The wife was telling me this morning: "Put on your green cardigan with the long sleeves and put a scarf around your neck and tuck it into, the shirt to protect your chest. It is very cold outside."
"Cold never affects me," I said.
The wife said: "You are not young any more and once you catch a cold you catch it for the whole season. Before you put on your clothes, wear your fiannel longjohns, the ones you had got from England and which you have been saving to wear in Kashmir."
"I beg your pardaon." I said. "I would not wear long-johns in Kashmir also."
"Do not argue," the wife said. "Have your vitamin ‘C', prevention is always better than cure, and wear the brown sleeveless cardigan in side, under the shirt, then the green full-sleeved cardigan outside. That way you would be somewhat protected against the cold."
"You are talking as if we are living in Alaska, we are living in Bombay," I said. "A little nip in the air is expected at this time of the year and it is not going to harm me."
"No need to act tough, when you fall ill, I only have to look after you," your knee-length woollen socks, the ones you got from Marks and Spencer that time the security man thought you had stolen them and you had to explain how you did not understand their system of payment. And wear nylon socks under the woollen socks."
"I can't wear everything at the same time," I said:
"Nobody is asking you to wear everything," the wife said., "just a few protective clothes against the cold. And wear thick-soled shoes, you are always catching cold from your feet."
The wife said: "Wear that cap that I got for you from Mahableshwa bazar that covers your ears, it is very good for you. And wear your terrywool suit trouser. And, please, be careful you do not drop anything on your trousers in the office, otherwise the whole suit will be ruined."
"I do not drop things on my trousers," I said, "suit trousers or any other trousers.'
"Wear your blazer," the wife said. "and keep the buttons on. Don't go about with the buttons open, sticking your chest out, like you are Amitabh Bachchan. He can do it, you will catch pneumonia."
"I will not," I said. "And, remember it is not I but Mr. Bachchan who keeps running to his doctors in Switzerland."
"Take your overcoat with you. You want to catch your death of cold, going out without your overcoat," the wife said.
"Anything else," I asked.
"Yes," said the wife, "don't sit near the window in the train."