On life and its vagaries

The Bugbear

with 6 comments

Our part-time writer was having the most difficult of times.  He had a big exchange with the wife first of all, it was totally pecuniary.

“You are not following the ways and means guidelines we agreed upon.”

He had bellowed to the trusted one.

The partner right away flew into nice hysterics; she doesn’t like to be criticized in any imaginable manner.

“You know what”, she quavered shivering all over, “you know what, you are sick……… are sick.”

“You don’t have to say everything twice.”

He said condescendingly and continued to boom and bellow at the top of his voice. He liked such scuffles with the dear one, it keeps the tedium away. Lately he had become an adept at that. He would kick up a great hubbub under the flimsiest of pretexts.

The wife (poor soul, what does she know about the vagaries of a creative mind!) would think it’s real.

During the whole of the drama one part of him would be assessing the moves. Did I just over do that? It hardly had the desired effect. Okay let’s try it this way, just enough anger and exasperation.  Didn’t that go very nice, look at the way she colors. Now she would go into that snarl of hers. There it comes……

Nonetheless he would get involved in it seriously some time too. That was the one thrill of the exercise. They both knew that nothing would come out of it. The wife would spend in the manner she likes and the budget would look the way it was before the brawl.

On this day he had kicked up a steam out of nowhere and the wife liked it still less. The heated exchanges continued for some time.

Then there would be the barter type of trading for a while. She would throw everything she could lay her hands on at him. She was not particular what they were and the stints in the kitchen had made her damn precise too. He would make an effort to catch the valuable things coming his way.

He was pretty good at catching actually, having played cricket up to a certain level while a student; recently he is having hefty practice too, with the loved one.

In his turn he would throw the most innocuous and weightless of things at her, light-weight bed sheets and towels being the prominent items among them- all the while enjoying her tantrums- she glows when she is angry and he likes that. She has an extreme dislike for sheets falling on her and covering her head and face and would go completely berserk then.

Then comes the most serious part of the fight, she would blindly rush upon him and would do whatever she had a mind to do. She would scratch, kick, pinch, bite, slap and butt him with her head and knees. She was totally ferocious and cannot be controlled in such moods.

He would try to defend himself as much as he can without hurting her, but that was not very much.  He was big and strong and she was still like a little girl beside him. So using force was not an option. After her frenzy is over she will rush off into the bedroom and shut herself up.

He would be bruised all over and sore and almost in tears. She had nice sharp nails and knew how to make use of them.  He often thinks that it’s some kind of a weird masochistic inclination in him, this desire to get clawed by the puny wife, and feeling the helplessness of not being able to retaliate.

He tried his best to get into the bedroom to pacify her, but she would not budge. The door does not lock correctly from the inside but he did not force entry, for she would be at the other side leaning with all her might on the door. If he does anything she would go crazy with hysterics and there would be no pacifying her after that.

So he tactically withdrew and started on the next serious thing in life, the story he was writing or rather typing. He had to send it to a minor weekly very soon. Our writer was terribly old fashioned and liked the trusted protagonist-conflict- resolution theory in crafting a story.

He had jotted everything down beforehand and was building on it. There was nothing creative in the exercise, he had stolen the story from an old newspaper feature and was planning to invest some color in to it. The first part was over, now to the real business.  He got the background etched and started to build his character.

Then something curious occurred. The words he was typing in would start to shimmer and then disappear off the computer screen. He scrolled back to the beginning, the beginning was all there, and the trouble came only with what he wrote after that.

May be there was some problem with the key board, he thought and retyped it all back, with the same effect, the moment the words were typed in they would fade. He did it again, repeatedly pressing the save button, but there was no visible change, the words faded away just like that.

In desperation he changed the text editor he was using; he now used the note pad and retyped all from scratch.  The initial few sentences would come easily. At the point where he started on his protagonist the words would simply disappear.

All the while he was catching something near him with the corner of one eye. There was some movement on that side as if someone was standing next to him…….

I am fast becoming neurotic, he thought; maybe it’s because of the fight with her.

He again typed the words in, they again disappeared, every time he did that, the movement at his side became more obvious. He refused to look that way- that would be nuts he thought, rising.

To hell with the story, he went and listened a while at the bedroom door, there was a faint whimper from within. Good, he thought, she is all right, and moved to the room where their TV was and turned it on, sitting on the settee in front.

He was about to flip through channels when someone spoke from behind him. The voice was definitely not that of his wife.

“Finished with me yet?”

He froze; hairs began to stand up on his neck. It has come to this pass, he thought; now I am hearing voices too. I should stop writing altogether; I am becoming too sensitive to whatever vibrations there are out there.

He ignored the voice and started changing channels.

“You got everything wrong about me you know.”

The voice said.

“Hell.” He swore loudly.

This bloody thing would be the end of me yet.  He turned the volume up; fully knowing that the next door guy was the petition-writing sort, he would have the paper and pen in his hand by now.

-To whomsoever it may concern……..The klutz next door has just now turned the power speakers on  after beating up his wife……….

But anyway the present peace of mind is more important than future scares. ……. He turned the volume still further up.

The din coming from the TV soothed him somewhat, but it did not last, like magic the volume went down and the voice began again.

“How could I stay in your plot………”

He now jumped up screaming…..

“What in the name of the bloody imponderable hell ……………”

And rushed into the bedroom to fall on his dear one and started crooning inanities to her,

My pet, pearl, sweetum, li’l dove and  morning dew, my rose, sugar, nectar, sapphire and delight of soul, did the bad man hurt you, did he scold you, did he make you cry………

She laughed and clasped him to her bosom with a vice like embrace and purred soothingly.

Sh, sh……mummy’s here, who made my baby frightened, should mummy drive it away?

Feigning terror he pointed to the other room.

The bogyman ……… tell him to go away.

The wife raised her voice and called out.

Hear you, you bugbear, leave my little one alone. Or I shall become very angry.

And thus they were happy for a little while.

(Don’t ask me the point of the story for god’s sake. I simply don’t know)


Written by Sam

August 23, 2009 at 4:59 pm

6 Responses

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  1. I used to argue with my first husband. The trouble was he always thought he was right and would lecture me on and on and on. I was wrong, he was right…. He was a dominant male and I should accept that….Finally I left. I have learnt that it is OK to agree to disagree with my second husband. I have my say, he has his, we may disagree. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind, I don’t mind. No one has to win. Nothing matters that much that we should live our lives in tension and disharmony. Lovely. Happiness.
    Blessings T


    August 28, 2009 at 11:51 am

  2. There is this wonderful practice among the Tibetans and I am simply delighted with it . It prescribes that occasionally one of the partners should scold the other one for some time ( for whatever reasons that they can find at the time)and the other partner should keep silent and try to turn his/her mind away from it. After a while the receiver should assume the part of the scolder and so on.

    They say it teaches us dis attachment and lets out steam which would be building up inside you otherwise. And it also minimizes real confrontations.

    I do believe that we need some sort of an outlet for all that is boiling up inside us from time to time. This has to happen to even to the most controlled of individuals among us. Anger can be creative if it is turned to benefit like the Tibetans.

    I would like to echo your nice sentiment here “Nothing matters that much that we should live our lives in tension and disharmony”. Lovely thought. It should be printed in bold letters on a card and put on the walls to remind us of the fact.



    August 28, 2009 at 2:34 pm

  3. good one 🙂


    September 1, 2009 at 4:55 pm

  4. Thank you.


    September 1, 2009 at 6:01 pm

  5. I’m reading this at 2300hrs, alone in the house. So scared, lest i hear voices! This is creative*


    May 19, 2012 at 8:09 pm

    • I don’t even remember what I wrote about in it. Thanks Martha


      May 27, 2012 at 5:10 pm

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