BEING HENPECKED

Henpecked

Henpecked. This is what people call me. I am not a writer or poet. I am a simple Graduate in Agriculture. I did not choose that name rather it was given to me without ever being asked for it.

I had been an outstanding performer in school and hailed from a generally well off family. So my parents had easily gotten me married to a beautiful girl. But unfortunately, she was too intelligent and too practical. The problem was that she was more intelligent and more practical than me!

She rendered my full support when I told my parents about my idea of pursuing a career in farming. My parents who initially did not welcome the idea as my mates were drawing a respectable salary from a status quo corporate career. 

When I told my wife about my idea of fish ponds within the farm, she advised I obtain some technical help.

“I have read about it plenty.” I said in an attempt to defend my abilities.

“But things are quite different from books when applied to reality.” She tried to convince me.

I should have listened. Over confident with my ideas, I went ahead and suffered losses as all the prawns died due to white spot disease. I became depressed and my parents started coaxing me to leave the farming industry and expressing that it was not too late to join some corporate house. But my wife had faith in my idea.

 She asked me to contact the Central Marine Fisheries Research Institute. I did and roped in some experts who told me about the aeration, feed management, checking of oxygen and water level. I tried again and started producing 10 kg prawns daily to supply to the nearest five star hotel. I recovered all my losses. My education and hardwork, with her intelligence made us a very good team. 

This propelled us to expand from only farming to also growing vegetables, raising fish ponds, and poultry farming on our land. We became the most prosperous house of the village. Our next vision was to start up a dairy farm. 

But my mother was not comfortable with me taking advice and discussing such matters with my wife. Firstly, she asked me to not involve her in those matters but when I did not listened to her, my own mother started to call me henpecked. Soon the whole village followed the suit. When I came to know about it, I hated it. My priorities changed. I left the team spirit. Now my sloe motto was to get rid of that name. The more I tried to run away from it, the more it stuck to me. 

It became impossible for me to walk on the streets without thinking that people are talking about me being henpecked. In desperate attempts to change everyone’s opinion about me, I foolishly started opposing my beloved wife’s each and every advice.

“Don’t go to Pushkar Fair to buy a single buffalo. It would be too costly.” She tried to stop me.

But I saw the look on my mother’s face which only drove me to do anything to prove her that I was not henpecked.

“It has been just a week after demonetization. There will be confusion all over. Not every farmer is educated like you.” She again persuaded.

Now this had become a matter of my pride. I did not want to hear the advice of someone less qualified than me. Thus, I went. 

Thousands of traders, farmers, villagers and tourists were there in the five day Pushkar fair. But demonetization had taken a toll. Traders were clueless about the mode of payment. I thought I had to return empty handed.  Not just money my reputation was also at stake. The thought of my mother’s face with that sarcastic smile was making everything worse.

When I was standing beside a tea stall, arms akimbo, lost in the iota of self pity, two men who were sitting there offered me tea. That made me suspicious as demand of lesser denomination notes had skyrocketed, making even the purchase of tea a luxury.

“Come to buy a horse or camel.”One of them asked.

“Buffalo”. I replied.

“Which breed?” They were persistent.

“Murrah.” I was keeping it short.

“Buffalo. Murrah.” They repeated my words with great enthusiasm.  

“Ghanshyam of our village is also here to sell his buffalo of same breed.” They said.

That made me interested.

“Can you help me to crack the deal.” This time I was persistent.

 Within a few minutes a villager was there with a buffalo.

“You have a bank account?” I asked.

 “Yes.” He said.

After checking the buffalo’s   white mark, teeth, tail etc. I sealed the deal in rupees 50,000. But my gut instinct told me that something was fishy about those strangers. I had heard many incidences of people being duped in such fairs.

 Ghanshyam gave them their share of brokerage and went. But when I offered them brokerage, they strongly refused. 

“You are just like our brother. Ghanshyam is so arrogant.” They said.

Their humble gesture won my heart and made me repent my gut instinct. I thought it was my lack of confidence that was making me feel that. I offered them lift. After some distance we stopped at a roadside dhaba (eatery) for lunch. There they spiked my food and I dozed off. It was the humble dhaba owner who splashed some water on my face and woke me up. 

“Your friends had asked me to let you sleep for a while as you were quite tired.” He told. 

They tricked me and went away with my buffalo, leaving me alone with my gut instinct mocking at me. It was really hard for me to believe that I had been duped. 

What would Mom say about me? was my first thought. After some time, it became the only thought.

I went to the local Police station and lodged an FIR. The officer in charge asked, “What happened?”

I had to give him the whole account of my foolishness.

“Don’t panic. They must have taken the buffalo by crossing the river. We will soon find them on the basis of your description.” He said.

I was again on road wishing this road to never end. I did not want to face my wife or Mom. I was desperately praying some miracle to happen. My belief in God became quite strong.

“Please pull me out of this mess. I will always listen to my wife’s advice.” I urged Him.

 The next morning when I reached the village, I saw two policemen, and a buffalo.

“Do you know Subedar Singh’s house?” They asked.

“That’s me and this is my buffalo! Where did you find it?” I asked, not believing the sight in front of me.

“It was brought to the police station.” They answered laughing and narrated the whole incident for me.

“Those cons, took the buffalo along the river. But the current was quite strong. They tied their belongings to its horn. Buffalo crossed the river but the cons could not  make it and went away with the current. Someone found it on the banks of the river and brought it  to us. We had information about you so we came.”

Their story sounded like the answer to all my prayers. I thanked them with all my heart.

“Pleasure is all ours. Your name is quiet popular, so we wanted to meet you.” They said and went away. 

Before knocking the door and entering my house, I promised myself to always be henpecked as it suited me. Whatever name my mom or the villagers choose to label me as, I know they all love me. 

I smiled and knocked on the door, eager to show them the buffalo.