Housewife. You could put that down in the occupation section.
I could’ve thwacked Him on the head for that one, were we not in a place as public as the International Airport at Mumbai. His mischievous grin reminded me that I was married to the imp for good, so I just put down Writer and tugged Him towards the security check-in.
I’m almost a week old in Australia now and the term housewife seems to become more real with each passing day. In India, during the idyllic post-wedding days, keeping house for Him seemed like the most natural thing to do for me.
Tune in to the here and now and the reality of sharing a life, living space, the couch, bathroom, reading light and so on in as intimately a manner as is possible with another person is slowly sinking in.
The fact that I am basically an immigrant wife living in Australian suburbia makes the entire transition even more strenuous. Suddenly those mousey immigrant wives languishing for their desh ki dharti as depicted in soaps and films are not so comically deplorable anymore. However contrary I may look for the part, put on a mangalsutra, salwar kameez, some gold or even a dawdling walk and *gasp* I may even look the part!
Let’s thanks our collective gods that I am several yards of saree and gold chains away from that picture of marital ho-hum. For now. Sigh.
Married life is a fascinating process to say the least and I doubt the novelty will wear off for another few years. A certain friend of mine would scoff at that period of time, but darleen… you must remember the ghastly months both of us have spent apart from each other during our courtship.
It’s wonderfully maddening- having each other around for such long stretches of the day. Each day we discover something new about each other.
Like His near-worshipful attitude towards the chocolates in the fridge. Like my obsession with keeping toothbrushes apart from hair brushes and comb-cleaning brushes and every other brush in use. Like our shared love for crazy rides on His ultra-sexy bike. Like the way two non-telly viewers suddenly like watching corny movies and inferior advertisements completely wrapped up around each other.
Marriage sure is fun when the grocery bills and misplaced pills and cooking and cleaning duties stay out of the picture. For the arguments that arise when these marriage flotsam do enter the scene, I only have this to say- they do make things more, um…interesting.
So here’s a hesitant but hopeful sukaala to marriage! Our’s that is.












15th August 2008: Wake up, attend mass & flag hoisting ceremony, watch prize distribution kaaryakram for the little Marathi paathshaala affiliated with our church, go home, laze around, eat chicken curry, sleep, wake up, go beaching, come home, eat, sleep.



Artefacts to admire, silences that rush to sooth your mind, words that spill from generous bookshelves, trinkets that hold the soul of a place in them, the nothingness you find in a warm shower or soak, instruments that marvellously make life more efficient… bliss can be found in the most unexpected of places.











