Playing audience to Les Femmes

One of the situations I dread ending up in and yet am forced into frequently is playing audience to the fairer sex. “Thou shalt talk incessantly” seems to be a trait originating in the female hormones.
My spat with the last landlady (which made me move out of my last tenancy at a night’s notice) taught me the benefits of being on friendly terms with the lady of the house, who more often than not are the de facto rulers of their premises and thus of the tenants who occupy them.
Agreed, and the fact that she (my current landlady) spoke my native tongue and was from the same district as I, seemed to help (or so it seemed then) matters. Well, so some sorrys and thank-yous later, now like in countless stories – I sneak up and down through the stairs – while passing through – and this not because I have rent pending to be paid – but , well, if she catches you – a minimum of half an hour is done for.
So usually it happens like this – I come home tired and with smoke smeared on my face and inside nostrils – and I have to get in and cook – and Her Majesty will be done with all her chores and would be waiting for her hubby; boredom borne of day-long solitude writ large on her face.
And then it happens – a steady barrage of all too familiar words starts falling on me ( and I try taking cover in the corner of the stair).Accounts I had heard so many times before – of her crazy westernised son – of his travails abroad – of his retrofitting exploits on his motorbike – of his earth shattering music system – of his countless overseas offers promising big-bucks – of his  first days away from his home,parents – abroad - all punctuated with lots of  what-has-become-of-this-generation-s – man the list is boring.
All this while I just nod my head (I did try interjecting with my own similar experiences – and then realised its futility - she was clearly not the corporate trainer who wanted the “session to be interactive”).
And then she would crib about not being able to go “native” whenever she feels like, having to take care of all the floors rented out – ‘not like you people’ she’d say – ‘can lock ,your house anytime you wish and go anywhere’ – well said I, big (monetary) returns  sure entail big responsibility ; this won’t be taken  in very well and I make an escape – ‘UP, up and away’.
There are two other tenents in her house – both from the same “native” as I – and they’re couples – young ones – I always wonder why  she won’t catch one of the their females ( that may give some respite to the young husbands too).Maybe she thinks he’s just a bachelor – and so no responsibilities (spelt w-o-m-a-n).
Which is not entirely true – I do have a woman home whose endless talk needs patient ears – my mother. She has always craved for having another female in the household,first for a daughter and now for a daughter-in-law and since she eyes me with expectations for the latter – I try warding them off by playing both the daughter and the in-law.
Whenever I visit her she would constantly keep summoning me – she would even arrange for a chair for me in the kitchen – so that I can relax while I listen to her talk and she won’t burn the food either.
And once the talk did seem interesting – all scandalous gossip from the north and the north-east where she had worked – the countless iterations of the Mallu Principal of her school having an affair with a Nepalese office clerk – and the affair goes public - waaah – that was where it all started – there were dozens of other stories followed which she repeated ceaslessly.( I wonder why women , who are such careful folks – never quite remember that they’ve already narrated that story many times before.Or maybe do they)

Of late after settling in the ‘native’ she has lost the all-married-females social circle which is the breeding ground for scandalous gossip- real and imaginary.
Now the stories are less interesting – property feuds in family – her alcoholic brothers and their failed marriages – all very depressing talk.
I usually feign exhaustion after the travel home and try dissapperaing into some ‘remote’ corner in the house – but she finds me invariably.
Well if you think that its married , matronly women who suffer from this malaise you are grossly mistaken. In the one year I gave company to this female who was my colleague as well as neighbour – she would have told me everything about her (well almost atleast) – over and over again.
And all that when she was having an intimate affair with a richie rich guy. It was absolute torture when the day of her birthday she would tell me the details of her midnight tete-a-tete with her lover at a secluded spot near the airport – ‘and then he kissed me’ she would end – and then she realised that she was talking to a guy and hide her face with her palms and say ‘…on the cheeks’ as means for damage control.
Since we commuted to office from the same locality – we would be travelling together on bus daily – she would make me sit far from her (she gets ‘irritated’ by anyone sitting closeby) and then she would tell me how her affair started , what he was wearing on their last date, which upmarket restaurant he took her last,why they quarrelled – and whether she should now call him up or wait for him to say sorry. The trend had repeated so many times , that I had learnt by-heart what she’d be saying – beacause as I’m a little hard of hearing  and would be sitting far – I would keep missing chunks – and she’s too sharp to notice – she would stop her drawl and shout – ‘what did I say?’ – mercifully – most of the time I was able to interpolate from the context. Else I would have be charged with  ‘carelessness towards friend with malicious intent’ and would have to garland her with a wreath of ’sorry it won’t happen agian’s in order to return to normalcy.
And yet all I feel is :its all worth it – in this vast world there are very few people all these women could and would trust – and my pride in being one of them is always more than rewarding for listening to their idle talk.