Preface
Naval Langa's ( humorous, but I am sure apocryphal) blog about his travails, during his t...
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Preface
Naval Langa's ( humorous, but I am sure apocryphal) blog about his travails, during his travels with his wife, got me thinking. This was something I had heard from my long departed father, who I loved and respected, so dearly. Though it was not quite true, he loved to tell everybody, that he was thoroughly henpecked. This was what could be considered his hobby horse and when he rode it, he did it with gusto.
My father in fact claimed to be President of the Henpecked Husband's Society implying that was some kind of 'SPCA' for husbands. In my minds eye I remember the knowing smile from my mother, when he narrated, the joke about Ali and Abdulla, which he did several times, in my presence. That smile of hers essentially said she had seen that dead horse being beaten before. I have taken that joke and turned it into a parable, with some added Mirchi and Masala.
Ali's Plight and the Meeting of Friends
Ali had been married a few years, but it looked and felt as if it had been much longer. His wife Fatima Bi was constantly on his case and he was generally and thoroughly terrified of her. If he did something even a shade different from her clear and precise instructions, the kitchen utensils and finally even the kitchen sink would fly in his direction. His whole life since his fateful Nikah with Fatima Bi, had been spent either following her instructions to a T or else unsuccessfully avoiding projectiles hurled at his direction. He felt that his cup of misery ran over.
Ali was one day lazily walking down the Kasbah, thinking of his last beating and wistfully wondering how he could possibly reassert himself, when he was accosted by a voice from behind. A voice from the past shouted in apparent joy " Ali Agha! Ali Agha! What Luck, seeing you, after all these years". He looked up from his reverie and saw his long lost friend, Abdulla, grinning at him, from ear to ear. The old friends embraced each other. They had not met for nearly two decades, ever since they had left school. They decided to exchange reminiscences, of the good old days, over a cup of thick hot Turkish coffee.
During the time they spent talking, Ali looked furtively around him, hoping that Fatima Bi would not happen to pass by, on some errand, as hell would then break loose, if she saw him gallivanting with an apparent stranger. As she had specifically asked him to complete an assignment and then come directly back. As she had been generous in her estimate of the time to complete the chore, she would brook no impertinence on his part, of gadding about, after the job was done. Ali had completed the assignment in very good time, but his stationary position in a coffee shop, worried him a little. A moving object is less liable to be noticed by the prying eyes of Fatima Bi and he heaved a sigh of relief, when his friend said that they should now move to his house, which was in a part of town, not frequented by Fatima Bi.
When Ali wished to stop to buy some baklava as a gift for Nadira Bi, Abdulla's wife, his friend waved his hands decisively and said " No need, No need" and refused to allow Ali to stop. Ali was afraid that both he and Abdulla Beg, would catch it from Nadira Bi for dawdling in the Kasbah and for Ali not bringing a gift, while visiting her.
Finally Ali and Abdulla reached the latter's house, and Abdulla banged on the door with loud raps of his knuckles. Ali was terrified at the din that Abdulla was creating and his back smarted at the very thought of probable, no certain, beatings, that an incensed Fatima Bi , would administer on him, in a similar situation.
Abdulla's Home
The door opened and out came a ravishing houri of a woman, who bowed low to her husband and said sweetly, 'welcome master'. Ali took a double take. 'Did she say Monster? No it was Master: she must be a slave, the wife must be resting' Abdulla grunted and held out his shod feet. The ravishing houri patiently removed his shoes. He then said abruptly, "get some drinks for my friend and that special Hookah after filling it with that superior brand of Marijuana, from the upper drawer." There was not so much as a 'by your leave', nor an introduction of his friend. But just demands, that did not brook any contradicting.
The houri returned with the drinks and the Hookah. Abdulla grabbed the Hookah, took a pull and cursed loudly and threw it at the unfortunate houri, embers and all, saying " You, she devil ! I asked you to get the superior marijuana from the upper drawer, this looks like the normal one that we use, when your father comes to visit" Saying that, he continued to berate her in the worst way possible. After she had left, Ali told his friend, that even if the woman was his slave, it was wrong for him to treat her so. "What slave? " Abdulla asked, adding,” she is Nadira Bi, my wife".
Ali was astounded and not a little elated, to have been fortunate enough to have witnessed such an unprecedented scene. 'That will show them' he thought meaning 'the wives of the world', but in his cowering heart of hearts he also meant Fatima Bi, but that was a sub conscious thought, for he dare not consciously even think such dangerous thoughts. He asked a quick gasping question with a genuine sense of admiration and wonder” How, how do you do it?" He explained his personal situation and his relations with Fatima Bi. Abdulla after making the necessary commiserations at Ali's plight, smiled and in answer to Ali's question said, " There lies a Tale".
Abdulla's Tale
" You know after we left school, I went to Basra to learn the trade from my father's friend who was a Merchant there. His daughter Nadira was a young woman who was the queen of my master's household, he was a widower and she was the only child. I prospered in my work and my master soon made me his agent responsible for Istanbul and prepared to send me here. But before this, he arranged and celebrated my marriage with Nadira. We had been good friends, but she was still my former master's daughter and I was not a little concerned about the difference in our stations. That, all that changed during the wedding night." he concluded.
Ali looked quizzical and still unbelieving, Abdulla smiled and continued" This was our wedding night, the Nikah had been attended by all the prominent merchants of Basra, now we had been ceremoniously taken to marriage bed, decorated with beads and flowers and perfumed with frankincense and myrrh. We entered the bedchamber and closed the door. As we did that, a cat jumped out of one of the open cabinets, right on to the bed. I was so irritated that I took out my Yatagan (sword) and halved the cat, there was a mess on the bed. Nadira cleaned up the gore and then we went on with our business. Since then, I have been the lord and master and Nadira has never spoken a word in edgeways." Thus ended Abdulla's long explanation and it was time for Ali to return.
Ali was now a man with a mission. He thanked his friend profusely and hurried home. On his way, he went to the local blacksmith and bought an used yatagan and went to the menagerie and bought a cat. Taking a cat in the bag and the yatagan hid behind his coat he entered the house. He let the cat, out of the bag and called out to Fatima Bi. Fatima Bi, with an irritated expression carrying a heavy ladle in her hand, entered the hall. Suddenly the cat sprang from the corner and Ali with a kind of finality, halved the cat. And then all hell broke loose: With an enraged scream, Fatima Bi fell upon the hapless Ali with the ladle and beat him black and blue. And when she did not find the ladle to be sufficiently painful, she picked up her usual and familiar projectiles, which in most cases hit their mark. After a time, as if tired out, Fatima Bi drove Ali out of the house without dinner and with no expectation on when he could return.
The Moral of the Parable
Ali nursed his wounds at the local caravan serai that night and the next morning he trudged on to his friend’s home and sadly narrated the happenings of the previous night. Abdulla sadly shook both his head and and his index finger at Ali and said dolefully " Gurba Barove Avval Bayush Kusht":"You ought to have killed the Cat on the first day !"
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Thank you Supriya. The upper hand is not all that great in this context it depends on circumstances.
Rgds, Girdhar
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LOL :-) Liked it GG :-) Some men have all the luck... and some are always down on it ;-) cats notwithstanding!
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Thank you Raju, it was a funny situation.
Rgds, Girdhar
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It was really funny !!!
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She heard this from my father(her father in law) when he was alive and now she hears from me. But, I do not practice what I preach, amdt she however suceeded in killing the cat without actually doing so,
Rgds, your friend, Girdhar
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girdharji , lovely and lovingly told pure good humour here
does mrs gopal know about this story ..yu in big trouble , my friend jaijui
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Bhiku: Not only the cat should be killed but it should be seen by the wife, to have been killed.
Rgds, Girdhar
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Bina: Thank you for accepting reality. There are only two types of husbands, one that accept and flaunt their status of being henpecked and the other kind that refuse to accept that reality. Thank you for your recommendation.
Rgds, Girdhar
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girdhar
in a roomful of men the only person who had lifted his arm to say he was not henpecked
was the one who'd been told by his wife to do so
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Girdhar Gopal : Loved this one, very entertaining, this is where most men falter - not killing the cat so the speak :-)
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