SARTORIAL MATTERS
While getting ready for a social do one fine evening, my better half (‘better’ in every sense) interrupted with, “Dear, you are not going to wear this tonight, are you?”
Now for all those hubbies whose dress sense, like mine, has nothing got to do with making a fashion statement, it is a strong cue that there’s something wrong with the choice of apparel. At the same time, how can the ‘dear’ husbands so readily agree to what the wives say!
So I reminded her, while struggling to fasten the third button of my vest that only the other day, in one of those hard to find ‘rare moments’ of the middle age, she had remarked that the unflamboyant ‘three piece’ suits my solemn self.
She dismissively agreed that she did compliment me, but came up scathingly with, “It does not mean you pick it up every time we go out.”
Of course, I did not like this intrusion one bit, especially when I had finally succeeded in showing the stubborn third button its rightful place, just above my paunch.
“Now look darling. Four months back when the Mehtas had that grand celebration of the first birthday of their son, where all the who’s who of the town had come, you had worn this same dress. You see it would be a needless repetition, when you have a variety to choose from,” she coaxed, while handing me the bandhgala.
“But who would remember what I had worn four months back?” I countered.
“Now don’t say that. Everybody does, except you. And in this case you had that Mrs. Arora accidentally (or was it deliberate?) spilling her drink on your left sleeve. The incident drew as much attention as the recent faux pas in the Oscars,” she made her point.
But also quick to understand that I had been offended, she tried to make up by asking for my ‘valued’ opinion on which of the two sarees she should wrap herself in. And once again I fell for it, not just hook, line and sinker, but the whole six yards. I was momentarily made to believe that I also carry an opinion on sartorial matters. But before I could really apply myself to the task and give my judgement, she had already announced her verdict, just as it happens every time.
I have a sneaking feeling that asking for the hubby’s view on what to wear is the same as asking him what to have for dinner. Both are redundant. Actually, the mind is already made up. The whole thing is a ruse to wrongly give the impression that he is the boss. Boss he is, but with her permission.
Anyhow, quite impressed with her indelible memory (for that matter nearly all women have it) and completely aware that she’s sartorially savvier than me, I decided to swallow my ‘pride’ and leave matters at that, but not before this parting shot, “I think I also saw you wearing this same saree not very many days ago.”
She looked at me contemptuously, like a veteran of a game looks at a novice.
“Now you are confusing this ‘blush’ pink with ‘brink’ pink (Anyways, men are supposed to be colour blind when it comes to shades). I have worn this ‘blush’ pink just twice ever since I bought it in the Deepawali sale two years ago. The first time, last year when the Aroras had called us to their Housewarming party. It was a very low key affair with just the presence of their neighbourhood and immediate family. The Joshis had not been invited.”
Incidentally, it was the marriage anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Joshi for which we were getting all dressed up. Her point was that for the Joshis and also for the invitees there, it would be a first look at ‘blush pink.’
She continued, “And second time, when I had gone to Mrs. Sodhi’s place two months back to discuss Jayati’s (our daughter) admission prospects in a Canadian university. She’s also among the guests today, but, when I bumped into her in the Mall the other day she told me that she’ll not be able to make it. Their son’s flight is due from Canada this evening, you see.” There was that air of supreme confidence about her like a political party has after sweeping away the polls.
She gave herself one last look at the mirror and off we went for the party at Joshi’s place.
The hosts warmly welcomed us at the entrance and pleasantries were exchanged.
Just when we were slipping into the party mood, a familiar, husky voice greeted us cheerfully with, “Hello Mrs. Pant. Isn’t it wonderful to meet again so soon?”
And there was Mrs. Sodhi at her radiant best.
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