LLC01: The Collateral Damage

I wonder how my body knows that it is a Sunday or was I a python in my last birth, and I practice my ontological awakening, weekly, by sleeping extra? Alright, there is no alarm in the morning, so there is two hours of extra sleep. But isn’t that well deserved, extra rest supposed to freshen up the tired body of a drained-to-the-core corporate slave? And that Sunday was no different. From eight o’ clock, my alarm clock showed nine and finally it was ten when my sweet, caring, lovely wife gave up and shouted from the kitchen.

“If laziness was a fiduciary virtue, you would be the richest man in the world,” her voice mixed with the sound of the ups and downs of the dough tray and the jingling of her bangles entered my ears.

“Awesome shot,” I said to myself, admiring her for being the best killer of the Sunday induced, laziness driven, typical for men, pleasure.

“You are giving me way more credit for my talent than I deserve,” I countered her.

“You never mentioned this talent in your bio-data which your folks send to us with the proposal,” I could feel the increasing pressure on the dough with the change in the frequency of the jingling of her bangles and the squeaks of the dough tray.

“We are the Pundits of U.P. We are humble, modest and down to earth for the special gifts which God has imparted on us,”

Yeah, I was on fire that day!

“Now, are you going to get up or shall I impart a bucket of water?” the bangles and the dough tray fell silent. I sensed imminent danger.

See, this is how women change the rules of a fight. From intellectual barbs she directly moved on to a physical conflict. And as an experienced husband (Two years! almost equivalent to an orange belt in taekwondo) I knew there is nothing known as a physical fight between a man and his wife. In a fight you are allowed to hit back. In a married life, whenever it comes to a fight, you are a fool because by then you have already lost and you will be hit by anything tangible, throw-able or hit-able like a pillow (yes dude, it can hurt sometime), a rolling pin, a glass, bowls and as all of you know the other household arms and ammunition.

“Can I have a cup of tea please?”

See, how neatly I dodged, I told you I deserve an orange belt.

“It is kept on the side table and it is the third and the last cup of tea. If you plan to sleep more then I will place the kettle near you,”

The jingling restarted and I was out of danger. I located the hot one out of the three cups placed on the side table. Although I knew it was a Sunday, impulsively, I picked my smart-phone for any mail or phone call.

“There, there, before you open your laptop let me remind you that my shopping list is pending since four Sundays,” she was already standing at the bedroom door.

“Oh, Shopping list,” I nodded my head twice as it finally occurred to me the reason of her being extra curt.

“Sure honey, I can sacrifice the whole world for you, a Sunday doesn’t even count in that!”

“Good,” she smiled, “Get ready, I don’t want to get stuck in the evening traffic, let’s be back by four.”

“Give me just half an hour,”

The docility, docileness or whatever form of the word docile it was, but I remembered Amit’s comment on that.

“If you want to make a problem small, get a bigger problem.”

I was frustrated with my stupid, arrogant and rude boss at my first job when Amit suggested me to be more mature and calm. I took his advice seriously, got married and now I was the best employee of my company since last two years (of my marriage).

I took my car out and placed the seat belt as I saw my neighbors Mrs. and Mr. Sharma leaving in their small, pink car, most probably for shopping only.They approached us. I nodded at Mr. Sharma. Our heavy with oversleeping and Saturday night’s hangover laden eyes met.

“My sympathies,” the message was send in Morse code with the blink of eyes.

“Accepted, mine too.” and Mr. Sharma responded with a pause in his nod and blink of his eyes.

So it was confirmed that both of us, hunters and gatherers, were on the same mission.

It was indeed a long list. Drapes, curtains, bed sheets, pillow cover, utensils, cutlery and the rest I forgot. I am sure my wife still remembers the fabric, color, print, price, company and all the other details.

Anyways, she returned contented and I was happy that the shopping would be enough to keep her peaceful for at least six months. But that Sunday was no ordinary Sunday. It was supposed to be some biannual home cleaning, furniture shifting and rearranging Sunday.

As soon as we entered the flat my wife said, “Let’s shift the almirah in the bedroom to the right and place the dressing table there.”

And the wealth manager turned into a daily laborer. It is not that I don’t like a well decorated, neatly arranged house but the efforts are exactly too much as it sounds. But anyways, I was given a choice, two years ago, between the pleasure of a lively looking, chaotic, messy, bachelor’s house and marriage.

The shopping, cleaning and rearranging was done all in one day. Bravo! I admitted once again that women are better managers.

“Thanks Neeraj,” my wife kissed me on the cheek while admiring the new look of our home. I smiled and rounded my lips to kiss her back on her cheek when she withdrew and I was left stretching my neck.

“One more thing,”

“Now what?”

“Let us open the kitchen window,”

“Which window?” I frowned.

“Arey, that kitchen window,” she pointed at the large window in the kitchen, just above the burner.

“I don’t know why you kept it closed. It will reduce the heat and also I can have a view while cooking,”

“No,” I denied abruptly.

After the whole days hard work she was in no mood to accept a no for an answer, especially when her aesthetic sense, which was by then throbbing in her heart like adrenaline, made the flat look much better.

“What? Why?” she frowned, taken aback.

“I said no. And I have already opened a ventilator above that with an exhaust fan,”

“What no? It is my kitchen and I am going to open it. I shouldn’t have asked you at the first place,”

“Bhavana, please, let’s end it here. That window will never be opened,”

“Ha-ha. I am not asking for your permission,” she said and went towards the kitchen.

I hurriedly followed her and found her struggling to open the latch. I pushed her hand to remove it from the window.

“Bhavana, I think it is enough. I have already told you,”

“What is wrong with you? Why are you pushing me? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“Come let us order a pizza today,”

“Neeraj, are you trying to boss around or is this some male ego thing of yours?”

“You can take it whichever way you want,” I was blunt.

“What do you think of yourself? And what do you think of me that I actually need your permission to open a window?” she waived her hand.

“I don’t care. Get out of the kitchen now!” I raised my voice.

“Don’t shout at me. And hell I will open the window. What are you going to do?”

Bhavana went again, stomping her feet, to open the window. I caught her hand, wanted to pull her back when her cute little palm brushed against the corner of the latch.

“Ouch! What the hell?” she shouted in pain. There was blood in her hand.

“Look what you have done. You are an idiot Neeraj. Don’t ever talk to me again,” she said and left for the bedroom.

“Bhavana listen… I am sorry,” I ran behind her but she slammed the door shut.

I stood stunned and stupefied, by the sudden turn of events, at the bedroom door. I couldn’t believe I just hurt my love. I can be as bitching as a nasty old woman to complain about her but I take it as a fad amongst today’s husbands. I never mean to hurt her and blood? My head was reeling.

“One large farmhouse pizza and coke,” I ordered Dominos, “Yes, that choco-lava cake too!”

“This is the time to tell her the truth,” I decided and sat with a pen and paper. 

“Dear,

Dearer,

Dearest Bhavana,

I am sorry, my love, to cause you the pain but I never ever wished that to happen. There is a reason that I have always asked you to keep that window shut. And I think this is the time to share a part of my past with you.

It was around three years ago when I bought this flat and shifted in it. I was as happy and proud as a man of thirty could ever be on buying his own house. I arranged some furniture and a few kitchen utensils and was an average bachelor, struggling with my job when I realized that there was someone else in this house too.

On the third night, which was a Sunday, I was sloshed and kept my plates and empty beer bottles on the kitchen slab and dropped dead on my our bed. I was deep in sleep when I heard the beer bottles falling in the sink. I thought I was dreaming and was too sleepy to get up but the bottles did fell.

I ignored that and went to the office next morning. At night I came back, cooked for myself but could eat only half of the rice and left the rest in the cooker. To my surprise, it was clean as new in the morning!

Now I was confused and scared too but had to know the reason behind all that. So next night I woke up and decided to face him myself. I intentionally left some rice in the cooker and waited for some noise in the kitchen.

“Khadak!” I heard the falling of the cooker lid which I left inverted on that.

I picked two empty beer bottles and ran for the kitchen. But to my horror, I found no one there. The lid of the cooker was on the slab and some rice was dropped by its side. I was horrified. I couldn’t even see a shadow of anyone. I didn’t know what to do. I left the kitchen like that, switched off the lights and went to sleep as I had to leave for Delhi next day.

I returned from the business trip after three days. As I entered the house a very foul smell hit me. I thought it must be the stale air due to the rain and the closed windows but again to my surprise I found that I left the kitchen window opened in a hurry.

I was in no state to clean or cook, so I just ordered a pizza and beer. The beer can fell from the slab to the sink that night and left over pizza was gone too. My throat was parched, body heated up and I felt tremendous weakness and nausea. I couldn’t care to see what was going on in the kitchen.

“Boss I am not feeling well today, taking the day off.” I messaged my boss in the morning and decided to take some medicine of my own and rest.

“Come with a medical certificate tomorrow.” My boss replied.

That meant that I had to go to a doctor. He prescribed me some pills and I slept till afternoon when the sound of beer cans move and knocking them came. I was highly irritated to tolerate any more nuisances and decided to end it then and there.

I walked slowly, noiselessly, like a cat  tiger and peeped into the kitchen where I saw him for the first time.

“There, I caught you now,” I almost shouted.

He was searching for something to eat in the sink when he noticed me and looked at me.

“You dirty, big, fat, rat! To hell with you,” I picked my sandal lying nearby and aimed for him.

I missed the rat but the beer can fell out of the sink on the floor. He ran towards the window and turned his head once to look at me. He squint his eyes once, paused for a long second and moved out from that window.

“Blah, you dare not come again. We are the Pundits from U.P. The lions are mouse in front of us and huh, you are already a mouse,” I said loudly and went ahead to close the window.

I was feeling better but the foul smell and nauseating feeling didn’t go. I tried cooking some khichdi for me and found the smoke filled the kitchen. I sneezed and opened the window.

“I can’t keep the window closed forever,” I said to myself while eating.

So I brought a steel lattice to cover the window. I was better enough to go to the office next morning and found totally fit when I immersed myself into the work. I came back, looked at the lattice ridden window, patted my back, cooked, ate and went to sleep.

I was still feeling sick due to the same strange foul smell and the fever came back.

“Khad, khad” the rattling of the plates woke me up. I frowned, rose up and went to the kitchen. There was nobody but again, the rice from the cooker was gone. I was baffled but I was feverish and went back to sleep.

In the morning I came to make some tea when I realized, “Oh, my God, that rascal chewed the steel!”

I found small pieces of the lattice on the window sill and a hole, large enough, at the extreme corner. It was not visible at the night.

“It’s a war,” I said to myself as I wiped my running nose. My eyes were watery and the fever was rising.

I was weak but I didn’t give in. I lost a battle not the war! I thought of a brilliant idea. I immediately cleaned all the utensils and threw away all the remaining food. I applied the age old war strategy of Tsun Tzu (A Chinese war strategist, will tell you more about him when you will forgive me)

I thought when he will not find his thing of interest (remaining food of course) he won’t come at all. So since then, till today I always clean the dishes before sleeping. But I was so wrong. The enemy changed his strategy. I still get a shiver in my spine when I think of that. That was really so cheap of him.

For another week I continued with cleaning the utensils and throwing away the food before sleeping and my sleep was not broken at night. But my fever was relapsing at nights while I felt okay at office. I almost forgot about him and was more concerned about the dark circles below my eyes. I was pouring the flour from the container to make some rotis for me. I was told not to eat rice and other cough inducing things by the doctor. I spread it on the dough tray when I spotted a few cumin seeds in the flour and smiled.

“He he, mom put cumin seeds in flour sometimes when she makes parathas,” and I poured water in that.

“Hey, wait a minute. That is supposed to be parsley not cumin seeds,” I realized as my eyes widened with horror.

I searched for the cumin seeds in that flour, hoping that they were actually cumin seeds and not what I was thinking. But I couldn’t find any. Those things dissolved in the flour with water.

“F*ck man, those were mouse droppings!” I was disgusted, nauseous and almost threw up.

I threw that flour away and started checking the container of other food items, firstly the cumin seeds box. Yes, they were cut by that bas*ard too and every plastic container had the mouse droppings.

I don’t know since how many days I was eating all that and I didn’t dare to cook for many days. I realized the reason of that foul smell and started cleaning the whole house. I didn’t measure it but I can tell you a mouse can sh*t kilos! After three hours of cleaning I was feeling better. The foul smell was gone and so was the irritation in my breathing and watery eyes. But, I still had some unfinished business. I went to sleep that night and the mouse challenged me as he ran over the beer cans and the left over pizza that I ordered to celebrate my health. I knew what has to be done. I ignored him for that night.

The fever was still there. I had a dream that night or maybe I was hallucinating but I knew that I had some part of that mouse inside me. I saw my ears getting bigger and rounder. My mustache grew long and hard like the claws of Wolverine. My upper lip curled inside and the front teeth grew longer and I chewed the laptop of my boss. I even chewed his chair. I saw my boss terrified. I moved towards him. Then I wanted to chew his new blue, Blackberry pants.

“Kill the mouseman”, he instructed the guards.

“No,” I didn’t like it. “Not mouseman, it should sound better like Mousambo, yes that sounds better. Ahahahah… Mousambo khush hua… squeak… squeak squeak,”

I switched my office phone off in the morning and took the day off. I called the mason and got a ventilator opened in the wall. He closed it with iron rods, closely placed, and I installed an exhaust fan on that.

You know Bhavana, I lost the window but I won my peace in my life, till today. That day I learned that the fight was not worth it. I quit the pointless fighting, replaced all plastic containers with metallic ones, tightly sealed and closed the window forever for my boss as well. I could continue the fight and could kill the mouse also but it was not worth it. In this world there is always another mouse and another boss in a company. What I learned that day was that it was my responsibility to prevent their entry in my house and in my mind. The collateral damage was way too much for me.

Then you came in my life, Bhavana, and dispelled the darkness out of my heart. You filled my house with your sweet fragrance and trust me that I welcomed you in with an open heart. And now that I have opened the only closed window today, I feel so light and I realized another thing Bhavana, that now it is not “my” window and also that I am not alone. Thanks for being there my love!

 Now come out as I have ordered a pizza, your favorite choco-lava cake and coke. Please forgive me, my love. Please come out and let me dress the wound. I am really very sorry!

P.S. The pizza guy is standing on the door and my wallet is in the bedroom.”

I slid the letter through the door and stood outside. After about five minutes she opened the door and came out with a smile, a bandaged hand and my wallet.

“You lost to a mouse?”

“Damn! When will these wives learn to put things in a more palatable way?” I swallowed that and replied, “No, I didn’t. Actually I won. I just closed the window only. But go check it, I have opened it now. It is really a nice view.”

She came forward and kissed me on the cheek.

“I love you” she whispered.

I smiled and kissed her back and went to take the pizza.

“It must be dead by now. That was three years ago no?” she asked while admiring view from the kitchen

“Yeah, come let’s eat”

We had the pizza peacefully together and I picked up the empty coke bottle and the pizza box to throw in the kitchen dustbin. I was about to leave when I suddenly realized a familiar foul smell. My upper lip curled in, my mustache twitched, I walked towards the window and found some cumin seeds on the window sill. No, they were not cumin seeds.

“Bhavana, the war is still ON!”

__END__