‘Kiss karne wale bhaisaab’

“Excuse me.”

I turn around to see the smiling faces of a couple (both of them middle-aged) looking at me with dazed expressions.

“Yes,” I say a bit cautiously. What’s the matter?

“Aap wahi kiss karne wale bhaisaab ho na?”

The way they say the sentence, it appears that kissing people is my occupation.

 

Uh oh. This is the umpteenth time that I have heard this question since I entered the mall. Apparently it seems that many frequent visitors at this place, who were present during the kissing episode, have also come here today and just can’t stop talking about it.

“Err…Yes, I guess so.”

After somehow managing to escape from their chatter about how my kiss has ‘inspired’ them to be more romantic, I concentrate on the reason I have come to the mall once again.

 

And boy, given the ordeal I am facing right now, the appreciation about my ‘kissing prowess’ doesn’t make me feel much better.

There’s NO hope for me anymore

“Listen, I need a favour.”

When my office landline had rung in the afternoon, and these words of Priyal had greeted me, I still had no idea that what was in store for me.

“What, your mother will stay with us today? Shall I pick her up on my way back?” I asked.

A few days ago, wifey was grumbling about how she hadn’t spent some quality ‘mother-daughter time’ in ages.

“Oho, am I dreaming, or my husband is actually happy about the fact that my mother will stay with us during the weekend. Seriously did it take only one kiss to bring this sea of change in you?”

Now, how do I explain that if mommy-in-law comes to our house, then Priyal will have too many things on her plate to grumble over my friends time, playing some good old card games (What’s wrong with a little bit of gambling?).

We also plan to open the bottle of imported wine that one of my friend’s brother-in-law (yup, in-laws do come handy sometimes) had sent from Venice.

“I am a little busy today. So can you please buy some makeup items for me? I’m emailing you the list.”

Thank god that none of my colleagues are nearby. Otherwise, they would have unanimously agreed that there’s NO hope for me anymore.

 

.

“Why are you so silent? Is something wrong?” Priyal asks edgily.

Sigh…“Sure dear, send me the list.”

Blush? I am already blushing!

“May I help you, sir?”

A girl, probably in her mid-twenties is striding towards me. Her uniform tells me that she works in the store and has obviously singled me out from the way I was standing in the middle of the aisle, looking clueless among the other customers, all of whom, are women.

“Err… I have a few makeup ‘stuff’ to buy for my wife. She has given me this list.”

“Sure. Can I see it?”

“Here, the first thing that I need is blush.”

It would be fair enough to say that as I said these words, am pretty sure that I myself was halfway through blushing. God, if any of my friends came to know that I was buying makeup for my wife, there would be hell in store for me in our WhatsApp group (Not to mention this blushing ‘unnaturally’ with the help of makeup thingy kinda got me confused).

“to know the type that will suit your wife the most, can you tell me about her face?”

“What?”

What’s the shape of my wife’s face?

So does Priyal has an oval face or a long one? Wait this doesn’t make sense at all.

“Umm…I can call her.”

“And ask her what kind of a face she has?” the girl looks at me incredulously.

Well, she is right. If I make the call, it will be the last call of my life.

“I think she has a long face or wait is it square?”

Snigdha (yes that’s the name of the girl) looks at me pitifully.

“I actually need to know her complexion, based on which I’d tell you the appropriate blush.”

And thus, we have finally managed to pick up the right blush for Priyal (Snigdha is a big help), and I’ve even heard some of the ladies in the store complain that how their husbands never shop for them.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug, but that feeling lasted only till the time I saw the next item on my list.

Eyelashes, that too fake???

Fake eyelashes! Unknowingly, I touched my eyes, with the expression on my face reminiscent of a time when used to sit for my math exams, with the same perplexed expression.

“How could someone wear fake eyelashes? What’s wrong with your own ‘original ones’???”

 

“Men!” Snigdha shakes her head.

The next time Priyal chides me for being messy (Seriously who cares I wear socks of different colors by mistake) I am bound to bring up this eyelash thing.

And then we did a short roundabout of the shop, all this time, Snigdha lecturing me about fake eyelashes and how they are put on.

“See, at least, he is attentive,” I hear one of the women comment while Snigdha is telling me about the usage of mascara (no idea what that is) to blend the eyelashes.

And then, for the next hour or so, I have learnt about the various brands of lipsticks, eyeliners, curling of lashes (most of the stuff has gone over my head) and other cringe-worthy makeup details.

I couldn’t help but think that Priyal might feel the same way every time I entertain her with my stories of gambling gains (although most of them are losses) or office politics.

So, after thanking Snigdha big time, I was finally on my way home with the purchase tucked under my arms.

‘My dear ‘metrosexual’ husband.’

“I must say, that you haven’t done badly at all! Who could have thought that my grumpy husband would turn out to be such a seasoned fashionista with an impeccable sense of style?”

“Ha, that’s perhaps because you always underestimate me. Shopping today was a piece of cake. Always knew was going to be easy,” well, I generally don’t let go of any chance to brag in front of Priyal.

“I’ve specially picked the cherry shade for you, perfect wear for the evening, and the orange fiesta will go very well with your skin tone, but it’s dangerous for nights, it will disappear, use the shade during the day. Oh, and when you click a selfie, don’t forget to pout, because the shades will surely make your lips look fuller.”

“How do YOU know all of this?”

“Snigdha, the salesgirl! She taught me. And, the cherry shade is, in fact, her favorite. These nail paints I’ve got, are also her choice. She applied them on my nails & very softly took it off. It was the perfect finger massage. Guess what, Priyal? She said that you’re very lucky to have a husband like me, and gave me her number, just in case we decide to exchange something! Isn’t that wonderful? Snigdha is just the best.”

I was unstoppable, and kinda on fire. Oh dear God, what was wrong with me? Did I catch makeup cooties? Not so confused anymore, am I?

It was all worth the expression Priyal was wearing. She was clearly shocked, and I knew she’d never send me to buy makeup again.

Thank you, Snigdha.