The day the henpecked cookie crumbled…
by
Neville Parker |
Neville Parker portrays a scene of tears and cheers over the Bill of Contention
In case you haven’t already noticed, there hasn’t been a peep out of the Henpecked Husbands Coterie of India (HHCI) for the past week. Not even an ‘aah!’ or an ‘ooh!’ When repeated calls to its president did not elicit a response I decided to hire a black-and-yellow cab and travel to the group’s nondescript office in downtown Mumbai to find out what was wrong.
As it transpired, the members were in mourning. The coterie’s yellow flag was still, due to a lack of breeze, and at half-mast, the members were performing the grim task of passing a condolence resolution.
“Who’s dead?” I inquired. “No one,” responded a meek voice from the far end of the room. “So what’s with this mourning and condolence stuff,” I asked, eyebrows raised (you have to talk to them with authority, they are so used to that). “Our housewives are raising a toast amid much loud cheering and waving of rolling pins in my house,” replied the President of HHCI, Yesjee Presto.
“Nothing wrong with that Mr President, it’s a healthy habit,” I said. “Healthy for them yes, but not for us,” he uttered. “Have you ever been at the receiving end of a rolling pin Sir?” he inquired. “No, my wife uses a chapatti-maker,” I replied wondering where all this was leading to.
It was then that the rolling pin, I mean the nickel, dropped! Presto and his teary-eyed colleagues were huddling together to cry themselves out of a situation that now seemed to loom over them like a dark cloud, and pile more miseries on their already overloaded miserable plates. The Women’s Reservation Bill had crossed the first hurdle and was tipped to cross the second too. That meant 33 per cent seats would be reserved for them in the country’s legislative assemblies.
With tears rolling down his cheeks Presto paid tribute to the valiant Yadav duo (the iconic Lalu of Rashtriya Janta Dal and Mulayam of Samajwadi Party fame) who had fought tooth and nail to stop the Bill with much flailing of the arms, before marshals ejected their unruly party members from the Rajya Sabha (Upper House of the Indian Parliament).
“Come now, Presto, it’s not the end of the world,” I comforted. “It is,” he lamented. “My wife has nurtured great political ambitions and has been practicing political manoeuvres from the very first day of our marriage. She regularly made me clap and applaud every syllable and invective she hurled while standing atop the dressing table.
“At last her wish has come true. She also has dictatorial ambitions and an imperious heel to boot, and now things could get worse for me,” Presto added painfully.
I could see his point of view but I persisted in my effort to bring a ray of hope into his life. “Look at the bright side,” I said. “Your wife will soon be able to vent her fury in legislative assemblies, address political meetings in her loudest yell and wrestle with the daily affairs of government. You will be free of her bullying and domination once and for all.”
This seemed to cheer him up a bit. I rubbed in more balm. “You can eat out, go watch a movie and hang out with your friends without any bother. No more cutting vegetables, no washing dishes and throwing out the garbage daily.” By now he was positively radiant. “Yes, yes,” he squeaked “Raise the yellow colour to full mast, let us celebrate our deliverance” he exhorted his group members.
That was when Presto’s cellphone rang and he shot out of his chair as if the seat had caught fire. He listened in rapt attention for a full minute, nodding his head vigorously, before going limp.
Oman Tribune
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