A Kingdom Lost

Rewind to your days of single-dom when you were monarch of all you saw and your king-dom encompassed your apartment, your car, your music, your television, your refrigerator, your wardrobe, your bed, your couch.

You had free will. For instance, you could choose to sleep on the couch, a conscious choice. You had the bed available, but you chose (chose being the key word here) to sleep on the couch.

Fast forward to marriage-hood. The kingdom has been lost, the lands taken. The couch is the equivalent of 'naughty corner' for you. The last place where le Resistance is still about is the bathroom (provided you have secured the door from the inside). And even here the barbarians are at the gate. Almost immediately. And (almost) continuously from the moment you go in. Or when she realizes you are not be be seen and must have taken refuge in the loo.

The interrogation starts with the innocuous "Will you be long?"

The first few questions in a polygraph test are designed to put you at ease.

“No, I am almost done.”

“How long will you be?”

At this point of time you feel you need to exert your independence. “I just got in.”

“You shouldn’t take too long. It’s not good.”

“I am not taking long.”

Pregnant pause till both parties consider their next course of action. The small stack of books on the sill next to me lies forgotten. I am furiously thinking of what to say next in order to gain those precious, few, additional minutes of peace. There are only seven pages to go in the chapter. This truth will not fly.

“I know you are reading. Why don’t you read here in the room.”

“I am not reading (I return the book to the stack). I would read in the room if I wanted to.” And if I had been permitted to do so by the things-that-need-to-be-done-around-the-house list. In the house, 'reading' has the same social status as 'loitering'.

“What are you doing then?”

“What do you do in the bathroom?”

“You possibly can’t take that long. Have you any idea what the time is? You’ve been in there for half an hour!"

I used to fall for this one. I call the bluff. “No. It hasn’t been that long.” Two can play this game!

"Seriously! How long has it been then?" Damn! She calls my bluff!

“It’s been 12 minutes,” I lie. I am not sure how long it has been. I always forget to note the time so I can substantiate my argument with facts.

Pause. A quick re-evaluation of strategies. I pick up the book again and get through a couple more paragraphs.

"Are you ok? I think you should see a doctor?”

"I'm fine"

Another breather after this flanking attack.

Beginning to end, this inquisition via the door lasts from between 12 to 23 minutes and it is accompanied by a knocking steadily gaining in peremptoriness and the voice gaining an edge. As if a drummer were setting the rhythm for the siege. Bring out the battering ram.

My replies, of course, are irrelevant. Whatever I say, will most likely be unable to impede the question next in sequence.

In fact, the last few question-phrases from "What are you doing there?" to "Are you ok?" give the feeling that you are an errant child who has managed to lock himself up in the bathroom but false pride prevents him from admitting his mistake and wailing for help.

You are plagued by "What ifs.." What if the lock is indeed faulty..? What if you have managed to lock yourself in..? Just like your son frequently manages to lock everyone out. What if all these fears are true..? How would you face the world ever again? This last refuge would be compromised forever. It would begin an era of an open-door-policy where you would need to whistle as you sat enthroned so people knew that the King lives (Long live the King).

Her devious plan has succeeded there is now doubt in your mind. With doubt comes the fall. There is but one way to exorcise these demons of doubt: the spirit of science takes over, you test the lock - move the lever and turn the knob. And the stand is over. The castle is taken. The King is dead. Long live the King.

It is incredible that a woman who has the patience to feed a child three spoonfuls of rice in lunch for an entire afternoon loses patience after 17 minutes of bathroom time by the husband.