Why Ranveer Singh Gives Us Husband Goals


Why Ranveer Singh Gives Us Husband Goals

Illustration: Shruti Yatam

Deepika Padukone is a lucky woman. Unlike other women her expensive sarees and lehengas are not languishing in her closet post the wedding ceremonies and anniversary celebrations, but are probably being recycled into an exciting wardrobe by her husband Ranveer Singh. I was struck by this epiphany while staring intently at the same six and a half pics that were recycled again and again by all media houses as “never before seen pics of #DeepVeer wedding!!!” over the past year. I can’t stop looking accusingly at my husband because I now know he is totally to blame for all my fancy silks and brocades not having seen sunlight in decades.

Ranveer has given me #HusbandGoals. He not only desires his wife but her garments as well. Why, that man won’t even leave the carpets and bedspreads alone! One minute he is eyeing a grimy jute shopping bag and the next minute it is on him as a waistcoat. Along with #HusbandGoals, he’s given me #UpcyclingGoals.

Even I want a husband who will make a lungi out of my chiffons, pair it with my abandoned blazers with shoulder-pads that went out of fashion in the ’80s, and saunter into a restaurant in my Mickey Mouse jammies and stun the world into a stupefied silence. And why not? That man is the best thing to have happened to women who stash away saris, dresses, and gowns in the fond hope of a future where we’ll actually wear everything in our trousseaus. Instead, we get to have a present where we can see our partners flaunt them with pride.

Girls, do you realise what it means to have a man like Deepika’s husband? We will no longer have to engage in warfare over closet space and fight over hangers. I will finally have company when I stand in front of my row after row of outfits and wring my hands in despair. We can shake our heads slowly before declaring, “Gosh, we, have nothing to wear!” Our bond will become even deeper when we go shopping together for saris, brocades, and lehengas and drape it on each other to check if the colour suits both of us.

That’s it, I decided. No more dithering. It’s action time. I am bringing out the Veer in my husband.

But first I will have to acclimatise him to the unknown. A great unknown where men of a certain vintage can spell “fashion” and actually give a damn about what they wear. I knew I’d have to jolt him out of his current state of complacency and showed him a picture of Ranveer Singh dressed in a mosquito net. For special effects, I had to drool all over my phone before managing to whisper hoarsely, “Look at this vision! Mmmmm… I have always fantasised about you looking like a trapped mosquito.”

I still can’t understand why he stared at me with his eyebrows arranged in a question mark for over five minutes. But it was progress. This is huge, I told myself. This is the longest he has looked at me in years.

The other evening when I caught him looking at me again, I quickly pulled out the heavy dhurrie from under the centre-table, draped it jauntily over his shoulders and used my favourite red gamcha to make an instant cummerbund for him. Then I stood back in silent admiration. I can’t remember the last time you looked this hot, I whispered while choking on my tears.  

Of course, I couldn’t overwhelm him with too much badassery. I would have to take it real slow. My impatience might cost me dearly and I was not ready to forfeit my dream.

So, every few days, when he’d least expect it, I’d thrust a pic of Ranveer dressed in a condom, pyjamas paired with a dhinchak lab coat, in a flowy lehenga, or managing the impossible of wearing a skirt, pants, and salwar at the same time, right under my husband’s nose.

Then I’d sigh loudly, put my cheek on his shoulder and mumble, “My halter-neck maxi will showcase those collarbones of yours so perfectly!”

And all he did was laugh hysterically. Dammit.

Tell me, is it too unreasonable to hope for a man who will happily share my wardrobe? I have been told when a couple has been married for long, they begin looking like each other. Wouldn’t it be better if we started wearing the same clothes as well – just like siblings?

Nope. Subtle hints were not cutting it. Now I had no option but to resort to the extreme and take matters into my own hands.

So, I took off a few of my curtains, threw in a few of my Banarasis, a bunch of pillowcases, and landed at my darzi’s doorstep with an armload of pics of you-know-who Singh.

It’s time my man cut himself loose from his boring trousers and experience true liberation in flowy shararas and lehengas. I want him to feel the sting of the cool air-conditioned breeze on his bare waist in a naughty choli. Maybe even the horror of discovering that his naara was showing from under his wispy chiffon sari in seductive red all through the evening at his dear friend’s party.

Even I want a husband who will make a lungi out of my chiffons, pair it with my abandoned blazers with shoulder-pads that went out of fashion in the ’80s, and saunter into a restaurant in my Mickey Mouse jammies and stun the world into a stupefied silence.

I am happy to report, dear reader, that love’s labour was not lost.

The other day, I saw my husband staring lustily at my shapeless smock that I had picked off a patri in Colaba. Just as I was getting ready to blush furiously, I noticed a strange thing. His fingers that were snaking towards me stopped to feel the softness of the fabric instead. My ears perked with utter joy when I heard him murmuring, “Gosh, this feels so good!” His eyes were closed in ecstacy.

Give it to me, he glowered menacingly. I want to slip into this gorgeousness and feel it brush against my parched skin.

Yippee! I didn’t even have to fast for 13 consecutive Fridays for this magical moment to happen.  

But I will know my “grooming Mr Ray” mission is a stupendous success when I see him slide on my sheer stockings over his head and turn it into a stunning headgear.

DeepVeer, you’d better watch out.