Abdu

my take on a real life episode

"Damn this weather!", Abdu's wife grunted through her teeth and threw the stale curry into the kitchen sink.

She hadn't finished.

"Damn you too, Abdu! And your business!", she howled for Abdu to hear, not that it was required. Two lightly mortared brick walls and a corridor with just enough space for one malnourished human body to walk through, separated the husband and wife. Every whisper carried. Now, acoustics was not exactly Abdu's priority when his modest two room house was being built. But he liked to think of it as the silver lining on his cloud that had dried and shriveled up long since. Abdu heard and let out a feeble "aah", in agreement. If there was one thing Abdu did learn from his father, other than how to completely and irreparably fail at any business, it was this - square off with the wife and square meal's off the table. A dutiful son, Abdu never forgot either of these lessons. 

The issue at hand was cold storage. Refrigerators had been invented some time back and, hence, the lack of it presented an opportunity cost Abdu's wife did not take to kindly. "Why", she would ask, "can't you just buy one?". Abdu would reply with "hmm". A man of moderate intelligence, Abdu knew "hmm" could be interpreted in different ways. A specific answer to her question would result in her trying to come up with a solution; that would involve haggling; and that would result in him missing a square meal. The horror would be if she did succeed in coming up with a solution; that would lead to a monetary transaction that Abdu did not find worth making. "Hmm", on the other hand, presented a whole myriad of options ranging from "We don't have the money" to "We might have to break the corridor walls - I'm not sure the fridge would go through". And she would back off, lost, resigning to the destiny that embraced her the moment they got married. Anyway, Abdu figured, why should he buy a refrigerator? He gets to eat freshly cooked food each day - what else are wives for? 

Two days had passed since Abdu let out his "aah". Abdu stood among the crowd that thronged the Friday market. All he could hear was, "oranges". Indeed all he could see around was oranges - green, yellow, orange and rotten. He deliberated on buying some. Then, Abdu struck gold in his mind. This isn't the season for Oranges. This deluge of oranges had been caused by Manzoor. Manzoor, of Gafa, who, rumors say, has a kitchen for every bedroom in his mansion. More importantly, Manzoor, who dumps the excesses in to small markets like these, sells them by the cases, makes a fortune and leaves for bigger pastures. This gala was not going to last. A week at best, and then Oranges would be sold by the dozen, again. Abdu's business acumen gave him a suggestion - money could be made. 

Abdu's wife was at the door when he reached. If she was any weaker of the heart, she would have died of surprise. The bullock cart came to a halt. On it, with his legs crossed, sat Abdu, over a bed of considerably large wooden cases; a shade of green peering through the gaps between the planks. He alighted and gave orders for the dozen cases to be taken inside the house. Abdu's wife, still reconciling with the sight before her, found herself hoping that their floor does not give away under the weight of the boxes. He walked past her, accomplishment and pride, exuding from his face in equal measure. She gave a sigh and went back to throwing out stale vegetables. 

That night, right after his square meal, on his way out to the pan-wala through, between and over the wooden cases that now filled the corridor, Abdu had a thought. A rather disturbing one. It will be a week before the orange-shortage occurs. How are his oranges going to survive a week in well ventilated wooden cases. Abdu's business acumen suggested again. 

The next morning, before Abdu's wife could finish her grunt, a big red refrigerator stood stuck in the corridor. Abdu had the walls scraped a bit, the refrigerator got dented a bit and the kitchen got smaller a bit. But Abdu's wife smiled. Leaving Abdu to fix the machine in position, she rushed to the market, a brand new red bindi adorning her forehead, to buy vegetables, to stock in her brand new red refrigerator. An hour later, she was back with four bags full of vegetables and fruits, other than orange. She opened the red door and inside, neatly arranged in stacks, lay green oranges upon white crates.

"Damn you Abdu! And your Business!" She grunted. 

She hadn't finished.

"Damn your oranges too!" She howled for Abdu to hear. 

"Aah", Abdu agreed.  

Author's Note

As always, please be sure to include all your criticism. Thank you!

Reviews

[Stonz P.]

The second paragraph is phenomenal! I think all husbands with nagging wives must employ this psychology :P

I love everything about it. It is so interesting. Paints quite an exquisite picture.
And the best, totally Indian!

Peter.

[Sharan Suresh]

Thanks Peter. Glad you liked it. Always been trying different styles. A little of R K Narayan influence here I guess.