My Asexual T-shirt
I unlocked the door of my home and pushed it open. I fanned my arms and closed my eyes and waited for my kids to leap into my arms. It was a routine my kids never missed. And it was a routine I always looked forward for.
Suddenly a tornado struck me. Stuck between my arms were not my bacche but my almost a ton tanna ton biwi. I pushed her aside and tried to control my struck by thunder kinda emotions. But my brain and my heart had already communicated my feelings to my lips which refused to remain pursed and bas woh bol padde,
” Itna chipak kyo raahe hai? Dooor hoo.”
She can switch from romantic to maniac in a second,
” Kyo, tumhe itching hone lagee kya?”
I needed time to change my emotional status to display wide range of human emotions, a man is obliged to exhibit in the front of his family. Sedhi baat can cause injury. But my wife could change the gears of emotions at a much faster pace.
” Nahi….. Where are the kids?” All I wished for was a cup of hot tea.
“Am I your PA?” She had a thermostat problem and went from shimmering hot to boiling hot coz of just one sentence of mine.
As it was no use asking a fuming wife anything more, I decided to squeeze my way past her. My eyes glimpsed something familiar and I stopped in my tracks. Imagine a narrow corridor, a ton tanna ton biwi and ek taraf deewar and ek taraaf WOH…. beech me mai.
” Why are you wearing my T shirt?” My irritation had gathered momentum. I wanted to grind my teeth but I just managed to wispher. SAANS nahi le ja rahee thee. It was the first time I realized that to scream, we must be able to take that GAHAREE saans. And you can’t take gaharee saans in SUCH a corridor.
” Kyo…. What is the problem if I wear it? ”
” I dont want to start an argument but I told you a hundred times before that don’t wear my T shirt!!!!”
” Now that makes it 101.” She scowled back at me.
” What 101?” I didnt quite understand what she meant.
” Even if you ask me doo sau ekyaavan bar….still i wear will wear what i want and when i want and where i want. THAT MEANS I WILL WEAR YOUR T shirts!”
I decided to give her a good fight and finish it off once and for all.
” Suno Mattey ….it is unfair THAT you keep wearing my T shirts….. they are for me only …Better understand this. They are my Tshirts not KISSI DEVI KA BHOOG!”
Rule no 1….. if you want something done… be diplomatic….I tried to experiment with it.
” Why?? “
” Coz they are for me …… made for MAN!! Do I ever wear yours??”
” Accha MAHAPURUSHji… That is why Ramu Kaka can wear it…soo?? Wear mines if you wish too. I will not object.”
Now Ramu Kaka COMES TO CLEAN OUR HOME AND GETS TO WEAR MY OLD clothes.
” Can’t you understand…It’s my T-shirt. Once you wear, it is no longer a T- shirt, It becomes a Three Shirt..”
” Nahi…….This T-shirt says..ONE SIZE FITS ALL”
” Yes, one size fits all Males, not females….. Deekho mateehy , mere kapde maat pahana kar.”
” I will wear your TOUCH ME NOT Tshirts. Stop me if you can.” She was adamant.
I was getting restless so I decided to tell the real reason. Diplomacy GAYYEE BHAAD ME!
” See ..I didn’t want to tell you this but since you refuse to understand..”
I was praying already. I crossed my fingers, took a defiant posture and looked straight into her eyes and said,
” They get stretched after your wear them!”
” So what is the problem….. loose is better! Comfortable…”
” Deviji…….LOG BAAG pucchne lagee hai …. How did you developed SUCH A muscular chest??? Samjha kar…. WOH parashan karte hai!!! THE T- SHIRT GETS STRETCHED AT WRONG PLACES!”
She looked at me with hatred in her eyes….
” HA…. and my friends ask me when did you get PREGNANT…..eight months hai kya??…..That is when i wear yours!” She walked away imitating a pregnant ME…
Few minutes later she emerged …. HUGELY PREGNANT…..with 22 kilo SON of mine, clinging to her abdomen covered by layers of membranes made from my favorite shirt. I realised at that moment that my son is no longer that 2.2 kilo small premature baby delivered as an emmergency C-section. I COULD HEAR HIM SCREAMING FROM MY WIFE’S PREGNANT ABDOMEN….. strecting my asexual Tshirt, “Dad..deliver your baby, dad..ha ha ha.”
I acted with lightening speed to DELIVER my now mature son from his MOTHER’S ABDOMEN…… without having to perform a cesarian section on my Tshirt….
My Maatey ANd MY son’s mother was hysterically mimicking labour pains, tears streaming her cheeks… the after effects of her mad laughter. I heaved a sigh of relief when my son came out gigling with delight. I palpated my T-shirt to access the damage done to my Tshirt ignoring the gleams of joys radiating from my wife’s eyes. But just like stretch marks refuse to fade, my stretched T shirt was irreparably stretched.
I looked at my teary eyed, newly delivered and habouring just got a trophy kind of look wife and said,
” Keep this one as a present from me for delivering me my boy again and don’t dare to mix it in my clothes.” I had to say something. I was burning.
” Oh…. sure!” She went to talk to neighbours while I went in to make my Tea.
My hands ran on my abdomen…. stretched to accomodate the twins which had refused to deliver in past two years. The Tea boiled just as my blood did. I gave up the fight for one last TIME and went to the gym……determined to slim to a SIZE ZERO….sure then I will see which T shirt of mine will become asexual……. and fit the size 100.
A day later, my son came jumping, ” I became daddy! I became daddy!”
I don’t know how many daddys does my household have. He was wearing my T-Shirt just like his mother and jumping about. My Deviji CUM his daddyji was cheering him up for his antics and I was grinding my teeth. She gave me her famous cold stare,” He is a male…”.
I got up and just hit the gym….size Zero, size Zero….control! control! . It works.
Two days later my THAT Asexual T-shirt was rubbing with pleasure the PLATES and glasses in the kitchen. The glasses shined a winning smile. It had to burst beyond repair under size 100 ONE DAY. It did, so it was now used for cleaning in the kitchen. My Jooru smiled “Na rahega BAAS na baajege BANSURI”. In my mind i was controling my urges to CONVERT that baas or bansuri into a BAITH akka Lathi to control my Hathi! Yeh control bahuut hi kathin kaam hai!
MY other T-shirts still remain asexual while I am still working on size zero.
THE moral of the story is that when you want a cup of hot tea without hassels CHOOSE TO IGNORE your wife who is busy permanently stretching your T-shirts. After all they are ASEXUAL. Hide your favorites ones among her clothes coz that’s the last lot she will ever reach out for stretching….. Saab ke saab choote hai…size 5 non stretchable….. can never fit a HER size HUNDRED