When My Wife Caught Me With My Muse

And she stopped cooking and began roasting me instead

So my wife pulls me up in the hallway.

“What’s happening?” she asks in a tone that is a bit hazy.

“Everything usual,” I reply in my serious voice.

She leans forward, whispers, “oh really,” and then clicks her tongue twice.

So, I step back, get ready for her assault and it begins.

“You know I follow you on Medium, and keep a track of what you post. I may not say it often, but I get it what you write and how do you compose. These days I’m seeing, you have become very active in writing. It appears you have found a muse that has got your brain buzzing. She has got you all fired up, and brimming with imagination, and your words have turned poetic, and your voice into a deep rhythm.”

There is a little pause and I know it is my cue to respond.

“I know this baby,” I reply, “that you are my greatest supporter. It is for you I write everything, you should know this better. Your eyes, your face, and your voice are all that get me inspired. I write for you, and you only, nothing else I admire. It may seem that my inspiration comes from some place else, but rest assured that everything I write is by imagining your grace.”

She raises her eyebrows and steps back crossing her arms.

“See, don’t try this word-play with me, I have fallen for it once. Now this magic has faded, and all its secrets have come unstrung. There was a time when I would read your words and become dreamy, and run about the town in the haze of your love like a young girl dizzy. But now I have learned better, become mature, and accepted the fact that all guys are the same, they need to be kept in check and intact.”

I shake my head and guffaw as if I’m seriously hurt, and prepare to speak in a hurtful tone.

“You shame me, my love, by doubting my intentions and calling me a liar. Do you really take me as a man who is harboring other woman’s desires? I have loved you since I first saw you at that airport departure gate. Since then I have been obsessed with you, see you as goddess, as my fate. Every other girl has turned pale in comparison to your radiance. Even if I find someone attractive, my mind turns her into your fashion.”

Seeing her listening intently, with a smile on her angelic face, I throw in a couplet.

“But you should know that I’m a wannabe writer who likes the feel of words, and sometimes it does happen that someone’s words get me motivated.”

Her smile vanishes and a scowl appears.

“Okay, so listening to your whining, I give you this, you wannabe writer. That you are wasting your time writing couplets, better become a lawyer. You have a good sense of writing arguments than a story with a good plot. You will better serve petty criminals, minor cronies, and even despots. By writing appeals, you would at least get better money for your practice, and in return, I may get some LV bags, Gucci perfumes, and that necklace.”

I am about to reply but she stops me with a wave of a hand.

“I’m not done talking, so let me finish, and you get this with full sense. It’s okay, I allow you, go on, be inspired, write some love-filled sentences. But remember that I am the girl who gave up my world and my soul. For you, I left my family home, my friend circle, and all that I adored. But I have no regret for whatever I did because I did it for my greatest love. So now, keep this in mind while you write couplets on your stupid blog.”

Seeing her convinced, I say thank you, kiss her, and turn towards my study to write.

“Not so quickly mister, take off your nice shirt, wear your kitchen apron. There are dishes in the sink that needs scrubbing and proper cleaning. The entire house is full of cobwebs, dust which are screaming vacuum, and there is this wild grass in garden akin to a jungle that needs mowing”

I rue the fact that Sunday afternoon is gone. But at least this will keep her happy, and I still have a blessed evening to write.

I turn, but her sharp words make me stop —

“As your brazen act has done me serious hurt, filled me with womanly tears. Now compensate for this, and think about what you’ll cook for the dinner.”

And I sigh as I know my evening is gone, too.

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