I ate an early heavy dinner today. Karma goes to play basket ball these days. I have no objection in playing sports, but playing cards is what I cannot accept. Not that I see it be utterly useless or anything but without any good reasons, I don’t find it good. I had been waiting for him to come home. I wanted to open the door as he returned, and I wanted to serve him dinner like a good wife would do. But rather a not-so-in-a-rush person, he is always late by the count of my time.
Earlier in the evening, I told him, ‘you will reach home only after three hours,’ and he replied that he comes home straight from the game and it isn’t 3 hours. But I was right. We humans always keep record of time in our head when we are supposed to wait for someone. And so when that someone doesn’t return in the expected time, you get impatient. I thought I will not call him but I did when I thought he should have been home. He said, ‘I’m on my way honey.’ I thought it wouldn’t take 10 minutes to reach home from the swimming pool area. When he didn’t reach home in that expected time, I dozed off on the sofa.
My plan of wanting to be a good wife serving her husband dinner no longer stayed with me. I went to the bedroom and slumped on the bed. Even as I heard the door bell ring, even as he came to me and murmured the demand of wanting me to sweet-treat him like a baby, I slumbered off.
I thought, ‘ah let it go.’ I mean this plan of wanting to wait for him and serve him dinner. I don’t see it as very important but my mother tells me to serve him. But honestly, I don’t see it to be important. How can it define a wife to be good or bad?
And now, as he is in his dream world, sleeping behind me, breathing softly, I am here. He wanted me to get up and pray before it was midnight. When I said I could pray even if it crossed midnight, he said, it would be the next day then. I did wake up to pray before midnight. But especially at such hours of late night (it’s 2:00 a.m. now), as silence squeaks the corners of all our senses, I like doing the writing and that is how I’m here now, again, not fitting in the criteria of a good wife. If I were one, I probably would have to lie beside him, hugging him close. But let that go too for now.