I Am The Maitreya

A friend of mine called over the weekend, to give me a good shouting. She was mighty upset with my last entry, which was eons away in blog time dimension, five days to be exact, but only few inches away in space, which is my last entry, right above this one.

Ah! It’s a classic example of relativity, where space and time is wrapped to form a blog-hole, in which my lethargy completely sucks me in; as a result my entries are like sporadic shooting stars, rare to see, but when  appeared, do make a wish.  

For the friends, who can’t comprehend semantics of words anymore, and wants everything pithy and concise (all the engineers and science folks), I presume for lack of time, or may be a pretension of appearing so, nevertheless, I have devised a graph showing my activities against time.

Did I tell you, I have Attention Deficiency Disorder (ADD)? The reason for this entry is, my friend, making a call over the weekend, and I end up drawing a graph. Talk about digression. As one of my friend used to tell me, ‘su-man’ stands for ‘sustha manasthiti’, I guess she was right.

Anyway, this lady was particularly upset with me for degrading an act of love making into a mere house chore. For having her thrown off the board with my ‘insensitive misogynist pig’ [sic] remake, she thinks I owe an apology to all the female species.

By the way to refresh your memory, my original comment was:

‘We burn more calories in bed, and since the bed is within the four walls that qualify for house chores.’

‘If you think so, why don’t you have sex with garbage bin, that’s within the house walls too?’, she shot back from the other end of the phone, if the communications were to take place through conduits, I would have died at the spot with that noxious fume of rage coming from my cell phone. Lucky for me, all the communications take over wire less these days.

Forget wining an argument with angry women, needs miracles just to reason them out. And worse, my transgression was to pee in theirs’ (lioness/tigress) turf. Now, you can’t expect to come out of it, cheap. Do you?  For some reason, I represent the whole male species, who owed an apology for all the recorded/unrecorded atrocities committed towards the fairer sex for all the recorded/unrecorded history. She expected me to apologize for Adam having taken his ribs out to create Eve too, and for all the male species in the Noah’s Arc, who might have treated their the other halves bad, during the flood. For Mangale’s failure to provide all the luxuries to Malati, in Malati-Mangale.

With such a grave responsibility, I was out of words. Unfortunately, she took my silence for guilt, and that encouraged her to pound me more, the verdict was out, and I were to be hung for all living things with testicles. I am to be their martyr and example too.

Sensing my helplessness, she thought, it was enough, and we moved to other mundane topics, but before we wrapped our conversation, I repeated her statement back to her.

‘If you think so, why don’t you have sex with garbage bin, that’s within the house walls too?’

And, she asked, what with that? I whispered on the phone, fearing my life ‘may be all husbands think just that of their wives, and I am happy I am not married.’

And we had a good laugh.