Agreeing to Disagree
The Man I Live With : Act 1
We were going for our walk today, the man I live with, and I. I told him, like any sensible, intelligent, human being would, that since we were going walking, why don’t we walk all the way to the Park, which is no more than a ten-minute walk, instead of driving up to the Park, and then walking there.
He looks at me narrowly, and barks, “Why?”
“Because,” I told him unwisely, “the Paala is flowering, and there are trees on both sides of the road, and I want to sniff them as we walk.” He opened and closed his mouth several times, to give me a stinging reply: I waited. Finally, he said nothing, grabbed the car keys and strode out, shaking his head. Evidently, his thoughts were too complex to be voiced.
So I had to be content with sniffing some of the trees on the tree-lined avenue, by the creek, on the road we walk, interrupting his weighty monologues about covid, vaccines, sold media, WHO, customs duties, port charges, how one should never be a creature of habit, etc, saying, “there, there, that one is flowering, look, look!” and “doesn’t that smell fragrant!”, “Oh, my!”. He would stop for a minute and say repressively, “No, I can’t,” and continue, like a steam roller, with his interrupted monologue, after staring hard at me, and deciding that I was harmless after all.
Sometimes, I would stop dead, staring, trying to click a picture, and he would walk on, talking, not realising that I had stopped, until he missed my presence, and then turn around and stand there glaring in exasperation, till I ambled on slowly, caught up with him and gave him a brilliant, affectionate smile.
I have always been taught to be meek, obedient and submissive, you know. Sigh!
The Sun was gloriously brilliant today: did you see him?
