Jamshed V Rajan

I was in Bihar recently. It was just like Mumbai....but with fewer people from Bihar.

Prakash Kumar is a close friend of mine who is sandwiched between his wife and mother. For reasons I don’t fully understand, he believes I am an expert in relationships. So he narrated the group dynamics in his house and asked for my advice. Here is his narration, in his words: +++++++ If my mother and wife have fought, I will know by 6 p.m. Both of them will call me at the office and casually ask, “When will you be home?” That’s when I know…tonight is not going to be easy. It is a survival mission. Armed with this information, I enter the house at 8 p.m…mentally prepared, emotionally unavailable for both. If my mother opens the door, my wife will be standing right behind her to take my laptop bag. If my mother arranges my shoes inside the shoe rack, my wife will bring me a towel. Basically, I am not a husband. I am a 'trophy' being fought over. I look at my father for support. With the Economic Times in one hand and the TV in front of him, he shrugs. I recognize that shrug. He doesn't want to get involved: “Son… I fought this war. Now it’s your turn.” I retreat to the washroom, which is the safest place in the house. But only for short bursts at a time. If my wife gives me a T-shirt outside, my mother will loudly announce, “Dinner is served!” At the dining table, silences are long… and sentences are short. I can hear the utensils much louder than usual. In fact, I can judge the intensity of the fight by the decibel level with which the ladle hits the pan. On normal days, I can notice gentle serving. But today, it's a "percussion performance" using steel utensils. “So, how was your day?” my wife asks. This is a dangerous question. One wrong answer… and the United Nations will need to get involved (it already has a lot of time...having shied away from the US-Iran war). So I say, “It was fine.” If I say “great,” I will create emotional damage. If I say “bad,” I will get investigative questions. “So, what did you do the whole day?” my mother asks. I have to be careful not to give a detailed answer. My wife won't like it. So I say, “Nothing much.” Since my wife doesn’t understand Tamil, my mother starts speaking in Tamil. I respond in a neutral language…like Switzerland. I don't want my wife to think I am conspiring with my mother. I look at my father again. This time, he doesn’t even shrug. He just looks deeper into his plate… as if the answers to life's problems are hidden in the sambar. Dinner is a disaster because both forgot to bring two dishes to the table. Thankfully, both of them made one dish each...so one person can't be blamed for the disaster. After dinner, my mother tries to keep me outside the bedroom. She offers ice cream, fruits, Dabur Chyawanprash, etc. Meanwhile, my wife starts sending signals from the bedroom. She says, “I’m sleepy…do you want to come in?” I know that these are not questions. These are summons. So I take one spoon of Dabur Chyawanprash and rush to the bedroom. Inside, I stare at the TV…strategizing. My wife sits in front of the mirror and sulks. Eventually, I make the mistake every husband makes: “Why? What happened?” The moment I say this, I realise…I have opened the dam. She starts crying and explains how my mother is actually a witch…that my father and I have failed to identify for 30 years. I instantly agree....I do one better, actually - I upgrade her to a senior-level witch. After some time, my wife is convinced I am on her side. She sleeps peacefully. And because she sleeps peacefully, I also sleep peacefully. Next morning, while wearing my shoes, I wink at my wife and ask, “Which is bad?” She glances at my mother and says, “Yes… the witch is bad.” I then turn to my mother and ask, “Which is bad?” She says, “The blue one.” I immediately remove the blue socks and wear the black ones. As I leave, I whisper to my mother, “I know you both fought… but I trust you. See, even for my socks, I still ask you.” As I start the car, I hear noises from the balcony. In the rear-view mirror, I see them holding each other… by their unkempt hair. They really can’t stay away from each other. +++++++ I didn’t know what advice to give him. Honestly…he doesn’t need advice. He needs a Padma Sri. Would you have some advice for him?

@sethupathy_ts I agree

@ouchmytoe It’s normal not only in Chennai but everywhere

We live in a nice township in Chennai, and our neighbours are nice people… till the time they aren’t. Recently, when Rekha and I had gone for a morning walk, an elderly couple stopped us and accused me of cheating on Rekha. Nothing like a light allegation to warm up before your walk. We knew the couple - they lived on the second floor of the block right next to ours, and since we were also on the second floor, we had a direct line of sight into each other's living rooms. Basically, we don’t have neighbours. We have CCTV. Pointing at me, the old lady said, “This man here is not good for you. I have seen him with another woman.” Rekha gave me a stare. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I promise… no! Also… I don’t even have that kind of energy.” My wife turned towards the lady and asked, “Where did you see him, aunty?” “In your own living room - he was holding her close, caressing her back, and also kissing her,” the lady continued. Now this angered me. If at all I was going to cheat, I knew it wouldn’t be in my house. I was smarter than that. I can bear all insults, but being considered dumb is unbearable. Rekha turned towards me and asked, “Is aunty saying the truth? Who is she, Rajan?” “I don’t know… let’s ask her,” I shot back. After all, she seemed to know more about this affair than I did. At this point, even I was curious to meet this woman. My neighbour aunty was unstoppable. “Yesterday, early in the morning, I saw your husband hugging a much younger woman in the living room.” This surprised Rekha. “Aunty, I was at home at that time. Besides the two of us, there was nobody in the house.” I stayed silent. Life has taught me that when you are being accused, it is best to limit your words. “But I saw him holding her close, caressing her hair, and even kissing her,” the aunty continued. Now I knew it was my time to step in. “Was it around 5:30 am yesterday?” “Yes, exactly! So you agree?” the old lady enquired. “Ohh aunty, you are mistaken. Rekha was stepping out for a walk, and I just hugged and kissed her for a bit before she left.” There was a bit of silence. A smile lit up Rekha’s face. Now it was my wife’s turn. She held the aunty’s hands and said, “The younger-looking lady you saw in our living room was me. Don’t worry - Rajan was just hugging and kissing me.” The aunty looked at us, clearly unconvinced. Then she got irritated for not having an impact. She started to leave, but not before muttering, “Liars! Which 50-year-old man kisses his own wife?!” As she walked away, her husband followed quietly behind her… like a man who had accepted his reality. Because clearly, in some houses… kissing your wife is a forgotten art.

@Iconboss0418 🤣🤣

@ouchmytoe It's good..what if she has assumed the other way around 🤪🤪🤪🤪

@HumanGopolitics Ha ha ha that's a perfect meme for my stories

@ouchmytoe Congratulations Sir! As always, a perfectly matching meme is found for your post!!

@1mp15hlyY0ur5 Not really... chennai is traditional for sure...but not that bad.

@ouchmytoe Nothing like Chennai when it comes to moral policing. And what was the aunty doing? Indulging in voyeurism? Kinky!

@StockSamurai25 That's an awesome habit man. Keep it up!

@ouchmytoe Haha! They are still trying to find that young lady! Most aunties are peace breakers. So, got to be careful. Most uncles are nice blokes though. Life blances out for all I suppose. BTW, I hug and kiss my wife twice a day. 😊 😲🤣🤣🤣

@Sanjeev_Khanted I can imagine 😁

@ouchmytoe Same shit happens in our apartment. A male medical student, engaged to get married next year, lives on our floor. His fiance visits him once a month from her hometown. The moment that lady enters the apartment, moral lectures start appearing in the apartment whatsapp group.

@LTermInvestor I am a story teller...never said it was true

@ouchmytoe Not true, but intersting story, next time please verify it with gpt to make it more believable

@vsivasundravel But ADMK? 😁

@ouchmytoe I thought ADMK would win, NTK and DMK would fight for opposition and TVK would get 3-5 MLAs maybe due to the fan club. Never imagined that TN would go nuts JUST over REELS/INSTA/other fake social media posts/videos and decide their fate. Thanks to ECI which made this possible.

@ShwetaSubra Ohh wow that's so cool to hear from an ouchmytoe reader after such a long time. labnol was @labnol 's not mine. He is also a friend from the mid 2000s.

@ouchmytoe Good to see you @ouchmytoe

@PoornimaNimo That's a fantastic reply by your parents! Hats off!

I can relate to this. Some aunties living in my building can specify the date and time when I left my flat and went out in the night to return after an hour or two. When they question me, and I inform them that I had gone to attend to an emergency, they look unconvinced. For them the behaviour of any girl irrespective of whether she is a doctor, who goes out at odd hours of the night, is suspicious. The only difference is that my parents when informed of my outings reply, "It's so nice of you to keep an eye on our daughter. Do continue to monitor her. But we trust our daughter." That transforms their face as if they have tasted a sour lemon.

@narayananh 🤣🤣

@ouchmytoe ROFLMAOing at “Which 50-year-old man kisses his own wife?”

@raamki At least this way someone looks at me 😁

@ouchmytoe Neighbour aunties doing classical neighbour aunty things, spying on neighbours 🤣

@vsivasundravel Just curious...who did you expect to win?

@ouchmytoe I was surprised at the 2026 TN election results. Now I am convinced that, this new government is based on such social media posts like this and people who post anything for view. TN deserves what it deserves.

@SreenivasbhatP Vip prison actually

@ouchmytoe The apartments have become independent prisons. Nobody to talk, share & trust. So, ppl are feeling alone in the crowd. Everything is suspicious. They want to take care being elders but their own children proved that none listens to them, when she tried to act elderly it misfired.

@KittyRaje There is always a 50% chance of you being right 😜

@Forgefiresteel Good one man!

@ouchmytoe Ok Jamshed, you've convinced me. I'm now willing to kiss your wife as well. Happy now?

Today, Rekha and I went to Westside to buy two pairs of trousers for me. As always, by the time we came out, we had bought one pair of trousers for me and two “unplanned, but too beautiful to leave behind” shirts for my wife. After being with her for more than 25 years, I have realised that this is how the rest of my life is also going to be. She is always going to walk out with more than what I agreed on. Today at Westside, I realized one more thing: When, as a youngster, I would wander towards the ladies' lingerie section on my way to the “trial rooms” to help Rekha select her clothes, I would be shooed away by the sales girls. To their credit, I remember being very “fidgety” once I was near the innerwear section. Today, as I waited outside the trial room for Rekha to try on the pink striped shirt, I realized I was among a ton of bras and panties. I looked around - they were available in all colors, sizes, and shapes. After a few seconds of glancing around, I took out my mobile and opened the Google News app. That’s when Rekha got out of her trial cubicle and asked, “Does this fit well?” If you know women enough, you will know that the fit doesn’t matter. Before the lady walks into the trial room, you have to read the signs and figure out which of the clothes she is taking in, does she like? And when she steps out wearing them, you are supposed to say, “Wow… it is as if this was stitched with you in mind.” That’s exactly what I did, and Rekha went back in to try out the next one. Before she stepped out, I got a chance to survey the lingerie section once again. In those 60 seconds that Rekha took to put on the next outfit and come out, I realized the truth - I had changed. Maybe that is what age does. Maybe that is what marriage does. Over time, you stop noticing the noise around you and focus only on the person you came with.

The Rajans are known for three characteristics: we are hardworking, hilarious, and honest. That’s why 25 years back, when Rekha (then my girlfriend and now my wife) asked, “I love you. Will you marry me?” My immediate response was, “I am allergic to dust.” Sceptics will argue that I tried to change the topic or evade the commitment. But I was just living up to the traditions the males in the Rajan’s family have always upheld - be truthful to the woman in your life. Maybe because I was good-looking, or maybe because she believed I would be rich someday, Rekha didn’t walk away because of my dust allergy. She replied, “I was born with a broomstick in my hand...don’t worry...I will keep our house clean.” Back then, I remember thinking that she was just the kind of woman I wanted to live with. But with time, I have realized that maybe Rekha always wanted to marry a man with a weakness - in my case, a man with a weak pair of lungs. Just in case push comes to shove, and she had to topple him off. And here is my evidence: In the last few months, she has started sleeping with the AC on at 18 degrees Celsius all night. Despite a comforter, I freeze all through the night. I have fallen sick twice, and have a blocked nose every alternate day. And since the room is so cold, I have to get up to pee at least twice at night. With no proper sleep, I am breaking down both mentally and physically. Every day, I am more tired than the day before. But then we Rajans don’t give up so easily. When it comes to issues within relationships, we are fighters, warriors, soldiers - all rolled into one. So, I walked up to Rekha and said, “Our bedroom is very cold. So, going forward, I am going to sleep in the kids' bedroom.” “You sure?” She asked me. Not once did she mention that she would switch off the AC. And before I could reply, she followed up: “By evening, I will set up your bed in the kids’ bedroom.” I have been sleeping in the other bedroom for two weeks now. Not sure if my wife wanted to kill me, and I escaped...or she didn’t want me in the same bedroom, and succeeded. Note: I don’t mind giving up eight hours every night in the bedroom as long as I regularly get “our half hour” with her. 😉