For now, it seems that my marriage of five months is over. I head back to Mumbai tonight. I do and do not know whether it was my fault. I also do and do not know what went wrong.
This knowing-unknowing is the very worst part of heartbreak.
It is unfortunate that I did not get to celebrate my first anniversary in poetic, tingly Delhi winter. And that my marriage ended just when the clouds got lyrical and gauzy.
But there are many things I learnt in and from Delhi. And most times, when I say, Delhi, I mean my soon-to-be-ex-husband.
I learnt to drive. Maybe a couple more failed marriages and I will learn to park and reverse and then I’ll be set for life.
I learnt to marvel at the intrepid guts of workers who trudge along in heat. The perspicacity is humbling.
I learnt to steel my fragile ego from the withering looks of auto-people.
I learnt the shayraana of clouds against ruins.
I learnt to love simple generosities of simple folk in a Noida bus.
I learnt that I embody the bard’s pithy truism - that I love too much but not too well.
I learnt that intuition is not necessarily gas in the tummy.
I learnt that when the promise of the mountain tops fade away, the aegis of the sea beckons.
I hope Bombay wants me back.