Early One Morning

It is holiday season once again. Your spouse and kids are at home all the time, testing your patience. Last year around this time, I had advised you on how to keep your husband busy. This year, I am in the benign mood of forgiveness. The Christmas decorations around the town, the soothing holiday songs, “Fa la la la la, la la la la,” etc. etc. have smoothed my frayed nerves and melted my stony heart as if it were a hardened clod of clay that has now fallen into a puddle. I have been dwelling dreamily in this beautiful puddle, I mean world.

It looks like my benevolence has rubbed off on my husband too. He has stopped frowning and all I see on his face is a smile, hitherto brought into existence only with the aid of the word, cheese.

“You are an angel,” he tells me. Yes, we have seen angels hanging from Christmas trees. “You have been so kind and gracious lately. You make me happy. Next year, I will let you buy two of those Christmas decorations that you were after this time. I regret that all these years I have behaved like a typical Indian jerk, never lending you a hand in the kitchen or at any other house-hold chore. I always thought that wives were meant to be full-time servants for their husbands’ families, except that they didn’t dare to leave their provider on being mistreated. Now, I feel bad that while we enjoy the holidays, your work never ends. Obviously, we can’t shut down the kitchen, so these holidays I am going to take complete charge of the kitchen. You deserve a break.”

It was such a welcome proposition. I start to plan my day. Work on a new blog post, practice dancing to the songs, "Character dheela", "Switty Switty", "Dhinka chika" for New Year’s Eve. I was thinking about what I would wear at the dance party, when I hear my husband’s voice again, “Holidays don’t mean that you should sleep till late. Get up and make tea.”

“But didn’t you just say that you were going to take complete charge of the kitchen?”

“Whaat? Why would I say that?”

I realize I had been literally dwelling in dreamland. I get up and lug towards the kitchen. While having bed tea, I narrate my whole dream, verbatim. The husband goes silent for a few moments. I feel as if he is having a change of heart after hearing such a poignant tale early in the morning, sawere sawere. Jagjeet Singh’s ghazal, "Jo kahta tha kal shab, sambhalna sambhalna, wahi ladkhadaya sawere sawere," start to play in my heart

And then he clears his throat to say, “Even I had a nice dream, but it was slightly different from yours. I saw that you have found a well-paying job and I was too happy to manage the home. And I was doing a far better job of it than you do.”

“Hmm…,” I reply, “These dreams are complete nonsense, weird, bizarre, not connected to real life at all. By the way, what would you like to have for breakfast today?”

(Picture courtesy goodwp.com)