blowing. The shamiana in the Officer’s Mess was all lit up, the army wives, dressed in dazzling finery, were lined up to receive the officers. The men walked up the drive, talking in deliberately hearty tones, interspersed with a lot of laughs. They were in formal attire and somehow, it seemed as if they were sweating under their collars. For a while it seemed easy going. The drinks came out and it was discovered that the women had opted to settle for homemade fruit punch. In the face of the enthusiasm with which they were handed a glass each, the men had to down the drink. Many a longing look was cast at the bar in the far corner. The snacks brought no succour. The ladies had tried exotic foods and there was an array of dainty sandwiches and spring rolls with creamy fillings. A male voice was heard muttering, “Whatever happened to the kebabs and tikkas?” Then they brought on the entertainment. No doubt, the husbands had come prepared to enjoy a witty skit or two, sundry songs, and maybe a fashion show. What they had to sit through were two ghazals, each more sonorous than the other, a qawwali, where quantity tried to make up for lack of quality, a trilogy of singularly unfunny bland jokes delivered deadpan, and a finale of a group song. When the games were announced, the men protested. But they were mercilessly forced into playing ‘Wear a sari fast’ and ‘Paper walk.’ A few were seen mopping their brow at the end of this segment of the entertainment. It was a cowed lot of husbands who hastily said their goodbyes. One husband said grimly. “We shall take our revenge soon.” And they left, leaving behind a lot of women with their mouths agape. “Didn’t they enjoy the night?” asked a mystified major’s wife. That was a question which had no answer. | ||||||||||
Labels: army parties, Humour, Husbands Night