A low double bed with a crumpled bed-sheet with the mattress peeking out from one corner. Four pillows strewn all over. A pack of condoms, undergarments, two tees are lying in the nook across.
Enter, Mrs Ramamoorthy, the snoopy neighbour who’s on the wrong side of forty.
Now Mrs Ramamoorthy makes it a point to trespass into the apartment house at least one day in a week. The official reason to barge into the flat is the ‘sudden’ need of a cup of milk for tea.
The real reason? Some gossip to spice up her boring afternoon congregation of housewives at the children’s park.
Now this is what Ramamoorthy told her ‘friends’ at the park.
Day 1:
“You know na? These days kids make a show of everything. You tell me, what’s the use of living together when you can very well get married? I was telling my husband the other day that we didn’t make a show that we are having it when we get married (she doesn’t have it now, of course)…. Uff! Everything that these kids can think about is nothing but sex. And sex (she makes her eyes roll). My god! I am sure that they are into tying up and all. Know what, (she gently pats her saheli) They are doing it all the time! God you know what! I can even hear her moaning at the dead of the night…(a one-minute snack break)…. The other day, I even saw him caressing her in the living room. I tried to attract their attention by tapping my feet and clearing my throat, but who listens to me? My god! That you are living together doesn’t mean that you will have to make a show of it all the time”.
The conversation goes on punctuated with some heavy sighs and the regulation interjection of ‘Hai Ishwara!’ with an unmistakable tinge of frustration.
Day 365:
The same couple have got married. And Mrs Ramamoorthy was a special invitee to the marriage. She gave the bride a ‘costly’ saree of Rs 1200 and parked herself with her kids at the couple’s apartment for the three days. Post the wedding, Mrs Ramamoorthy hasn’t forgotten her sly morning trips for milk.
The scene is the same at seven in the morning. Crumpled bedsheet and pillows strewn everywhere the bedroom. But this was what Mrs Ramamoorthy had to tell her friends the following afternoon.
“I tell my kids that I will never let you marry when you are in your thirties…Look at the way they keep the house. The pillows are scattered everywhere, don’t they guys have the time to even make the bed properly? I can understand that they both have to reach office early in the morning but this is also no way to run a house. The girl has not learnt anything from her mother, I say. They are perfect example how a marriage shouldn’t be. I plan to sit with the girl and train her how to make a bed.”
You can’t miss the obvious sarcasm in her tone and of course, her voice speaks of loads of confidence.
After all, Mrs Ramamoorthy is a better housewife.
