My Moment In Space

It was circa 1992,

When I first felt a pinch or two;

Married to a quintessential Army man,

I had to surreptitiously firm up my master plan!

Looking only after the children had lost its sheen,

Mending his socks was no longer my scene;

Now the time had come to explore something new,

I wanted to bid the housewifely chores adieu!

Picking up my degrees before they mildewed,

I set off on a job hunt without further ado;

No job is too big or small, I remembered my mother's words,

And started my career by teaching class three nerds!

The thrill of my first pay is still unparalleled,

I had with that booty all my husband's objections felled;

To keep peace with him nevertheless

I blew up the entire winnings on him in the process!

Buying him the shoes appropriate for his game of golf,

Earned me his gratitude by one full measure and a half;

With this masterstroke I had ensured,

In my earnings for years to come, he was forever lured!

I can never forget my early married life. With stars in my eyes, I had set out to be an ideal wife, not knowing in my naivete, that there is no such term! Living in a small cantonment somewhere in central India, I was happy playing house house to my Army man husband. He too reveled in his role of being the sole earner of the family. He didn't want me to do a job and I too was content just looking after him and the house.He slipped easily in the role of being 'doted upon ' husband and enjoyed it to the hilt. Keeping an immaculate house was number one agenda those days and cooking for the husband was a close second. I had to learn things like dusting under the table  which any one knows  will get dusty anyway,  but in the Army expect the unexpected!

Our house at any given point of  time, be it the day or night  was always at 'ready -for- inspection'  mode at a  moment's notice. Not a thing could be out of place and it dared not to too, with both of us heaping so much care and attention on it.Army wives (and their better halves) are extremely house proud and most of our early days went in shopping for small curios and knick knacks. Crystal glasses and vases could only be bought by the generous money packets handed over by our respective parents. These shopping sprees drove our families mad , who could not for the life of them fathom, what made us buy brass or pottery table lamps and cart them oh so delicately on our laps (like precious babies) to our little towns.

By the time the  children arrived, our house was a veritable death trap for crawling babies and waddling toddlers. They could not take a few steps without banging into some artifact or the other. All army brats learn to maneuver their way skillfully around the house littered with their parents' favourite possessions. It is to their credit they grow up still oving their parents!

By the time, my youngest was a robust toddler, I had lost the plot. I was brain fumblingly bored of just looking after the husband, children, curios and the ever-increasing army of plants. I wanted out. My mother's words of wisdom now made sense. She had always urged me to work and make a life for myself. In my newly married days . I had pooh pahed the very idea, wanting to be a stay-at-home wife and mother. Now, nothing could be farther from the truth.

Armed with my degrees I had pushed out of sight till now, I set out to find myself a job, ignoring my husband's disapproving frown. Well, the town was not bursting with any job opportunities either, specially for a late -in-the-twenties newbie and I had to settle for a job as a teacher in a school nearby. Initial days were rough, not being used to a job, planning and managing the day and childrens' routine was hair raising , but gradually things settled down in a groove. After one week of dragging myself to school, I slowly started enjoying the routine and loved my time-off from the ever demanding family. The brain too heaved a sigh of relief to be a part of action again!

The month dragged slowly but the end brought in my first pay. Oh! What a thrilling experience it was to hold the cheque and see my name printed on it. The amount written on it was the cherry on the cake. I flew home as if on wings and presented it to my husband, in a flourish. He peered into the cheque and I could see a glimmer of pride and respect shining out of his eyes. Though unsaid, I knew I had won him over and the days of disapproval were now firmly behind us.

To appease him further and make him understand the happiness I found in spending my own money, I bought him his long awaited, but till then out of reach, pair of golfing shoes. His joy and an uncharacteristic loss of words on seeing his spiked shoes was something I have not forgotten, and I am sure nor has he, however many he bought afterwards. If eyes could be the voice of love my husband,then look on!!

The traction and stability that his shoes provided him when he played golf thereafter, was the same that we experienced in our marriage since then, with both of us earning and providing for our family. A marriage of equals is a happy and loving partnership, which makes life a delightful journey till the end.