These last days, first my wife broke her mobile phone screen, and I’d barely finished ticking her off when, through a chain of circumstances, mine wound up with its own web of cracks. My shoes sprung a hole, a shirt frayed at the elbow and the replacement turned out to have its buttons missing. The TV remote gave up its ghost and no amount of banging or change of battery could get it going again. The bathroom door locked in on itself, so I had to break the window to get in. The faucet sprung a leak, the tripped MCBs required replacement, the table lamp socket stopped working, the dining room air conditioner died, the ceiling sprung a leak, someone stained the living room wall with what smells like coffee, the refrigerator compressor went kerplunk.
Bad hair day? The bumper of my daughter’s car bumper came off, mine required a change of tyres, the driver decided to go AWOL, the Uber chauffeur insisted on queuing up for CNG ahead of an important meeting, my wife came down with a hacking cough, the part-time took her fortnightly off without notice — and we are still without bread at home.
My son misplaced his Aadhaar card and couldn’t locate copies for his paperwork, I lost my Notes app on the phone and with it my credit card codes, the online electricity password and all banking details. The cheque slips ran out, the car’s fuel tank indicator stopped working, my wife mislaid the house keys, the dog’s allergy medicines couldn’t be found, someone removed my umbrella leaving me to get drenched in the rain. The internet blinked off just as I had to send a file, our son missed his flight from Chennai, my wife’s friend who was hitching a ride fetched up an hour late, blamed the traffic and insisted on a cup of tea to revive her before we could leave, causing further delay and resulting in a fight that my wife and I have still to resolve.
It’s early morning as I write this, it’s drizzling outside, the newspapers flung over the wall are damp, the dog ran out to fetch them and is stinking from being wet or because he’s thrown up on the couch — and there’s still no bread at home. The driver called to say he can’t come because it’s raining, the power’s gone, the cleaning lady has dropped a pile of plates and is crying instead of cleaning up the mess, my daughter’s office tiffin is not packed so she’s having a tantrum, my son chose to go directly from the gym to the office so my wife has taken the car to drop off his clothes, and I’m hoping she’ll return soon even though she seems in no hurry to leave Sarla’s home where she stopped for a loo break as I wait to leave for work.
