By Ratna Manucha
Meet Mister, the Man of the house
And Missus, the Manager, who keeps things on track
He may wear the trousers, or so he may like to believe
But she manages the home and the Man
And cuts him plenty of slack.
‘How about a cuppa tea?’ suggested the Mister, ever the thinker
As he peered over the day’s newspaper
Ever the doer, the Missus
Stopped what she was doing
And made tea instead.
‘It’s lovely’, smiled the Mister
As he sipped the comforting brew
As for the Missus’ feelings
He hadn’t a clue
All was well in his world.
The Missus planned the meals
She cooked his favourite food
To her it really wasn’t an ordeal
As she kept track of things
All the while making sure the Mister was in a good mood.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the Mister one day
The Missus had just sat down
To catch her breath
‘I’m tired today
I think I’m out of my depth’.
‘I can’t find my cap’, he said, as if he hadn’t heard
‘I thought I’d walk the dog.’
The Missus kept her knitting aside and got up with a sigh
She found his cap, gave it to him
And silently muffled a cry.
But the Mister was now busy
The messages on his phone
Needed to be read
You see, time was of the essence
And the Missus stifled a groan.
The Missus popped a pill
And took the dog for a walk
She picked up fruit on the way home
Washed and stacked it in the fridge
While the Mister stared in fascination at his phone.
Said the Missus to the Mister
‘I think I’m feeling blue’
‘You look in the pink of health’,
He guffawed
‘Look at your rosy hue’.
‘Let’s drink some tea’, he said
‘It will do you good.’
She stared at him, but he was on to other things by now
‘Yes, let’s,’ she said
But kept standing where she stood.
‘Where’s the tea?’ said the Mister after a while
‘Why don’t you make it?’ she said with a sigh
No answer was forthcoming
So silently, she popped another pill
And hoped to bid her headache goodbye.
She put some clothes in the laundry
The Mister’s sock
Was missing from a pair
She just stopped short
From tearing out her hair.
The Mister and the Missus
Planned to take a trip
The Mister got busy making lists
Of clothes and pills to pack,
Which got his knickers in a twist.
Meanwhile the Missus plodded
Silently on…
There was work to be done
Food to be packed and doors to be locked
The plants to be watered and the dog to be fed.
The sun went down and the moon rose up
As they came back home
‘I’m tired’, yawned the Mister
‘Let’s go to bed’
And that’s just what he did.
The Missus locked the gate
Then locked the doors
Drew the curtains
Stored the leftovers
Put away the picnic basket
Ran the dishwasher
Took out the trash
Tidied up the kitchen
Fed the dog
Walked the dog
Switched off the lights
Brushed her teeth
And settled in silently
Next to the Mister
Who by now
Was snoring softly in his bed
All was well
In his head.
(Ratna Manucha is an educator, author and columnist. She lives, dreams and writes in Dehradun, her happy place).
