My association with women, it appears, dates back to my birth, nay, even before that. Except for a short period of girl hating in my boyhood, i have, like it or not always been thrown togetherwith the female of the species. it was therefore no surprise to me when the Haldia Refinery Ladies' Club were given a flat directly below mine for their Monday meetings and eatings.
The day before, begins with some of the ladies going out to help their friend whose turn it is to feed the fraternity. The conclave is to help the hostess in cooking. On the D-Day, dressing up starts as soon as the hubbies have hurried to office after lunch. Why the ladies dress to kill when there is no prey about is something i have not been able to understand.
The husbands are enjoined to remember what day it is and to return home early. Evening tea is served almost on the doorstep to the men on their return. After a few hurried movements to and fro the bedroom, the kitchen ,the bathroom and so on (during which you are only conscious of the swishing of the Sari), with a loving smile, the lady departs leaving the children to the gentle (!) care of the gent.
The subsequent happenings in the L.C. have been matter of great conjecture and curiosity among the men of the Haldia Refinery Township. Being one of the curiouser chaps, I decided to take advantage of my vantage position. The problem was how ? I might have been a Pipng Tom (refers to my stint with the Pipelines Division of Indian Oil) but am certainly not a Peeping Tom. The only way left was to glue the ear to the floor and get an audio version of the events, the visual one having been ruled out.
Here is the intelligence report. At least a part of it.
A booming voice :- " Can you imagine ? My husband had........
A whining voice :- " Just when I was starting...my..son.....
A honeyed voice :- " Oh ! s..o n..i..c..e to see you dear Mrs.......
The whining voice :- " spoiled his pants and then.........
The booming voice :- " late. He knew very well that.......
The whining voice :- "I had to change his pants and.......
A grave voice :- " Yes, I was in KOlkata..........
A babyish voice :- " No. My husband is a good boy. He always......
The honeyed voice :- ' And how is dear Mita ? She is s..u..c..h a s..w..e..e...t.....
The babyish voice :- " Comes early on Mondays and then......
The grave voice :- " Mita's school has started. She is quite......
The booming voice :- " And here comes Her Highness Mrs. Lall, late as usual........
By this time, friends, I lost my patience and unglued the ear. Making sense out of these intermingling voices was a bit hard on the nerves. Lighting up a cigarette, I put my feet up the centre table. After all, every day is not Monday.So why not relax ? Switched on the Radio. poor thing could not compete in volume or variety. Switched it off. The voices still buzzed in my ears.
All of a sudden, there was no sound at all. The silence was so overpowering, i could almost hear it. i was frightened. Had anything untoward happened ? I am always scared of silent sirens. Slowly, I got down the stairs and sheepishly walked past the L.C. door, casting just a wee bit of a glance in the direction of the ladies and I had my answer to the puzzle. God has designed the mouth for fulfilling only one purpose at a time. It can either speak or eat !
Outside, I came across droves of children accompanied by forlorn looking fathers sauntering on the road. some of the enterprising children managed to need the mummy when she was masticating. they were rewarded over mummy's protestations by the hostess with the repast going round. the Community Centre was crowded with cackling children. no peace there either. Didn't know there were so many children in the colone. the Red Triangle chaps seem to have been sleeping.
So, back to Home..sweet..Home. Only it was lacking in one essential ingredient. The voices, babyish,honeyed,booming,grave,and whining, the giggles, the A..a..hs, tch..tchs..., the screams of delight and so on filtered into my flat.
Realization dawned on me as to why the Mahatma observed silence on Mondays. The Ashram must have had a Ladies' Club !
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