Three Cheers to Valiant Husbands

Yesterday was the day of agony for my wife. Our Washing Machine [WM], her favorite contraption, and with which she had spent most of her time than what she did with me, breathed its last after toiling for our family for a decade and a half. Months back, it did indicate that all was not well with it by not being able to rotate its washing system. But then, my better-half, a hard core optimist who would fly kites even in a hurricane, dismissed the machine’s warning gestures and told me that the WM would hold back its breath at least for a year or two. Assured by her extravagant statement, I put my laundry into the wash tub and turned the power on. Gosh! The bloody machine stopped with a big groan and a bang as soon as it started working.

 My attempts to Rev up the machine went waste – I shook it and slapped it on the sides many times. The contraption, having got its life snapped in a trice, was there in the service room, lying in state and giving a handle to my wife to pour on me her choicest allegations/blaming. “You only killed the machine. You novice, how long can I put up with your dilly-tallying with home gadgets and making them work erratic?” Wife sneered at me despite her knowing that the machine was already in coma.

Soon a mechanic came, examined the machine and declared it dead. My wife was a bit disappointed and asked him if the machine died naturally due to its own wear and tear or to the meddling of someone. She glanced at me sideways. The mechanic smirked and said, “Ma’am, how long would you like a WM to work for you. 15 years is quite a time.’’ ‘Hi, mechanic, my savior, I moaned, you’ve unwittingly saved me from a noose. Your help will soon be rewarded.’

Now, there came a swanky, smart and fully automatic machine, a brand new one in shimmering white color. Came along with it was a service man; he demonstrated the functions of the machine with a flourish but in flawed and pedestrian English. He then gave me the user-manual and told me I could refer to it in case of doubt.

But to his shock, I returned back the manual to him and said: “Please hand over this manual to ma’am. I don’t know English.”

[This skit is dedicated to all Valiant Husbands to whose tribe I belong to]