually gives him a list (verbal). It was not there, so he merely consumed the tea and left in a grumpy mood. His mood was also due to the following things he’d left unfinished.

  • Three leaking taps, one of them unusable

  • Hair grown too long, no time to have it cut, half-mind only

  • Two pairs of shoes to be given for repairs. One pair to be fetched back, but the work isn’t over anyway

  • Desire to study long and a lot and get certified (a long-cherished pipedream)

  • The desire to sleep—which however has reduced considerably in the recent months, especially after Baby

As he left for the Office, B joined him, and as she walked to the car, she told him she’d park it properly. He said something about being civil.

He kicked the ‘bike to life, and he thought it would have been better if he’d left without answering her, letting it simmer, leaving like a block of ice. However, his natural instinct to finish business (as long as it could be finished by lip service) won out in spite of him.

He sped to the office. The day started for him. It was 1030 in the morning.


She rang up her friend S*. They were on the line for about three minutes, and it might have been something important (he never realised).

Baby had been fed, she was quite well-mannered. She even solicited food occasionally. And then, B left to boil her milk.

He picked a quarrel with her again over the method of boiling milk. She replied that he always did things his way; to each his way. He said something sarcastic which made no difference at all.

She wanted to tell him all about it: XYZ Dept has not reported the seven vacancies, and as for ABC, the file is still sitting in their office, it has not been forwarded to ABC. The clerk at ABC has agreed that he would forward it immediately, but the XYZ officers were just ignoring it. She wondered what had happened to M*, it seemed as if nobody was interested any more.

He indicated to her that she should have informed the issue to his Dad. She replied that she was in the know only recently—she never knew these details until S* had told her a few minutes before.

He said something sarcastic about her style of leaving things until it was too late. He further suggested that if nothing was to be done, there was no need to tall him these things any more. (The basic difference between men and women.) On the verge of tears, she promised him so.

After a few moments, when the baby had cried for no reason, she swore. It was the last straw, but he’d been stone for some time.

As he turned his head, she suddenly noticed the cotton balls he used to plug his ears with. She joyfully squeaked at the discovery, and likened them to the ear studs she was wearing. And then she said it was not. And then she wanted to see if he had it in the other ear. ‘Aha!’

The milk was ready, B came and picked her up from his lap.

And thus ended another unhappy day for B, a day in which she’d done most things right. She’d parked the car correctly (it is hoped), the baby behaved herself, more importantly she didn’t throw it up, her blocked nose was almost healed by the administration of drops, she’d transferred her money at the Treasury and informed her husband of it. She’d done everything right, and yet—

Thus ends the diary entry of yet another unhappy day.


vrinda said...

enjoyed reading this one, and also the ones tht follows..thers something very candid in ur writing and its truly captivating...glad i chanced upon this one

Anonymous said...

Hello. This post is likeable, and your blog is very interesting, congratulations :-). I will add in my blogroll =). If possible gives a last there on my blog, it is about the Teclado e Mouse, I hope you enjoy. The address is A hug.

Zeinab said...

@vrinda: Thanks for your kind words...what better gift for an egomaniac like me than such words...though I only "chance" upon life in the shopping malls and bookshops, I try to celebrate it as an event, in retrospect...thanks again for reading.

@mouse_e_teclado: I'll look at your blog, and though I really didn't get what you said, I think I need to add a link to your blog, right? Muchas gracias (or my geography is terribly wrong?)

Zeinab said...

@Mouse e Telcado, why have you removed your blog? Couldn't find it anywhere.