The husband and I are from different zones. He can watch an hour of aardvarks and capybaras going about their daily lives on National Geographic, I can’t survive without the film channels.
He exercises daily, I talk about exercising every day. He’s a morning person, I like the dark. He can’t live without meat, I eat green stuff. He loves movies with happy endings, I believe most good films centre around the “no pain, no gain” principle. Our marriage works because we are in sync on the big issues—money, sex, parents, what we want out of life. And the fact that I don’t have an opinion on the kind of car we should own.
So, recently, when we had to buy a car, I wasn’t involved, right? Anything was fine. After weeks of scanning the Autocar pros and cons of every vehicle in the Rs6-8 lakh range, the husband announced: “I’ve decided.” The City was too low, the Tavera had a hard clutch, the Innova was a yuppy car.
He wanted an Ambassador.
Growing up, my favourite uncle—a doctor with five sons—had a blue-grey relic that packed all of us comfortably, but nearly toppled off the cliff on one of our regular trips to Matheran. Now, for the first time in seven years of marriage, cars were a controversial issue. Finally, I told him to do whatever he wanted.
Read the story of another couple who went ahead and bought an Ambassador (Page 12).
At Lounge, we take care of both sides. Those of you who like non-fiction can read the biographies story on Page 18, fiction-freaks can turn to a quirky tale of Chandamama’s revamp on Page 20.
This past month, we’ve been bombarded with wine events. The launch of a wine society, a vineyard travel option and too many tastings to count. Find out what’s happening on Page 11. Cheers.
PS: We finally bought a Fiat Adventure (he liked its rugged looks, I liked the Italian eye for design and detail). And when I saw a shiny, maroon Ambassador Grand parked outside our house recently, I asked: “Wow, what car is that?”
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