I am the Boss. Or Not?

My father used to introduce mother as, “Meet my Mrs,” or “Meet my wife.” He would refrain from taking her first name, even though she was a good five years younger than him. Mother did not take offence as it was a matter of propriety with no intentions of belittling her identity. However, during private conversations my parents had endearing terms for calling each other. As we grew up, they opted for a more conservative ‘suniye’.

Most couples today, do not shy away from taking first names. Short meaningful names ensure that you don’t become a Bebo or a Duggu. Or Pappu. Or Munna. 

Since I had an official short name, name mangling was never my concern. But as they say, in life, expect the unexpected. It so happened that when I got married, my sister-in-law turned out to be my namesake. The husband refused to call me by the same name. He did come up with some alternatives, but his pickings were spurned with the angst of youth.“The change of family name is enough. I am not going to change my first name,” I declared.


So I oscillated between unmentionable terms of endearment which are so lovingly bestowed during the first few months of marriage.Baby, Baba, Janu, Jani, Kootchie, Pootchie. After the initial ‘pyaar ka bukhaar’ subsided, it dawned that all the above terms were ‘haww-worthy’ in a joint family. Thus began the hunt for a new name.
As happens, after a decade of marriage, the husband began to enjoy ‘Wife is Boss’ jokes. The ones which go like, 'A man is incomplete until he is married. After that, he is finished', or 'It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss'. These jokes have been done to death, but they never cease to amuse married men.

Meanwhile, I don’t exactly remember when and how, I was christened as ‘The Boss’. This was also the time when ‘Hari Sadu’ advertisement for ‘naukri.com’ was on air. Remember, H for Hitler, A for Arrogant, R for Rascal…? Worse, our son joined the chorus and began calling me 'The Boss'. In fact, the way I find myself obeying our son, it seems as if he is the Biggest Boss. As if it was not enough, my mother called to say, " How are you doing Boss?"
And this Bossing charade irks more after they take a decision and then inform, 'Boss, we've booked the tickets'. Worse, the father and son duo ‘Boss’ me at social gatherings. Interestingly, there is a distinct sense of déjà vu among my husband’s colleagues. They smile knowingly as if to say, “We are in the same boat”.
So yes, my pet name, alternately irritating and endearing, has become the bane of my life.

“Which curtains to buy?”
“You're the boss. You decide.”

“Where should we go for a vacation?”
“You're the boss. You decide.”

“Should I go jump in a well?”
“You're the boss. You decide.”

Believe you me, I am anything but bossy. I am lulled into believing that I am one. Just as Manmohan Singh was.