“Pin the Saree, Please” – A Satirical Tale
By Dr. Mukesh Aseemit
“Listen, can you pin my saree?”—when these golden words escape my wife’s lips, they feel like nectar trickling into my ears. For me, this little household request is nothing less than the lifting of a planetary curse—like Saturn’s seven-and-a-half-year shadow suddenly vanishing! In fact, these words serve as a ceasefire declaration in the ongoing Indo-Pak war otherwise known as “husband-wife squabble.”
But, mind you, it’s not always this rosy. Sometimes, my wife has gone so far as to extend the “validity” of a quarrel and refused to let me pin the saree at all. That denial of my one and only exclusive right feels like constitutional violation! And then I’m forced to lodge my complaint:
“Fine, if you still want to stay angry, so be it. But at least don’t snatch away this one fundamental right of mine!”
Two days had passed. My wife’s temper had started its slow descent. I was waiting desperately for some formal function where she’d be compelled to wear a saree. After all, for the last 26 years, pinning her saree has been my solemn marital duty. Meanwhile, I had been gorging on heavenly meals. You see, when the lady of the house is upset, the kitchen magically churns out all my favorite dishes. For a man trapped in the floodwaters of marital squabbles, this is nothing short of food packets being airdropped by a rescue helicopter. Except—unlike government rations—these relief packages aren’t shared with anyone else; they’re served entirely to me. Which is why, even in this relief, my heart grows restless.
Such is the asymmetry of domestic conflict: my sleep gets longer, my appetite healthier, and my days brighter—while hers turn into sleepless, foodless, apocalyptic nights.
Peace talks have been attempted many times but collapsed every time. Even appeals to higher authorities, friends were invited , but they politely declined to interfere in our “internal matter.” Friends, you know, are scoundrels. In their own fights, they drag me in as mediator, but when it’s my turn, they run faster than politicians dodging accountability.
One friend went so far as to record his wife’s one-sided tirades during their quarrels. Now, every morning, he listens to those recordings like a devotional recitation of the Hanuman Chalisa. And whenever a fresh quarrel begins, he simply declares:
“Why trouble yourself repeating? I have your golden words on tape—I’ll just replay them!”
Now, coming back to my battlefield. When your own house is burning, neighbors never show up with buckets of water. Instead, they cup their ears to the wall, happily eavesdropping. After all, if there’s no quarrel, there’s no gossip—and without gossip, a neighborhood feels like a deserted ghost town. Thankfully, our maid doubles as a modern-day Sage Narad. Only, instead of a veena, she wields a broom, spreading “breaking news” from one corner of the locality to another.
Truth be told, husband-wife squabbles are universal. They’re as common as traffic jams and power cuts. At our place too, they’re routine—though technically, all the speaking is done from her side and all the listening from mine. Long ago, in the first year of marriage, we even held a “summit talk” where it was mutually decided: her job is to sulk, and mine is to pacify.
Now, the task of initiating quarrels rests solely with the lady commander. No warnings, no preparations, no strategies—just a direct “surgical strike.” Perhaps this is how our Prime Minister got the idea of surgical strikes—maybe from some member of the “Society of Wife-Harassed Husbands.”
Anyway, I’ve developed my own coping techniques to pause the endless skirmishes. You might try others too. For example:
- Tighten all the lids of kitchen utensils so she has to call you for help.
- Invite her relatives for dinner—only her side, not yours.
- Pretend to be ill—exactly the way politicians suddenly fall sick the moment they step into jail.
But beware: some brave fools deliberately prolong quarrels just to enjoy the perks—silence in the house, Swiggy/Zomato deliveries, and the temporary end of nonstop nagging. Poor souls! The day their wives discover this secret strategy, the conflict will stretch longer than the India-Pakistan border dispute.
So, dear reader, if your wife ever says, “Can you pin my saree?”—treasure those words. They’re not just a household request. They’re a peace treaty, a love note, and a constitutional right rolled into one.

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मेरी व्यंग्यात्मक पुस्तकें खरीदने के लिए लिंक पर क्लिक करें – “Girne Mein Kya Harz Hai” और “Roses and Thorns”
Notion Press –Roses and Thorns