The Club of the quiet kidnapped men at the Mall

There are millions of things which the missus and me, have to put up with (sans resistance and with a wide smile) to ensure that we cheerfully do them together (having been married just 3 months now). A visit to the Mall is one such errand which I have to run every alternate day. According to my wife its every alternate month and I guess the actual truth lies between 5-10 days. It’s like the wide-ranging perception in the minds of a mother and a toddler about the time elapsed since he last ate a big Cadbury.

Since the start of our relationship I have probably seen 40 different Malls in Mumbai, Kolkata, Chennai and Bangalore (4-8 times each). By these statistics you may be forgiven for erroneously assuming that we have known each other since 6-8 years. Today, 15^th Oct, 2010 is the second anniversary of our first meeting. Two Mall-going Years... 

While I find all such visits to be the same with different layouts and architecture, I’m astounded at the observational skills of the female eye which never find two Mall-outings-done-at-different-timestamps the same. My trips generally follow the same itinerary:

Step 1: Park the bike/car at a surprisingly big but still annoyingly full basement parking lot by paying what used to suffice for a flight ticket to Bombay in 1963.

Step 2: Wait for an eternity and get into the lift to go up. Don’t be irritated if the lift goes down to an even lower basement parking lot (you’d be surprised at the number of parking levels these days).

Step 3: Reach the ACed plush atrium of the Mall. Closely follow the missus to where she’s going.

Step 4:  Get into one of those lifestyle-brand-named shops that rent 3 floors of the mall and become the clothes-hanger for her majesty. When asked for an honest opinion about a certain merchandize, honestly say that, “It’s one of a kind dear!”

Step 5: Hold the ‘Total-number-of-clothes-selected-for-trial minus 3’ clothes outside the trial room (since the trial room bouncer-cum-bitch allows only 3 to be taken at one time).

Step 6: Make eyes wide and eye brows wider to convey a YES or make eyes smaller eye brows twisted and covey a NO without any blasphemous words.

Step 7: Do the ritualistic choooo-chweet-teddy-bear dance together and head for the long queue at the billing section alone while the missus tries on some imitation jewelry bought @ non-imitation prices. (Just when the waiting list reaches the ‘WL 1/13’ status will the missus appear to endure ‘half’ the waiting time).

Now are the few moments when I peacefully sit at those checked green and blue sofas and enjoy my limited edition membership of ‘The Club of the quiet kidnapped men at the Mall’. Men are not found smiling or speaking here. Each has the same expression(less) emotion on their face. We unwittingly share our hopes and aspirations about the long awaited freedom each of us may eventually attain (few sooner and many later). When a wife or girlfriend summons one of us, the elder members usually give a small smile, conveyed more by their eyes than by the lips, thus giving the leaver the strength and girth he will surely need until the next time he arrives. Less than 2 minutes pass and the missus summons me too. Charged with the strength of the smiles the elders bless me with, I go to the billing section, too strong to react in any destructive way to the ridiculously large amount which has been paid for moh-maya-like clothes and accessories which will be deemed too old fashioned two weeks hence.

Precautions and Sources of error:

1. Fight every instinct which forces you to make a face which may reveal your true horror about the price of a scarf (or teddy bear or dupatta or hair clip or pretentious fake jewelry or belt or bag or nail polish or lip stick or mascara or eye-liner or bath salt or body-shop-products).
2. When asked a question about how a particular dress is looking, under no circumstances (how much ever compelling they are) you should tell the missus that she may need a bigger size. The equivalent opposite reaction (of your action) would be literal in every sense of the word. An even smaller size will be bought with a weight loss challenge which will change your diet for ever.
3. Never mention that her 2-minute-visit to a small shop which is very close (read 37-minute-visit to Lifestyle which is on the other end of the mall) will increase the rent of parking (which is on a per hour basis) by another digit. No exaggeration intended.
4. While trying to divert the attention of the missus whose line of sight has just encountered a hyper expensive juice shop (which apparently sells a nanocup of Berry Berry @ Rs. 89 [+ local taxes extra] and which her friend boasted is just-too-good), be clear about where you may reroute that attention. Because it may just happen that your Bengali wife may find Kolkata Chat Bhandar which sells her phe-vo-rate jhaal-mudi [+ orange juice] combo @ Rs. 105 [+ local taxes extra].