Survival of the Creative Fittest
It was just 4 years since I was married; the euphoria of love marriage had drained for my wife, which was replaced by other weighty and worldly things. Her warmth and compassion towards me had seen several ups and downs, putting even the Sensex to shame.
Whatever she had admired and loved in me during our courtship, she felt, had turned against her. She liked my openness and friendly nature, which had ensured a large friends’ circle for me. The same friends, whom she felt, I earned due to my humorous and witty nature, had become hindrances in her opinion, prying on our privacy.
She was very creative; even till date she continues to be one, she started focusing her creativity in turning my friends into foes. It was the age old tactics, which she adopted. Comparing my inadequacy with their positive side, so much so she had the knack in picking up only the positive side of each of my friends, and pitted it against my negative sides.
She had compared me with a friend of mine, who was very considerate in helping his wife in domestic chores, but he being a “Harry Potter” did not bother her. His name is Hari and who was fond of “pot”, the fact which she conveniently forgot, and never took it up for comparison. Or for that matter with another friend, who never missed an opportunity in gifting his wife, at times for as flimsy a reason as cooking palatable food, yet he being a “Birbal” didn’t bother her. My wife knew he had earned the nick name, for his unbridled love for ale, turning his tummy to the shape of a beer barrel, which was never taken up for comparison.
All her tactics failed to evoke the desired effect and it never impacted me, for two reasons. The day I decided to get married, I had resolved not to get provoked, a euphemism for thick skin. Another reason for her failure was, my creativity being a shade better than her. I told her, ‘if you want me to imbibe all good things from all my friends, soon you may feel that you are sleeping with a stranger than me. I am what I am, and others are what they are’. Still it failed to cut ice with her.
Eventually I told her to put all the things she didn’t like about me on a paper and I would do the same thing about her. She agreed readily, for she was confident that my paper would be blank, but I proved her wrong.
She could manage only two sheets of paper and 30 minutes, but I went with more than six sheets of paper, and well past an hour. I was enjoying her discomfort and anxiety to look into what I was writing, but I refused to show her. We had neatly put our papers into separate envelopes, pasted and as agreed, the waiting started. We had agreed earlier to open it only in bedroom in the night. I was not at all anxious to look into what she had written, as I knew it verbatim, having listened to it for long. I could also predict the reaction of my wife, on witnessing my scribbling.
And it was as I expected. Tears welling up in her eyes she started punching me, followed by a tight hug, whispering in my ear, ‘you dirty sweet scoundrel, I love you too, though you don’t deserve’.
All the six sheets of paper contained only one line, repeated like an imposition writing, as we did in our school. And it was,
“I love you, for what you are, and not you will”.
Survival of the Creative Fittest
- » Published on November 14, 2008
- » Type: Satire
- » Filed under: