Object d' art

Do you recognise this object in the photograph? Yes. It is a mirror stand having four wobbly legs waiting to topple at the slightest nudge and shatter into pieces. A valuable addition to the umpteen number of other artefacts occupying all the available space in our house, causing clutter and gathering dust. This is MY description, being conveyed to you in the strictest confidence. I do not want this description to reach my wife’s ears/eyes and jeopardise a marriage of twenty five years, which, though has wobbled occasionally like the object of discussion here, has not toppled.
According to my wife, it is a beautiful piece of art carrying loads of aesthetic value that could offset the effect of all the eyesores that I have managed to create during the construction of our house (with my stupid idea of building a house without the help of an architect) and bring about considerable improvement in the general outlook, by simply standing in one (and the only available) corner.
And the shopkeeper’s version is “ this my friend, is a dressing mirror having a container for storing combs and cosmetics, carved out of ‘teak’wood from Punjab and having intricate and very delicate inlay work all over.” He assures us that it is very stable and requires the services of three elephants or two bulldozers (if you do not want to be cruel to animals) to topple it.

It was nearly twenty years back that we saw this object in one of the shops at the Margao market. It was love at first sight for my wife.
“See that mirror. How beautiful!”
“Indeed it is nice” I agreed. Our marriage was just 3-4 years old and I still had an L board.
“Shall we ask how much it is?”
“Why not?” I too have this habit of getting to know the price of things that we may or may not intend buying - just for the heck of it - and did not think twice.
“We don’t have a good mirror in our house.” The tube in my head just started flickering.
“Eh? oh, yes .” I replied.
“If it is not very costly, we can buy it. Is it not?” The tube lighted up and I did see the pot hole but it was too late to swerve.
We asked the price. It was 1500 rupees and my salary then was about 2000 rupees. I told her that we have a choice between the mirror and food for twenty days. She was also a novice and had a lot of faith in her husband’s judgement. She gave up easily and I was out of the pothole without falling.
Those days, I had the absolute control of the handle of our scooter and my pillion had not learnt to drive from the backseat and so, I could and did avoid that street till I was sure that the mirror was sold.

Many years later an exactly similar piece was seen in the same shop once again and it attracted my wife like a magnet with double strength. Ten years into marriage she had realised that the set of questions like, “Is it not a nice thing?”, “Should we buy it?”, “what do you say?” were all counterproductive and had delegated them to the dustbin. She also had controlling stakes in the finances and running of the house.
“See, that mirror is there again. I was a fool to listen to you the last time. I am going to buy it now”
“Should we not ask the price?”
“We had asked it last time, is it not? It may be a little more now and I CAN MANAGE.”
I frantically prayed for inspiration and got some.
“OK then. If we HAVE to buy it, yes. But you should tell me where you are going to keep it. I do not want to add to the junk that we have piled on the loft.”
At that time we were in a two bedroom flat. Three fourths of the living room was my clinic, and the remaining space was occupied by a sofa which served our guests and rarely, a waiting patient. No chance there.
Next was the kitchen. Just the thought of placing such a piece of art in the kitchen with all the clutter there was an insult and even if the object didn’t mind the insult, there was no space whatsoever.
One of the bedrooms had a pair of cots and two cupboards. We could place the mirror in the space between them, if we decided not to open the cupboards ever and if we could climb on to the cot over the headboard. So it was ruled out.
The other room had our dining table with four chairs, an easy chair, two cane chairs, a small writing desk which was being used by my elder son, a sewing machine and a washing machine. None of them would budge an inch to allow a newcomer, whatever be the aesthetic value.

My wife was trying her best to find some accommodation when I was granted the next installment of inspiration. I told her that our younger son, an expert climber, would find the mirror stand tempting and challenging. I said that we may end up not only with broken wood and glass, but also broken limbs and skull. She loved the mirror but loved her son more. She gave out a deep sigh and came away turning around again and again to look at the mirror till it was out of sight.

Thereafter , once we saw an younger brother of the thing in a shop at Panaji. It was similar in all respects but was considerably smaller. My wife’s heart was not ready to accept the dwarfed version and she enquired with the salesman if he can procure a bigger one. She even offered him an advance but he said that they had stopped making the bigger ones. I thought that I had seen the last of that mirror and secretly arranged an ‘Abhishek’ for Lord Balaji, who had just then come to reside in the newly constructed temple near our house. I never ever imagined that he would deceive me after accepting my bribe. He has started learning from his disciples.

Fifteen days back when we went to Margao this mirror was standing again in it’s corner in the same shop.
Now, we have a larger house and though my wife has tried her best to fill it to the brim, it has one last corner empty.
She knows the finances in and out and some of my patients who owe me my fees, have the habit of coming in at odd hours and if I am not present, hand over the money to my wife.
Our children have grown up, and even though sometimes I get doubts about their intelligence levels, I am sure that they do not attempt to climb over this mirror stand.
My wife , now, is fully seasoned and “I will ask my husband” is reserved for occasions where she is sure that her answer is negative, but do not intend saying so.

She was not going to squander this last chance, and asked for the price. On hearing the price, she felt that the piece was worth it but would be even more attractive if the price went down a bit. I told her to go and bargain with the shop fellow. I was holding on to the faint hope that the fellow may not budge and that my wife may refuse to buy at the price quoted. “How can I bargain for that beautiful piece. It is actually worth what he is asking for. I have asked him so many times if can get it for me. And that fellow is so decent and courteous. I cannot go there and bargain with him. YOU DO IT and if you are not capable of getting the price reduced, I will resign to my fate and buy it at whatever price he quotes.” And that was an order. If you do not understand this sentiment, ask those who love to eat chicken but cannot bring themselves to kill one.

There was absolutely no chance of preventing the acquisition. If I bargained, I may at least be able to reduce the damage to my purse. So I went to the shop, bargained with the fellow, and to my credit, could bring down the price a bit. So, at last, my wife is the proud owner of this object d’art and I do hope that with it’s presence, it will bring about a skyward revision of aesthetics and goodwill in our house and will make my wife overlook all the eyesores and irritants, starting with yours truly.