Monday , May 23 2022

A middle class housewife discovers a new world

“I would love to.”

“I can have one of our hotel cars drop you home if you like.”

“No aunty, don’t worry. I will take the local. The traffic will be too much anyway.”

The two women walked out of the office and towards the hotel lobby. As Reena escorted her young acquaintance through a crowd of guests waiting to check in, she noticed something. A few of the men discreetly checked out Mansi. Nothing blatant or disrespectful, but something Reena caught. It didn’t seem like innocent young Mansi had noticed though.

“Okay aunty, thank you so much again.” Mansi held her hands in gratitude.

“Stop thanking me, Mansi. Oh and wait!” Reena took out her phone. “Sunil, come here.”

She called out to a bellboy hanging around. She handed him the phone.

“Take a few pictures of me and my old friend here.”

“Oh.” Mansi smiled.

“Just to remember the occasion. Who knows when you will drop by again?”

“Oh come on, aunty. I will come again soon.”

Mansi said and the two posed for a picture, smiling. Sunil snapped a good one and was about to hand the phone back.

“Take a few more. My phone’s camera can be very unreliable.” Reena said.

And Sunil took half a dozen more pictures. Reena took the phone back from him. Mansi said goodbye once again and walked out of the hotel.

Reena went back to her office and looked at the pictures. Mansi had a nice smile, she noted. And she was not bad looking at all. Not exactly a drop-dead gorgeous hottie that would set the ramp on fire. But pretty enough to turn a few heads as she had just done in the lobby without realizing. Even in a conservatively wrapped sari, it was clear that she had a nice slim body. And a pleasant symmetric face with big eyes and a sharp nose, with a light-wheatish complexion.

Reena looked at the pictures for a little while more as she thought about everything Mansi had said about her money problems. She then opened her contacts list, found the name she was looking for. She chose the 3 best pictures she thought Sunil had taken. And forwarded them to that contact with a message.

‘What do you think?’


Mansi walked to Malad station and took the local to Borivali. Throughout her journey, she kept thinking of the time she had spent with Reena aunty. It all had seemed so nice and posh and plush. From the fancy hotel lobby to aunty’s tastefully furnished office to the restaurant they had eaten at. She was amazed at how crisp and clean the clothes of the waiters had been. And the waiters actually spoke English! The only waiters she was used to wore stained tattered clothes and looked like they hadn’t taken a bath in weeks.

Even the food itself was so unbelievably delicious. She had seen that the menu had a lot of French, Italian, and Spanish dishes. But with no idea about what those things were, she had ordered from the Indian part of the menu. Her usual order, dal fry and jeera rice. Aunty then asked if she was vegetarian. Mansi said no, she wasn’t. So aunty also ordered some fancy sounding chicken dish and a fish started. Everything, right down to the simple jeera rice, had tasted heavenly. Even the plain rice in that restaurant was so much tastier than what she was used to – super long grains like in Basmati advertisements, and lovely flavors. And then of course, there was the dessert, which Mansi decided was the best dessert she had ever had.

As she walked through the narrow lanes of Borivali East towards her building, Mansi started thinking less and less about that amazing time with Reena aunty, and more about the chores she had to do at home, and what she would cook for dinner. And then she remembered that she had to buy more onions. She walked towards her vegetable seller, mentally thinking about how to negotiate him down by 10-15 rupees.

That night, after dinner and cleaning the kitchen, she went to the bedroom. Pinky was asleep and Amar was reading a thick book about the Ottoman empire.


“Hmmm.” he responded.

“I am thinking about getting a job.”

Amar shut the book and looked at her.

“A job? You?” he said, surprised.

“Why not?” Mansi asked, a little hurt by his condescending tone.

“Why not indeed?” Amar shrugged and opened the book again. “What kind of a job?”

“I am not sure yet. But Pinky is now grown-up enough to not need my constant attention. She is at school most of the day. In the free time I have, I can earn something extra to support our finances.”

“So it’s about money?”


“Is it all about they money? Isn’t the world already materialistic and consumerist enough that I should hear this from my own wife?” Amar asked.

Mansi stared at him in shock. From the day she was matched with Amar for marriage, she knew that she was going to spend her time with an idealistic and academic man. And for eight years, she had heard his monologues and speeches and rants about society and materialism and everything. But to bring it into this?

“Come outside.” she quietly said.


“Come out to the living room and close the door behind you. I don’t want to wake Pinky up.”

Amar sighed and got up, following his wife as she angrily stormed out. As she had instructed, he closed the door.

“Yes, my dear wife.” Amar said in his typical condescending professorial way.

“What do you want from me?” Mansi said, her nostrils flaring.

“What do you mean?”

“I understand your principles and ideals and all that. But you don’t run the house. I do. You have no idea how difficult it is to stretch the budget, especially when I include all those parties you throw for your friends.”

“Mansi, hospitality is our…”

“Yes, yes, I have heard that before.” she said with a sneer. “All I said was, I would like to get a job. And yes, Mister Professor, it IS all about the money for me. If I can make a few thousand rupees more to buy my daughter whatever she wants, I don’t care if it is about the money.”

“Fine. Fine.” is all Amar said. “Get a job. When have I ever stopped you from getting a job?”

“Then what was that materialistic and consumerist taunt about????”

“It wasn’t a taunt. I was just expressing my opinion.”

“So I can get a job?”

“Again, Mansi, when have I ever stopped you from doing anything?”

The young wife stared at her husband. He wasn’t entirely wrong. He was a bit weird in his ways, and his habits and way of living did put a lot of stress on her. But he had never been a domineering demanding husband. Especially when it came to the question of getting a job, it was a brand new topic. She had never thought of it before. Her parents had raised and trained her to be a housewife, just like her mother and grandmother and aunts and all other women in her family had been. After marriage, she just assumed that position by default. It’s not like she had some great qualifications anyway.

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