On a stuffy day, the husband went off on his weekly trip to the districts to oversee and number crunch for his happening business.
The wifey was bored to death because the house was running like a well-oiled machine, thanks to the lovely Bangla machinery who had their own separate entrance to the pristine premises ( by the euphemistically worded ‘service entrance’ )
The bacchus had their day-long school and then in the evening the driver would cart the brats to their various classes (football/swimming/dancing etc)
So the wifey decided a day with her intimate girl-gang was her savior from boredom.
The snazzily named WhatsApp group buzzed like mad and the girls set up a date for the afternoon.
The wifey pitched for the talk of the Gaon, the newly opened coffee shop which served ridiculously priced, fancily named potions which were akin to dishwater. This coffee shop was tucked in a happening book-store. Maybe some titles which promised much gravitas could be procured too. These pathos pages looked good on the coffee table next to the leather sofa. Plus these titles were sure-shot conversation starters where the assembled guests tched-tched in empathy and then moved onto discussing their latest holiday in Tuscany.
The wifey fired up her laptop and Googled ( Funny how a proper noun has become a properly acceptable verb) about the said coffee-shop, clicked on images to check out the interiors. The girls would be Instagramming later about the date. The pics had to be ‘Ohh-La-La’.
And the wifey sat stunned. ‘She was shocked’ would be an understatement. Someone had hit her in the solar-plexus and continue to pummel her in the gut.
The wifey enlarged the image for greater clarity. It was unmistakable. The man in the picture with his hands cupping his cheeks, and a salivating puppy dog expression was her husband alright, listening with rapt attention to a woman in black. She had her back to the camera, so only her long shiny tresses were visible.
More than the woman in the picture, the glint and the looney smile on her husband’s face, burnt the core of the wifey.
When was the last time he had listened to her thus, putting all his paraphernalia down and gazing into her black orbs?
Uff? This was unbearable. True, it was an innocuous snap. God knows who all had seen this and laughed behind her back. What gory stories did this picture hide?
But did she not go out with her male friends? Of course, the husband knew all about it! Did that settle the issue then?
The Whatsapp group buzzed questioningly. She ignored her phone as she tried to make sense of her predicament.
Should she question the husband or not?
And the husband’s call was coming in to announce that he had landed safely.
Should she pick the phone and lash out straight away or wait for him to come back to his lair? The phone went quiet but a loving ping with red hearts arrived. It was the husband confirming that he had landed and was hoping to wind up the work soon as he was missing her already. This was definitely new. Missing her and sending red hearts – What was happening. What obvious signs had she missed?
The wifey then canceled the date using the ‘That time of the month‘ clause, got ready quickly taking care to dress conservatively. She didn’t want any undue attention on her you see. She then set out to the coffee shop in question.
The coffee shop at that hour was barely occupied. Suited her just fine. She disappeared into a wing selling Non-fiction, which gave her a 180-degree view of the coffee shop. The morning shift was changing and the new cashier was taking over.
Wait, there was something vaguely familiar about him. Trim, dressed in black and long tresses with a hint of golden highlights. As he turned back to adjust his counter, the wifey stared at the stark motif on his T-shirt. It was a giant slash across 377 written in bold golden letters on a rainbow flag. The very same motif that was on the black shirt of the lady whom the husband had been listening to.
The wifey froze.
She couldn’t do this guessing game anymore. She marched straight to the counter and cooed softly, “Hi there, I was going through the images of your coffee shop and couldn’t help noticing your T-shirt. You see this picture on my mobile? This too has the same design. What does this mean?”
The man at the counter stared at her and gravely asked, “Are you from the press?”
“That sign means down with Article 377! LGBTQ lives matter!”
The wifey didn’t quite know how to proceed now. She decided to take the harakiri plunge anyways. “Oh, I didn’t know that. So you must have many supporters then. Like this one” She said tapping at the picture on her mobile.
“Why that’s me in that pic.” Nodded the man happily. The wifey now gulped.
“And this one?” She was barely audible when she pointed to her husband’s face.
“Ahh! The Man! He is an ardent supporter of our gay cause. He is a dear friend of mine. He often comes here to prep us up.” said the man with a flourish.
“Dear friend huh? Prepping up huh? Really?” A girl who was whipping a cup of cappuccino guffawed loudly, winked at the man and backslapped him while the man blushed to a deep red.
The wifey stared at them blankly. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t sit. She couldn’t comprehend.
So her husband had colorful secrets and she was the perfect dour cover. And now what?
The wifey came home eventually and waited for the husband’s version of the naked truth while she went through their joint accounts, immovable and movable assets.
Both had some cleaning up to do. One had to come clean. The second had to clear.
Because marriage is also about being practical!