She was the one who had opened the door for me. After stepping in I asked, “Did anybody call me?” She just walked in without answering me. When her answers to my queries confine to “Don’t know” and “You know better” it is to be understood that there is some trivial trouble which will not last for more than a couple of hours to melt down. But, when there are no answers at all, I get the message that the matter is much more serious to be ignored. I thought of all possible mistakes I might have committed unknowingly that day, but could not come up with anything worthwhile.

Our daughter was sitting on the sofa in the drawing room busy drawing something on her new magic slate. When she looked up at me, I stared at her questioningly and she mumbled “I don’t know.”

“Malu, tell Daddy that one of his old classmates had called up and asked to return his call as soon as he came.” My wife blared from the kitchen.

Our daughter obediently repeated whatever her mother had just told her to.

“Which one, didn’t he tell his name?” I asked loudly so that she could hear.

“Tell Daddy to try calling all his old classmates, because he loves talking to them more than to us?”

Our daughter covered her face with the slate and struggled to hold her laugh.

I don’t know whether all wives have this complaint, but mine always tells that I talk very less at home. But, I thought that an ideal husband is the one who listens more and talks less. Moreover, basically I am a poor talker, except when I’m a bit high. But, I am a patient listener, even she agrees to it. My wife is also a poor conversationalist. Fortunately, our offspring has inherited the conversational skills of my paternal side and more than compensates for our weakness.

I was under the impression that I had already settled this matter a week back. It all started with a phone call from my friend. We were at my parents’ place enjoying the holidays, when he called me one morning and asked me to meet him at the railway station at 12.00 noon, where two other friends of ours would also turn up. Before leaving home, my wife reminded me to return by 5.00 pm so as to go to the nearby temple together.

We were seeing each other after a gap of nearly 20 years and decided to go to a restaurant in the nearby town from the railway station. But, once we were finished with the coffee and snacks, we had to clear the place and obviously there was a lot left to talk. So, I suggested that we go to my house which was only about 15-20 min drive from there. But, they all objected and instead suggested to go to a bar. Reluctantly, I agreed, yielding to their proclamations that they also had promises to keep and would not take more than 1 or 2 hours.

But by the time the merriment was over, it was already 8.00 in the night. I reached home at around 8.30, which I thought was early by any standards.  That was the first mistake. But, the second one was more serious. To come home boozy!

May be by the smell or the way I smile, walk or talk, I don’t know, she always caught me when I am tanked up. That day was no exception.

“Do not make promises which you cannot keep” she declared when I was changing my dress.

“Actually, it is better to got to the temple in the mornings, when we will be fresh.” I suggested.

“I am not talking about that, see, you have already forgotten all about it.”

She was referring to the promise I had given her a week back, during one of those weaker moments, that no matter what happens, I will never drink when she was not with me.

“I only had a couple of pegs.” I tried to vindicate.

“Oh! Is it? You could have had a couple more. Whether it is 1, 2 or 5, the fact is that you are drunk. And who knows? You always lie when you are drunk.”

That is one of the many wrong notions she has about me, which I purposely never attempted to correct. Actually, on the contrary I always tell the truth and only the truth when I am drunk. But, when I am sober there are no guarantees and unfortunately most of the time I am sober. So, it is always good that she thinks otherwise.

Dear readers, please don’t misunderstand. Most of the lies that I tell are harmless ones with the sole intention of avoiding confrontations at home.

“You know, we were meeting after such a long time and when they all forced me, I had to.”

“Oh! Come on, don’t put the blame on them now. Anyway, go and have your bath. Everybody is waiting for you to come to have dinner together.”

The dinner passed off without any untoward incidents. But, I knew for sure that she won’t let me off the hook so easily.

Once we were in bed, our daughter started to fire her array of queries at me.

Innocence can be really harmful sometimes.

“Daddy, where you went today?” She fired the first one.

“To meet some of my old classmates.”

“Or ‘Glassmates’?” That was my beloved trying to correct me.

“Why you took so long?” The curious child continued.

“Because we were meeting after almost 20 years.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six…...” She started counting the numbers on her fingers.

“That’s quite a long time, isn’t it? Even I am only 5 years old now?” She was sounding more sensible now.

“Yes dear, it’s indeed a very, very long time and we had so much to talk, you know.”

“Did you finish it all, or will you be meeting again soon to continue your unfinished talk? As if it were some serious talk, like those between Pakistan and India or Palestine and Israel or Sri Lankan Govt. and LTTE militants.” She was trying to globalize the issue.

“And because of you, we couldn’t go to the temple.” Our daughter poured oil to the fire.

“Doesn’t matter, molu. At least your daddy is happy, forget about us.” My better half was trying to give the whole episode a sentimental twist.

I wanted to tell them that true friends are much better than many of our relatives in many ways and it is always advisable to maintain a cordial relationship with them. Since they are more trustworthy and helpful, they can think in the same level as you do, you can be more open with them, they understand your feelings better, they will stand with you during your bad times…. But, succumbing to their double-pronged attack, I kept my mouth shut.

For the next two-three days she used to harass me with indirect reference to the above mentioned incident time and again. Sensing the apprehension, during breakfast on the morning we left, my mother reminded me that I am no more a college-going brat and it is high time that I learned to behave more responsibly. My daddy also nodded his head in approval much to the satisfaction of my wife. I saw a smile flashing across her face, eventhough she was pretending to be busy enjoying the steaming Idli-Sambar-Coconut chutney combination. That really helped. She never mentioned anything about it afterwards until today.

But, now here in our house, only we three were there, the so-called Anukudumbam (nuclear family). I was wondering who will come to my rescue here when I heard the “Ding-Dong” of the door bell.

“Ding-dong bell, Pussy’s in the well.

Who put her in? Little Tomy stout….”

Our daughter started her usual recitation on hearing it.

I opened the door to see a gleaming “Chittappan” (my father-in-law’s younger brother) and “Kunjamma” (his wife). He was more like a father for my wife since the demise of her own father during her College days. He is employed in Sharjah and used to be a frequent visitor to our home when we were there.

“Maya, see who is here.” I called out to my wife excitedly.

“Ayyo, chittappan!” My wife came running from the kitchen and could not hold back her delight.

Our daughter popped up between us holding her slate and shouting, “Appoppa (Grandpa), see what I have drawn.”

Chittappan bend down and lifted her up.

“Let me see. Oh! That’s really beautiful.” He commented, admiring her work.

After the initial exchange of intimate greetings, they all walked in, Kunjamma leading the way holding my wife’s hand, followed by Chittappan and our daughter displaying the new Barbie doll he had just gifted her and screaming at the top of her voice, “Amma, see ..Amma, see”. I was left behind at the door with a gaping mouth unable to digest the sudden transformation of my wife’s behaviour.

While closing the door I thanked God for sending the “rescue team” at the right moment, greatly relieved to realize that she will be in no mood to have any further arguments on the subject, at least not today.

At the same time, my mind was busy contemplating various possibilities as to which of my “C/Glassmates” might have called me.

However, I decided to postpone indefinitely the question to her, “Who was it that called me?”