I try to stifle a yawn but fail miserably. Thankfully, the microphone of the office laptop is muted. It’s been a long six months, and I miss the sprawling campus of my organization.
Ting! The WhatsApp comes alive. I read the message.
How did I forget it?
Instantly, I toss my headset on the table and rush to the bedroom, taking my mobile with me. I open the wardrobe.
Do I have sarees in nine colours?
I curse myself for not buying the Jamdani from that exhibition. If only I had attended that relative’s wedding, I would have been the proud possessor of a beautiful Kancheevaram. I make a mental note to self. No more procrastination when it comes to a sale. Or accepting invitations.
Promise done, I take out five sarees with matching blouses and underskirts, three salwar kameez sets and one shirt dress. By this time, husband has smelt a rat. He comes rushing to the bedroom.
“Are you angry with me?”
I stare at him, confused. Ah! “No, I am not a heroine from Bollywood. If at all I am furious, rest assured, I am not going to desert you and let you enjoy your newfound freedom.”
He heaves a sigh of relief.
“Oh. I forgot. This is that time of the year again. That color-coded Navaratri. Remember last time?”
“Yeah, I do. But going out in these times…?”
“Who said anything of that sort? I will drape myself in these sarees and put up selfies in the WhatsApp group. Let’s enjoy within the confines of our home.”
I close my wardrobe when a thought strikes me.
“Hey! I need to put a caption in Facebook every day. Any suggestion?”
Husband retorts, “dressed to the nines.”
Oops. Who says accountants do not have a sense of humour?
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