The third innings?

After decades of government service, I started my second innings in a private firm. Four years later, my family began pressurising me that it was high time I quit the job. I gave lame excuses and continued. One morning, when my wife stated that she was about to become a senior citizen and wanted retirement from household chores, I decided to call it a day and help her.

On a Monday, when I did not leave for office at nine, everyone was surprised and wanted to know the reason. I dramatically announced my retirement and said that I would henceforth enjoy a calm and comfortable life doing things close to my heart. I also told my wife that she could take a back seat and that I would take over her responsibilities, and for starters, I would cook.

Though everyone was amused, none protested. On the first two days, I cooked the only dishes that I knew how to cook-Dal and Chawal for lunch and upma for breakfast. The next day I managed with ready to cook dishes. Unable to digest (!) my culinary offerings, my family voted for status quo which permanently ended my forays into the kitchen.

The next week, I volunteered to go to the market and buy household necessities. A single glance at the bill and the items I had purchased resulted in an unending harangue by my wife. "The rice is full of insects, apart from costing more. How could you purchase goods worth millions for your company without incurring loss?" she questioned. My entry into purchase department was thus blocked forever.

My daughter in law then thought that the best way to utilize my time was to help her in managing her kids. She suggested that I go to my grandson's school and bring him back home. The school was close by and I volunteered that I would start from that very afternoon. Before the closing time, I was in front of the school gate. A group of mothers stood outside. Waiting for the gates to open, I eavesdropped on the hot topic of their discussion -the sudden death of actress Sridevi. The conspiracy theories being floated made me regret as to why I had not thought of consulting them when I had worked as chief of CID.

Soon the school gates opened. When the name of my grandson was called, I inched ahead. The class teacher gave one look at me and said that she cannot hand over the kid as she didn't recognize me. "Look, I am the boy's grandpa, if you don't believe me, you can check with him," I told her. "Nowadays kidnappers are coming in the shape of grandpas," said the security guard. The gathered mothers gave a guffaw. I told the teacher, "Madam, I swear I am his grandfather. I am a former cop. You have to trust me." She shook her head vigorously and sternly said, "Sir, only the mother is authorized to pick up the child, I am sorry." Meanwhile, the child started howling. I called my daughter in law who rushed in her scooter and took the child back.

When I returned home, my wife said, "You are unfit for any domestic work. Please circulate your CVs and start your third innings."