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“I don’t know why you have to get so angry about the smallest of things,” he says. “Oh, so I am the one who’s wrong now?” I ask.
“I know what I am doing,” I say to him. “I have read all the instructions carefully and that too multiple times.”
He continues to explain all the instructions to me.
“Listen,” I finally say. “Stop mansplaining.”
He sends another voice note with explanations and a message about who I can approach to get help.
“Stop mansplaining,” I say again, without reacting to any of his messages.
“I am not trying to do that,” he replies. “See, you are so confused. That is why you need help. Approach her, she’ll guide you.”
“Yes, you are!” I say once again. “Yes, you are mansplaining.”
“If you felt that way, then I am sorry,” he says. “I was just trying to help…”
“It’s fine,” I reply.
“I don’t know why you have to get so angry about the smallest of things,” he says.
“Oh, so I am the one who’s wrong now?” I ask. “You’ll guilt-trip ME for calling out YOUR mansplaining?”
“Okay, fine,” he says. “Let’s please end this conversation here.”
“Sure,” I reply as I keep my phone aside.
My phone rings after five minutes.
“Don’t forget to call her tomorrow,” he says. “She’ll help you out.”
“I thought you just said that you wanted to end the conversation,” I snap.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he replies. “The conversation about you thinking that I was mansplaining, not about the help you need.”
I don’t reply to him and keep my phone aside, once again.
He sends three more messages with the names and contact details of three different people I can reach out to.
“Wow! You’re such a saviour.” I say sarcastically when I’ve had enough. “I have so much more clarity now.”
“You’re welcome,” when I hear him smile, I know that couldn’t sense the sarcasm in my tone.
I get back to my work and try hard to forget everything he said. However, while reading the instructions again, I realise that I hadn’t just been right, but even accurate when it came to my understanding of the entire process. So, I take a picture this time to prove my correctness to him.
“Correct!” he replies, as soon as he sees the picture. “I was wrong.”
I don’t respond.
He sends a smiling face to me a few minutes later.
I still don’t respond.
Image source: a still from short film Ghar ki Murgi
A dysgraphic writer who spends most of her time watching (and thinking about) Bollywood films. read more...
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