Whew!

In a little over or under two weeks, I will go to Delhi for a final hearing on my divorce. Although I have taken my time over all of this - the filing of divorce, thinking it through, piecing together all the good memories I had of my marriage so that it makes me feel less of a fool as time goes by - it still hurts. I am not sure if its the ego or the heart. But whatever it is, it's sure not meek around pain.

Some days later, a chapter of my life will end and in a way, I am looking forward to that. Much like one looks forward to one's menses even though you know its going to cause discomfort and pain. At least, dregs and residues of everything that's wasted will be gone from the system. I intend to one day be good friends with my ex. He is a fine, kind, and in parts, an incredibly noble person. However, I want us to be friends when I am sure of my motives - when I know I am strong and happy enough to handle it. Not when I am almost besotted with memories and moods and the lingering, sweet pain that loneliness brings. The prospect of healing, today, though is hard to bear. It's making me weary. Heavy-lidded and hunched. But somewhere deep down, I know that tiding over this phase will get me to a place that is free and peaceful. That knowing, though, is really buried deep. Right now the chasm seems to be filled with moments of panic when I'll wake up in the middle of the night or stumble upon baby clothes and not know what the searing ripping in the chest is. Or know exactly what it is.

I came across a book I'd bought many years ago. I'd copied a poem in it:

Young Apollo, golden haired,
Stands dreaming at the brink of strife,
Magnificently unprepared,
For the long littleness of life.
- Rupert Brooke

This book that I found today - the one that has the poem that captures my mood - I'd bought that book the day I met A - a man who is fine, kind, and in parts, incredibly noble.

Last few weeks

Here are a few things that have happened over the last few weeks.


A and I drove to Bhimashankar a couple of days ago. The trip seemed to have been written on the trills of a bird song. It was that perfect, carefree, sudden, and meant to be. The world was new and green. There were places where the road seemed unending and empty, yet ‘full’, somehow. You could sense thickets of mist, rain and travelers thoughts. You could imagine shrubs of hope, freedom, and travelers’ tales. And you could feel the mussed up dance to travelers’ music. Rain …it’s what the soul feels like.

A also bought me a pretty box of paint. I have wanted to paint glass for a while now. There isn’t any formal training or great skill. Except that some days I’ll shake an empty jar of coffee and imagine purple swans and a red moon on it. So, I’m really happy with the paint-box now. (They are lovely little tubes and when you squeeze them, thick lush color oozes out. My favorite is the cobalt blue.) This morning, as my cook made poha, I painted a few swirly lines on the border of a picture frame. Looks infantile but I like it.

Ma had earlier bought a few house plants and I’m taking care of them now. I haven’t exactly converted to gardening yet but I absolutely love watering plants in the morning. There’s a steel glass I use to water the plants. Sometimes I water them late at night too. Just as a way of finishing up the day, maybe checking in to see how the leafy friends are doing. One night, I had hunched over to pour a little extra water over a tulsi leaf that had turned the colour of desert. It was a very pretty leaf. As I watered it, I saw a small spot of shine on my foot. The moon was getting reflected off the glass and landed playfully in my balcony. When it glinted off my nails, I thought how lovely the word ‘Twinkletoes’ was.

As of now, the house is messy but after visits from the art muse and the moonbeam, it’s squelching with well-being.