Kishore Singh: One surprise too many

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Long after the guests had gone, my wife said to me, "Was it a nice surprise?" "It is a surprise all right," I agreed, "that way past midnight, when I should be sleeping in my bed, I should instead be putting away plates and washing glasses."

"But don't you like surprises?" she persisted. "It is true that I like some surprises," I agreed, separating the soiled napkins from those that hadn't been used, and therefore didn't need to be washed, "but not all of them."

"You are saying these things to make me unhappy," said my wife, "all our guests were happy with the surprise." "As well they ought," I said, "since they got to eat and drink at our expense, but they aren't the one's clearing up now, are they?" "It is true," mused my wife, "that when Sarla threw a surprise party for her husband, she made us all stay back so we could help clean up after." "Even though she permitted" "" I added significantly "" "her husband to go to sleep."

"But I worked so hard to make the party a success," my wife griped, "passing on errands to our friends so you would not know a surprise party had been planned at home." "Yes, you were very clever to do that," I agreed, balancing on a chair to stack the dishes away in the shelves, "but I don't see them now emptying the ashtrays." "It is true they are selfish," sighed my wife, "but at least they did bother to come." "Of course, they are our friends, I suppose," I scooped the dining table cover and mats away to the washing machine, "but I wish you wouldn't spring such surprises without some warning."

"Are you upset?" asked my wife. "Not upset, no," I said, sweeping away the crumbs from the coffee table, "but it was hardly nice to come from a day's work at the office to pour drinks for so many people who might as easily have made their own." "There," pointed out my wife, "you need to wipe the glasses before you put them back in the bar. Yes," she continued, "they might have been more considerate, but you can't grudge them a good time, can you?" "I would never do that," I said, removing the leftover snacks and putting them back into their containers, "if only they had been" "" I fumbled for the right phrase "" "less demanding."

"Oh well, at least they liked the food," said my wife with satisfaction. "Oh yes," I said, snuffing out the candles and scraping away the wax drippings, "that must have taken you the better part of the day." "It did," said my wife sheepishly, "though Sarla and Padma and Charulata helped." "You mean they came over to help with the cooking?" I asked, carrying the trash out to the garbage disposal chute. "Not exactly, no..." stuttered my wife, "I asked them to make some things, so..." "And rightly so," I defended her decision, "so what did you do the whole day?"

"Well," said my wife, "I fixed an appointment at the hairdresser's, and then decided to go shopping for a new dress. Did you," she asked, "like it?" "It is very fetching," I said to her, draining the water from the flower vases and adding fresh water, "though it would have been nice if I too had at least had a chance to change my clothes." "There was no need for that," admonished my wife, "just because the surprise party was for you, you must not put on airs." As I drew the drapes and put out the table lamps, I nodded, "Thank you for the party, but next time I would appreciate knowing about it in advance, so I wouldn't be surprised by the amount of work after the party."