Wives never learn. OK, some wives never learn. They do not understand their hubby’s loving language.
R worked in Navi Mumbai, transporting goods on his three-wheel van for companies. I was staying on a 5th floor flat facing the Mumbai-Pune highway that time. We did not have an elevator.
One day, R’s wife visited us and was chatting when we heard a van horn along with a whistle sound from the road.
R was standing there with his vehicle and called out his wife lovingly: “Hey, come dear, let’s go.”
“You come up,” she shouted back.
“It’s hot. I can’t climb. You come, let’s go.”
“You come up. Have tea and go,” she retorted.
By this time, R’s patience had been tested. “Heyyy. Comeee,” his voice was a little harsh.
“You come up and…,” she was repeating like a parrot, when we realised R had had enough.
“Heyyyy. Vaaa diiiii (va is “come” in Tamil, di is derogatory). How many times should I call you?” He bit his tongue, eyebrows shrinking, eyes turning red and fingers flashing a warning signal.
Where is Mrs R? I asked my wife.
“She may have jumped from the window in fear. Luckily, she decided to run down.”