Short Story: Ginger Chai

This is my first attempt for writing a love story, which I am really bad at. Mani Padma (from Ginger Chai) challenged me to write a love story a few days ago, it is not a real great read, but a little feeble attempt to take a taste in this genre. Please give your honest opinion…
Cheers,
Sid. *fingers crossed*

Breathe in. Breathe out. Damm, this is so easy when you are not tensed. Why is this clerk talking so much time.
‘Will you hurry up?’ I asked the clerk. My finger nails were tapping the counter in excitement.

My name is Shailaja, 30, single and employed, in short a perfect girl for the aunties, mammies to constantly remind me that my days are waning out, that I have to find someone before it is impossible for them to. It is not that I don’t want to get married, but I should get some proper match, isn’t it? All they show me is either short, tall, long nose, meaning some imperfection in some way or the other.
I am not at all hopeless romantic and I am definitely not going to kiss a frog and wait for him to become prince charming.

‘Did you get it?’ I ask the personals counter, anxiety increasing, breathe in, breathe out. I have a panic disorder, i get panic attack when I am tensed and excited.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
‘Madam, this is a personal record of a person, we need an approval for it, please wait,’ the clerk replies. Why are these clerks so dumb? I wonder.

Obviously you have joined this story in the middle, this is definitely not the end, I won’t let this be the end. The story began six months ago. This story began on the streets on Andheri with me running behind the bus,
‘Stop,’ I shouted at the bus as I chased it but it did not stop. The buses in Mumbai follow strict protocol more than the army.


That day my bus to Prabhadevi was missed and I could not wait for another hour for other bus so I climbed the bus to Mahim instead. My grand plan was to take a taxi till Prabhadevi from Mahim. I was a recent fine arts graduate and was currently in a intensive mode of job hunt. After many tries, I managed to get one job interview with a magazine in Prabhadevi, this was my first job interview after sitting six months at home.

The bus was full with only a seat next to a man. He was in his thirties, baby-faced and a little fat man, he smiled as I sat down next to him.
Sitting in the bus, I started getting nervous as panic built in me. The excitement chasing the bus must have triggered it somewhere on the inside.

‘Are you ok?’ the man asked.
‘I…’ I replied breathing hard, ‘I am fine…just exhausted.’ Men are such perverts.
‘Today is your interview, I think,’ he asked smiling.
‘Yes,’ I answered, my breathe becoming normal, gosh how to avoid it.
‘You are nervous uh?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes I am, what is your problem?’ I asked rather rudely.
‘Just this,’ he smiled again and replied calmly, ‘You are clenching my hand with your fist since last fifteen minutes.’
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ this is embarrassing.
‘Hi, I am Moncy,’ he said, ‘and you are…?’
After the formal introductions the ice was broken and I realize he was not all the guy I pictured him to be. He was jolly, sweet and chubby like a large teddy bear… wait I did not say that.
After twenty minutes Moncy wished me luck and we separated our ways and I reached my interview.
At every step of your life, universe is planning something, you never know who you bump into at the next corner.

‘Madam,’ the clerk called out holding the receiver in his hand, ‘What is your name?'Shailaja…’ I nearly screamed 

'Acha,’ and he continued on phone.

As I was walking past the market in Andheri after few days, I met Moncy sitting at the chai-house on the street.

‘Hey Hi,’ I said, ‘Surprised to see you here.’
‘I live here on west,’ he said, ‘You should try this Ginger chai, its very nice.’
‘No,’ I replied, ‘I don’t drink tea.’
‘Have some cream roll,’ he offered me. He offered one cream roll to me and started dipping the other one in his ginger chai.
‘So how did the interview go?’ he asked.
‘Bad, very bad,’ I replied, ‘I fainted in middle of the interview. They did not select me.’
‘You should try the breathing exercise you know to ease your panic,’ he suggested, ‘breathe in, breathe out.’
He did the exercise and gazed at me, I realized after few seconds he wanted me to do it. I did.
‘Practice it, so you are back to job hunt?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I shrugged.
‘You know, there is a place vacant in our office for a professional blogger,’ he said, ‘why don’t you try there?’
Writer. Blogger. What the hell, I need a job.

‘What is the mans name?’ the clerk asked still holding the receiver.
‘Moncy, his flight was today.’

The next day I went to his office for an interview and luckily had no panic attacks. The company was a small advertising agency which dealt with all sorts of advertising, primarily on the internet. It was as if destiny, I was easily selected into the job and I started working with Moncy.
Moncy had a boyish charm and was famous in his office as ‘Golu-molu.’ The Chotu who brought tea for us at regular interval always used to give a special chai to him, ‘Yeh lo saab aapki aadrak ki chai.’(Take your ginger tea)
The office was cheerful and was fun working with, my panic attacks where less. Me and Moncy used to share a taxi while going home, in the morning he used to wait for me at the bus stop and we were having great fun together.
We discussed on many topics ranging from marriage, world peace, sex, movies those forty minutes in whole day were full of argument between us.
One day while early in the morning he offered me free treat of his ginger Chai.
‘What is so special in ginger chai?’ I asked him.
‘I like all kinds of chai, but I prefer a simple, clean Ginger Chai, with no spices. The ginger and warm milk in the chai both help reduce the effects of caffeine.  What this chai does is cleanse and strengthen your digestive system,’ he explained raising his cup.
‘Cheers.’
I had never laughed so much in my life before. I remember him sitting there on the bench of the chai-shop dipping cream roll in his tea, early in the morning. He used to wait for me there.

‘Haanji madam,’ the clerk said, ‘He is going today at around eleven, this is his flight information,’ he handed me the paper, ‘Are you his relative?’
‘No time for it,’ I dashed out of the office and raced on the street, ‘Taxi’ I screamed on top of my voice.
‘Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport,’ I told him hiring his cab, ‘If you make it fast, I will give me more twenty.’
Eleven, means he must already there at the airport.

He always used to tease me on my passion of Hindi films. Specially, DDLJ, like who doesn’t like DDLJ?
‘The movie is about life, the way both people fight odds to be with each other - and how they do win everyone with respect,’ I explained him, ‘I will always wait for my Raj,’ I told him.
‘But the movie is really bad,’ he said, ‘I mean who travels such a long distance just to convince parents?’
‘My friend- went to Canada - to just convince my uncle - to let him marry his girlfriend and they've been married three years now,’ I argued.
‘I cannot believe,’ he said with a smirk.
‘I don’t want you to..’ I stormed out of the room.
‘There are no happy endings in love stories in real life…’ he shouted behind me.
Our life was perfect like tom and jerry, best friends and even worst enemies.
Everything was normal and fine in our life when…

‘Madam, western express way toh jam hai,’ the taxi driver replied, explaining that there is traffic jam on western expressway.
‘Kahi aur se le lo,’ I replied telling him to take somewhere else.
‘Woh lamba jayega, paisa badega, meter se,’ he honestly explained that the rent will be more for the longer route.

He became by best friend in last six months, he was funny, charming and yet cutely fat. He used to send morning good morning emails, funny jokes all day long. We used to go for lunch together.
That night we had to work late on a US project which he was leading. He very sweetly dropped me off at home.  That night a not at all good surprise, my mother was visiting me. The moment she saw him, she started drilling me with questions, who is he? what does he do? is he good? does he earn? grrr mom.
She lectured me on how I should get married soon and if I do not like the people she showed I should find someone myself. The lecture went on for the next hour. Mom.

‘Madam airport agaya,’ the taxi driver had magically transported me sooner than I expected. I still had some more time to catch up with him without his flight leaving.
I ran out of cab, in anxiety I forgot to pay the cab driver who chased me, he caught with me immediately,
‘I …. I…’ I couldn’t talk now, the tension was building, I paid his money and ran inside. Hullo where do we get the entrance, damm these security checks.
Apparently my story was coming in an end completely Hindi film style, I was running towards the airport to stop someone, was he my lover? was he my friend? this thing we have to sort out…I have to sort it out,
‘Madam, you cannot cross the partition if you have no boarding pass,’ the guard replied politely stopping me with a gun on his back.
‘I…’ my breathing was becoming heavier, just then I saw him walking towards the boarding point, my breath was heavy, I was panting and a sudden panic seized me, I had to call him… ‘Mo…Mon…’ I panted, breathing hard and I do not know if I managed to shout his name or no, a final blackout and I was knocked out. Darkness fell before my eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out. My foot. My mom had pestered me a lot on the topic on marriage, in the morning I was chatting with few friends in the cafeteria about it,
‘But why do you have to worry ya?’ asked Sudhir, ‘You already have one.’
‘One?’ I asked, ‘Who?’
‘Arey Golu Molu,’ he laughed, ‘Its not official yet, but everybody knows.’
‘Madowat,’ I replied, ‘I never saw him as a boyfriend. He is not exactly a prince charming is he? he is so fat and clumsy…totally not my type’ now in the whole world, I say millions of things per day, but, Moncy had to stand behind me just when I said the line, I jerked my neck with a guilty feeling in my mind. He said nothing and went to order his Ginger Chai.
I went after him, but he was quiet the whole day. In fact he did spoke very less for next three days and one day he did not come to office. I never got a chance to apologize to him or even talk to him.
He kept avoiding me.
When I inquired I realized, he was being sent to US for project for a year. I felt real bad, I did not know his house, so I was inquiring with the personal departments of our office. I learned that he was already moving to US today, so I had to run all across streets of Mumbai to talk to him at the airport… just at the last moment…I had a panic attack which is the reason I am here… oh wait, I am here? Has he left?

I suddenly open my eyes, ‘Where am I?’ hoping it did not sound too filmy.
‘Take some rest madam,’ the doctor said, ‘You had a panic attack. You are weak.’

Shit, so close, so close. He was there, I saw him… if only I could…

‘So, what exactly were you trying to do?’ Moncy’s voice surprised me, I jerked my head and saw him sitting on the stool dipping a cream roll in ginger chai, ‘Trying some Hindi film ending stunt?’
‘You? You missed the flight?’ I ask.
‘Apparently I did yes, I was just curious why where you chasing me?’ he asked me, ‘They serve good ginger chai here also…’
Exactly, why did I chase him around half the city? Why did I race here? Was this it? Was this kuch kuch hota hai? Damm, it sounded so easy in the film, what is it?
‘Well…,’ I tried to justify, but nothing came to my mind, damm, is this love? ‘I dunno.’
‘You chased around half the city for a fat and clumsy man, who is not even your type of prince charming?’ he asked laughing.
‘I think…’ well, how hard can it be?
‘Don’t answer…’ he smiled and held my hand, ‘I think we have to rethink over our relationship. You need rest and you need time.’
‘I…I…’ damm, where is my grammar?
‘Would you like to come with me?’ he asked, ‘You know sometimes… for ginger chai?’

P.s. The excellent image downloaded from the internet. Special thanks to Vidhu for explaining me DDLJ, I never understood it yet. Also thank you Neha for correcting the mistakes about Mumbai city.
P.P.s DDLJ is Dilwale Dulaniya Le Jayenge, a hindi romantic comedy half Indian girls are crazy about.

When a man tried to understand a woman!!!

This story was written long back, but most of you missed it back then, I am sure every boy in the world would like to read this and every girl on this planet would want to kill me for it. Enjoy it and tell your views on it. :p 

Cheers,

SiD

Long time ago, there was a man who wanted to figure out what Women want and started the long tapasya (i.e., Sitting idle for a long time until Gods come down to wake you up) he did not miss his wife while sitting there, but his wife did miss making the potato vegetable because he had promised to bring her that, but eventually Ekta Kapoors torturing humans torch was passed around to many newbie and big producer directors that she forgot about him (She had to keep in touch with the family history of 200 years for around 50 families spread across 70 channels in 5 different languages, big work you see)

So he sat there not bothered by the tiger growling around (Although he did wet his pants, but you see no one was looking), not bothering about the weather around (he had complete faith in the weather bureau, if they say it is a sunny day, he will sit there in the rain believing it a sunny day), not bothering about the time (actually his watch had stopped working long back, but his wife was busy and no one reminded him)


God was looking, oh yes God was looking, but you see since the Ravan fiasco (Ravan was gifted immortality by God) he avoided coming down to wake up any human. There was one more reason in his cloak that he avoided answering the dreaded question, if asked by him. So God decided to test him.
God send down a very beautiful girl Menaka (prettier than Aishwarya and sexier than Mallika Sherawat, just imagine!!!) to disturb the mans tapasya. She came down, tried to seduce him by many means (some of which cannot be written here or i’ll have to inform blogger this is a adult blog) but the man did not move.

‘Oh well,’ thought God, ‘Let me try this.’

God send down a very complicated creature, she was a he. He\She walked around him and tried to frighten him by doing certain things, although the man was very afraid when he\she touched his back and did something behind him, he did not deter in his tapasya, he wanted to know the story, you know.
The final test came, when God chose the weapon of mass destruction. He disconnected the cable TV (OMG moment, yeah) and then send a notice to his wife from the cable company that the bill is not paid. On top of that, God slipped the man’s address to his wife (yeah, cruel God) via a rumor(now you know where the rumors originate).

The wife armed with bellan (a common domestic weapon useful in flattening chapattis and creating a lump on your husbands forehead), two pairs of sandals (she wanted to carry more, but she couldn’t find others) and loads of sound power walked towards the mountain where the husband lay.

The husband sensed the wife coming from far and prayed to God silently, ‘Ok, I do not want to answer, please stop her.’

Some other God in passing saw the plea and gave him a disguise of white beard, hairy chest and long hair. The wife never recognized her husband and walked back with the same weapons to hunt the rumor monger or the cable company guy (or whoever came before them).

So finally the main God had no choice and came down earth and said, ‘I am happy with your dedication. I have come to fulfill your wish.’

The man smiled and said, ‘I have survived all those years, escaped death thousands of times, escaped my wife one time only to know one single answer… I wish to understand woman…’

God thought for a while, then decided to answer honestly, but he choose to whisper in the mans ears. (Sting operation can be anywhere right???)

For a moment everything froze (its old habit of God to stop time and answer question) and God told him the answer.

After listening to God, the man stared at the almighty for a while with blank eyes and then… then…
He started laughing uncontrollably, he laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

God rubbed his eyes and sighed, ‘There goes one more…sigh’ and called the asylum.
The man is still there. No one knows if he got the answer or listened to another santa banta joke, but he still laughs day and night.

Moral of the story: Stop asking stupid questions and do your work. (Guess what? This moral is written by my gf who is giving me ‘the stare’ as I am writing this special line, I should run away immediately)

P.s. To know more about ‘The stare’ keep following.

P.p.s Boys, if you are confused join the club, if you are not, join the asylum. Girls, my gf has taken the revenge for all womankind by reading this post. All is written in good faith.

Tales from the ancient chronicles: A fools chance

Away for the weekend…

I am on the trip around Blogville, yeah you heard it right, not farmville, blogville. Just when I was freaking about no longer being in my teens, universe gave me a wonderful chance to redeem my teens.  I was invited by two teens to author an article for their blog.

First it was Arjuna who asked me to write about my teens, which…err… was nice. Do visit this world of teenager, to read my karamati in my teens.

Then a very lovely and spirited friend Neha, from Strange thing called life asked me very sweetly to write a funny article for a blog, which I could never refuse. I decided to illuminate the world about the curse of television, which obviously we do not know as we are busy enjoying it.

Enjoy your weekend folks, and do move around blogosphere leaving your farms in care of scarecrows, cause you see, even farmers need some rest.

Kudos,
SiD

P.s Obviously this post has no comments. Do comment on the respective post.

Funny Friday Fiction 55 with Raji

It was his birthday. He was more than ready to open his gifts. Maria couldn’t wait to see the look on her brother’s face when he unwrapped the gift.

“Wow! This is just like the toy I got last year that I lost!” he said.

Maria smiled mischievously. “It is.”

(This happened to my close friend who was celebrating his 10th birthday)

With Lots of Love
Raji...

Also Visit my blog @ http://attitudethatneverfails.blogspot.com 




You are all invited to participate in Funny Friday Flash Fiction 55, just drop a mail id to guestblogger AT sidoscope DOT co DOT in(Obviously replace the capital letters with symbols). There are only two conditions, it should be funny and it should be less than 55 words.:D

My name is...

Long long time ago, Mr. Shakespeare wrote, 'What's there in the name' and after that he went ahead and put his name under that line, which was ironic but necessary.

Since ages the name game is just below the blame game. Because to blame someone you need to name someone. Hence naming a name is more important that work.

Some names become too famous, that they are echoed through out the ages, like Mahatma Gandhi. This name is so overrated that after every three blocks you find a Mahatma Gandhi road, Mahatma Gandhi chowk, Mahatma Gandhi kinara.

A few days ago I was sipping tea in the Mahatma Gandhi tea stall (I am not sure if any member of Gandhi family has inaugurated or owned or even know about this tea stall) I asked the chai wala, 'Mohandas Gandhi ko janate ho?' (Do you know Mohandas Gandhi)

'Kaun?' (who) the man asked me, 'Is he new Gandhi president?'

Holy.. I dropped the hot tea and burned my fingers. Now those who do not know (which is a shame if you are an Indian) Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was the name of Mr. Mahatma Gandhi.

Some names are weapons of mass destruction, usually the ones from south India. Gopi from my office was known by all as Gopi, he never told anyone anything else. But I a very interesting incident brought his real name into picture.

Gopi was driving in the no-entry lane in Pune (they are so many that you sometimes tend to loose track) when he was caught by a traffic cop (who was doing something behind a tree)

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'Going, sir please let me go,' Gopi said.

'Nothing doing, tell me your name,' the cop removed the tattered book to give a ticket.

'Gopichettipalayam Nagakundilachucallepericati Kumarvellam Iyer,' said Gopi politely.

For half a minute the cop was quiet and then he said, 'Ok ok, don't do it again. I am letting you go because it is your first time.'

Weapon of mass destruction you see, I wonder who in his right mind would want such a big name.

Some names are too common to the irritation of their owners like Neha, Priya, Rahul, Amit.

Every third girl you meet on the street has name Priya, while the second one has name Neha.

Similarly every person in India happens to know atleast one Rahul and one Amit, however only one Rahul per person is not a limitation.

I know a Neha who was shouting like hell on Valentines Day because she received too many flowers in her hostel. She had no problems in receiving the flowers, the problem was they were not for her and she had a lot of explaining to do to the delivery boy as well as her boyfriend about the name problem.

Some family names become very popular through ages, like in India, Gandhi is the biggest brand sold in political outfits. Likewise Khan, Bacchan, Kumar are the brand sold in the films.

Similarly there are many famous brand names in India like the Thackarey, Godse, Joshi.

These names are as controversial as they are popular.

My friend was Lal, now his tragedy in life was that he came from a distant village in Bihar with the popular surname, however his father chose to name him Lal as in Red. Now he was definitely human nor was a red head but his name was Lal.

Madhu was a very good and close friend, however the tragedy in his life was he was he but he was named as a she.

In Punjab I hear names are very complicated like Parminder, can you forget the Parminder family in Khichadi TV serial? The whole family had a running name Parminder?

Some names are totally confusing like Kiran, Suhas these names are applied to females as well as males. I always dread that at some point of time I will be invited to a wedding where Kiran weds Kiran, and I am not sure if it will be straight marriage or a gay marriage.

Some names have controversy written on them hear this, in a hostel room no. 666 the room mates ate Thackarey and Yadav, can you digest it? I can't.

Recently Mr. Khan announced to the world My name is Khan, ok, point taken I won't ask your name again and I hope no airport will deport you and check you like they did before.

So you see, when Shakespeare asked 'What is there in the name' in the 16th century, little did he know that he will receive such tremendous answers in the 21st century.

Well my name is Sid aka Ravan aka Siddhesh Kabe, what is yours?

Funny Friday Fiction 55 with Bharathi

Today we have a spirited and a marvelous blogger with us, Bharathi from A Naked Opinion, he blogs with a different, with a clear ideology, definite vision and a very value words. Put your hands together for the philosopher and the true Kohinoor of Blogsville, Bharathi.

 
Its midnight now. I cant get sleep. Tomorrow is the deadline. Can I make it? I don’t know. If I don’t, I cant even think about it. I can sense a very strange feeling in my stomach.
Finally its nine in the morning, slowly I presented my failed mark sheet to my dad for signature.
Note: We all think kids are always happy. In my sense they too have their glad and sad moments. That’s the moral (?) of the story.

You are all invited to participate in Funny Friday Flash Fiction 55, just drop a mail id to guestblogger AT sidoscope DOT co DOT in(Obviously replace the capital letters with symbols). There are only two conditions, it should be funny and it should be less than 55 words.:D

Funny Poem: Cabby

What if…

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 7; the seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

What if at the peak of human evolution, a simple error in a computer system causes something never prophesied by anybody. This was a story I had written long back, this is a great contender for what if. Hope you enjoy it.

What if

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Funny Friday Fiction 55 with Megha

He was enjoying the Sunday cricket in the gulli. 

She passed them with her boxer dog and caught everyone's eye. 

He hit the next ball lightly towards her, hitting her calf. She turned. He winked at her making a lewd face.

Ooooooooowwwhhhh, his cry filled the air. He glinted at her, her boxer was missing.

You are all invited to participate in Funny Friday Flash Fiction 55, just drop a mail id to guestblogger AT sidoscope DOT co DOT in(Obviously replace the capital letters with symbols). There are only two conditions, it should be funny and it should be less than 55 words.:D

The Art of Argument

Since the initial construct of language, man has been trying to have the age old problem with words… he cannot find the exact phrases to argue with a female. They say there are factually two theories of arguing with woman, unfortunately the third one works,and men are still hunting for it. Ironically, the only time men won the fight with words was when the language was made, when men explained words to women, and the next day…when men woke up, kaboosh, till date they have not managed to speak a single word of argument in front of women.

It is evident that as man never gets to use the area next to the mouth properly, some people believe this is the root cause of growing facial hair in men.

All the famous authors like Shakespeare, John Milton, Victor Hugo, Sharad Joshi, Mulshi Premchand, P. L. Deshpande,  D.M. Mirajdar etc. all of them wrote millions and millions on words on many different topic, yet, they could not write a single monograph on how to argue with a woman!!!

The most analytical mind in the whole world Sherlock Homes, authored by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, speaks thus about womankind, ‘the motives of women... so inscrutable... How can you build on such quicksand? Their most trivial actions may mean volumes... their most extraordinary conduct may depend upon a hairpin’

  A recent analysis shows woman all over the world have a secret conspiracy and a single methodology to argue with a man, its called ‘Argueastra,’(astra: Weapon in sanskrit) a strategically crafted series of phrases and the methods of argument that on its careful and scientifically precise application renders every man in the world useless by its usage. Some say the argueastra is the legend, some do not believe its existence and then those who actually saw it…do not have enough balls to discuss about it.

There is no level of age on who uses the argueastra, its like the Brahmastra, the ultimate weapon used for a dry argument, the only alternative to this power is the usage of crying glands which practically leaves nothing behind.

Our jasoos travelled the globe to get some proof on the existence of argueastra. With the help of some female friends, in the interest of saving the sanity of man-kind, I am putting forward the completely details analysis of the arguesutra, in hope that maybe somewhere, someday some man will find a way to break this chakravivya and maybe, maybe win one argument before the end of time. I have given up long back.

The players: Husband and Wife, the scenario: The wife had requested to take her to the movies, which the husband has already refused last night. Not able to accept defeat, she has decided to use the fighting fork.

H: Honey, give me some tea.

W: This is the 4th cup, you are having since morning. Can’t you be of some use around here?

H: Its my holiday today. I have nothing else to do.

W: Its so great when you are not at home, why don’t they have any work on weekends? You simply increase my work. I do work all week, 24/7, I don’t get any holiday, I cook, I clean, I bicker with the house maid, I have to solve the problems of our kids all have their own views on my life. And once, only once I say, I want to watch a movie, and not any movie, a Srk movie, you do not have time.

I am really tired of it.

H: But… (takes some time to relate to the dialogue, remembers the conversation they had like many days ago. *blink blink blink* tube light, seriously we men cannot remember the calendar in such vivid detail, takes some time.)

Attack number one: Usage of the element of surprise, attack when he is not looking. This way, it takes some time for him to come back on his feet, the window of opportunity to score a point.

He remembers what is happening, but is unable to respond. He assumes he still has a fighting chance, so he argues back.

H: but I told you, its month end, we have to save money…

W: you have found my movie to save money? You buy those useless magazines in your office, you  have money to buy a tiffin to our boy, but when it comes to me, all I get is month-end. Before I got married to you, I had so nice proposals, they would never had said month-end to me.

Attack number two: Hit where it hurts, not the crouch, ego. Competition. Show him how lucky he is that he has her.

H: but, that was twelve years ago. I have taken you to many movies so far. We have been around India for so many times, just during last summer, we took chotu to Goa…

W: What do you want to prove by that? Mr. Joshi took the whole family to Europe trip. Don’t you try to tell that you care for me. After all the sacrifices I have done for you, this is what I get. If only my brothers where with me, he would take me for the movie.

Attack number 3: Throw away his argument by counter argument, using the names of his enemies. Any other man, specially your neighbor is always a enemy. Its also called the one-two attack, confront him from both the sides, the man gets confused, at one side he has to criticize Joshi or he has to keep with the argument. If he keeps up, Joshi becomes hero, and if he criticizes Joshi (which 95% of man will do, even me) he scores negative points in argument.

H: But..that Joshya is a fraud, he is the most corrupt…

W:Why do I care about Joshi? I care about us, our marriage is based on love (people say, some arguments are used without word love, I have not faced that yet)…

and all of the sudden the ultimate point of no return…. the fighting fork…

W: Why don’t you understand me? I don’t understand what do you want from me? Don’t you love me anymore? Why don’t we go to movies together?

H: I… I…

There the final point of no return, either tell her you don’t love her or book the tickets.

There, the final nail in the coffin. The husband lost a winning argument.

So you see, what chance do we poor men have??