Stories

A Wife’s Notes [SHORT STORY]

Written by Kiran Jhamb

Sudhi had been taught from the beginning that in a happy marriage it is the wife who provides the climate, and she had accepted it and never questioned it like the good girl that she was. “Come on, cheer up. Forget it. It did not belong to us. It was that person’s share from our earning. Maybe we had to repay him – we must have taken this amount from him in our last births. You are such a strong believer in rebirth and theory of karma,” pleaded Sudhi doing her best to lighten their mood. Om tried to get a grip on his mood and smiled faintly. The sun had set. Sudhi had come back from office. Everything was as it always was every day. Only he had changed.

‘How could I be so stupid?’ He could not overcome the shock, the sense of failure. His confidence had taken a beating. How could he – such a mature man of the world be conned? He still could not believe how easily he had been taken for a ride.

Today morning at eleven o’clock, there had been a call on his mobile. ‘Sir, am I speaking to Om Gupta?’

‘Yeah’, Om had confirmed.

‘I am speaking from Bank of Maharashtra. Sir, your debit card has expired. It has to be renewed. Shall I renew it?’

‘Yes, do that.’

Again after ten minutes he received another call. ‘Sir, is your debit card number 5…’ the caller peeled out a number of digits. Om prides himself on the fact that he has a head for numbers. One digit was incorrect, so he corrected that digit. Again after five minutes the phone buzzed, ‘I am changing your pin. What is your pin number?’ Om told him the pin without any hesitation.

After half-an-hour the SMSes started reaching him. A valise for Rs. 3000, a pair of shoes for Rs. 3500 and so on. Somebody was using Om’s card for shopping. Om went straight to the bank to get his card blocked. By the time this was accomplished, the hacker had merrily done shopping worth twenty-three thousand rupees. Hence the long face and self- flagellation.

Sudhi kept on trying to cheer him up, but she remembered an old incident. She did not even know that it was stored in her memory. Perhaps the parallel had brought it up. Nearly thirty years ago Sudhi was going to her mother’s place with Neha, their young daughter. She boarded the train and sat in the four-berth lockable first class coupe with Neha. Om had come to see her off and was standing on the platform chatting with Mr. Singh, who was to accompany her. Another gentleman was already sitting in the coupe. He started playing with Neha asking her about her favourite toy. He looked at the magazines Sudhi was carrying and remarked, ‘Oh, all women’s magazines! How did I forget to buy some for myself? I must get some. Pshaw but the coffee vendor had refused to give me coffee because I had only hundred rupee notes and no change. Here do you have two notes of fifty? I’ll go and buy Caravan before the train starts.’ Sudhi opened her purse and gave him two fifty rupee notes expecting him to give her the hundred rupee note but he got up, ‘I’ll be back. Please keep an eye on my luggage under the seat.’ She smilingly acquiesced.

Ten minutes passed, he did not return. Mr. Singh and Om came in and she told them about the gentleman who would miss his train. They looked under the seat – there was no luggage. Obviously the man had conned her, showing her the hundred rupee note he had pretended to be in a hurry and not given it to her coolly taking her two notes of fifty each. Om had got annoyed, ‘That’s why I don’t allow you to handle money. You are so gullible – stupid I should say. You were dying to show him you had money. Why couldn’t you mind your own business? An uneducated woman would have been smarter than you – she would have snatched the hundred rupee note from him instead of being polite.’

Sudhi felt mortified. Her innocence had let her believe her co-passenger’s request. And to be insulted before an outsider! Even Mr. Sigh felt compelled to speak, ‘Gupta Sahib, Bhabiji has lost only hundred rupees. You should be thankful to God – He has let us off lightly. Your wife and daughter are safe.’ Om caught himself in time, stopped his tirade and half-heartedly made the noises of agreeing with Mr. Singh before getting down. The train left finally. The glimpse of an unsmiling Om remained with her throughout the journey.

For days, months, years Sudhi had not forgotten that dressing-down. Instead of consoling her, he had attacked her and enumerated the long list of her other shortcomings. His idea of a husband was olde worlde – the husband was the one who controlled finances. Women were useless at finances and she had proved it. She accepted his dictum. Though Sudhi’s salary was deposited in the bank every month, Om kept all the pass books, cheque books and cards etc. He never denied her any amount she asked for, but she never got the thrill of handling her earnings.

A sad smile flitted across her face. For the sake of maintaining peace and quiet on the home front she had always kept mum. Today also she denied that memory any voice. She knew mentioning it would escalate into a full scale quarrel. Om’s response would be ‘Here, I have lost the money and all you can do is take memory trips. Women! God, why do women love keeping scores! Just keep quiet.’ She had had a long time to realise that silence is golden.

Today’s incident had proved that both men as well as women can be conned. Only the gender specific notions make men think they are above such things and everybody knows it is a wife’s duty to be gently supportive. So over the years like a good wife Sudhi had learnt to curb her tongue, moderate her thoughts and to put him always first. Actually in doing so she was exercising her last freedom – the ability to choose one’s attitude in a given set of circumstances. The husband’s duty is to point out wife’s mistakes and if the mood be on him to rebuke her.

As always Sudhi was playing her role to perfection, ‘Look, he was a professional conman, a hacker. Give him his due. Along with being techno-savvy, he must have studied voice control, human psychology – known how to manipulate the victims. They have tons of experience in this game. He must have been good at his job, if he could dupe you, no?’ Still Om sat silently. ‘Okay, I know what we are going to do. We are going to celebrate this first like we have celebrated all the other milestones. Let’s go out for dinner. What say you?’ And gently she carried on in this vein bringing her husband back to his normal buoyancy. She, too, had years of experience in doing the wife’s job. ‘Foolish woman! Okay, where do we go?’ Om’s expression gradually lightened.

About the author

Kiran Jhamb

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1 Comment

  • Sudhi & Om are the most common characters of Indian households. The life/ plight of Sudhi has been highlighted in a simple way without hurting her & giving her a consolation (space).
    👍🏽

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