A day in the life of not-so-better-half..

Without doubt, managing to set-up a home and run it like a well-oiled machine is a mammoth task and the fact that women are much better at it than their male counterparts is a foregone conclusion. Not that I am not aware of this universal truth, just that it was re-emphasized on a day that I least expected.

I took over the reins of performing this role that my better-half does with élan, for a couple of days when my wife had to step out as a participant in a musical concert. Having managed the home front during my bachelor days and on a couple of occasions as a married bachelor, I presumed it would be pretty cool. In fact I hoped that it would bring back some nostalgic memories of the yester-years. Coming from a family of musicians and fine arts, singing comes naturally to my wife. And like all else, one needs a good coach and mentor to train and direct ones skills in the desired direction. She continues to train under the tutelage of an emerging Hindustani vocalist and Harmonium/Keyboard player. With a couple of years of training I can confidently announce that my wife is a pretty good amateur vocalist in the genre of Hindustani classical music.

When her teacher and coach decided to give an opportunity to perform to a select audience in a north Karnataka city known for having nurtured well known Hindustani classical musicians, we – my sons and I encouraged her to sign-on. That she performed well and was rewarded with a standing ovation isn’t the story that I wanted to relate. It so happened that while she performed well, I was goofing up in managing the home front.

Comical at times, it was also a revelation of sorts! I used to announce the dish I would prepare much in advance to my sons and create an expectation of sorts. Looking back in time, I should have heeded the warnings of a close friend of mine from Kolkata days, between 1983 and 92. He had an amazing sense of humor with his punch lines! Whenever he stayed back at my place for breakfast, lunch or dinner he would insist that I make the dish first and give it a name later. Quite aptly put, if I may take a dig at myself! The Upma I had prepared for breakfast turned out to be soggy with excess water and tasted more like Ganjji – a diet normally reserved for the very sick.

Not learning from past mistakes is a pretty common trait and quite contrary to what is explicitly told even in an organization. I would however, like to be a bit kind to myself and just say that ‘history has an uncanny habit of repeating’. As part of her preparations, my wife had given me clear instruction on which cooking powder was kept where and the ‘know-all’ guy that I thought myself to be, I did not pay much attention hoping that my sensitive olfactory system would guide me correctly if the need arose. And so, from the kitchen in ground floor I shouted about the proposed menu so that my sons could hear me at the first floor. I said that I would make mixed vegetable curry-rice not realizing the trap that I was laying for myself. However, to my good luck, both the boys were immersed in whatever they were doing on their respective laptops with Bose headphones covering their ears. Presumably, they wouldn’t have heard me at all.

Till the time the chopped and assorted vegetables were cooked, I was on the dot. I was making my first attempt at parallel processing. It is truly amazing how our wives can really juggle around with a cellphone held between the ear and a raised shoulder, one hand stirring , the other searching for a missing ingredient and all the while listening to music blaring from a favorite FM channel. The list of things they can handle simultaneously can go on and on. Granted that we can nowhere match this skill, I made a brave effort to see how close I could get. While the vegetables were cooking, I made arrangements to soak, wash, rinse rice and place it in the rice cooker. I was attempting to use the Just-in-Time concept by coordinating all the independent activities so that output from these would be ready ingredients for the final act!

Both boys love all kinds of curry rice and hence my wife prepares and stocks curry powder mix in a big Tupperware jar that normally lasts for a month. With the rice done in the rice-cooker, the final act was to sprinkle generous portions of curry powder on the cooked vegetables, add the cooked rice to it and after a thorough mix and a pinch of salt to taste…yahoo! The curry rice would be ready!! Both my boys like cucumber, tomato, onion raita along with curry rice. I pride myself in cutting vegetables to geometrically exact shapes - rectangular or square with a high degree of precision and good repeatability!! The job was to cut/chop/slice these vegetables to fine bits add freshly purchased Nandini curds to it and with a pinch of salt to taste the raita would be ready.

Like the proverb – ‘proof of the pudding is in eating,’ a couple of morsels later, I felt something was odd with the curry rice and I wasn’t able to put a finger on the flaw. I asked both boys and they put up an extremely brave face and said there was nothing wrong. Come to think of it, they were probably trying to be nice to their dad but the writing was on the wall. A substantial portion of the curry rice was untouched, it generally isn’t so and in fact it gets polished pretty soon the dish is placed on the table when my wife prepares. I kept racking my dumb brains to think what had gone wrong but wasn’t able to get a clue. While eating it myself, my taste buds sensed something strange…the lingering smell and taste of dalchini (cinnamon, in English) – I was dead sure that this ingredient does not form a part of south Indian curry powder! A perfectly measured quantity of dalchini gives it the typical north Indian garam-masala flavor, a bit in excess gives it a Pakistani touch and I know this from my short stint at Dubai. I however banished these stray thoughts from my mind hoping that these were figments of my wild imagination.

I was only able to crack the defect soon after my wife returned home! The powder that I had used so generously for making the typical south Indian variety of mixed vegetable curry rice was in fact pav-bhaji masala…my nose was honestly giving the right signals but I had ignored it and the result was indeed a disaster. As is typical, I got into an endless debate with my wife on the positioning of the Tupperware box with pav-bhaji masala…I kept insisting that she should not have mixed ingredients from North with South in the same cupboard…I had to finally let go, after all it is her territory and I was just a guest for a few days. Going back to what my Kolkata friend had told me years back was like a prophecy come true! I should have named it rice-bhaji, post cooking!! Honestly folks, don’t ever try it…rice and mixed vegetable with pav-bhaji masala substituted as curry powder is an awful combination. When my elder son softly suggested that we order for pizzas the following night, I sheepishly grinned and agreed. We had a very good meal the 2nd night and could sleep peacefully and well.

I now realize why the wife is usually referred to, as the ‘better-half’!!