A good day

 It was a good, happy day yesterday. Woke up with a feeling of just wanting to get out of the house. Was feeling trapped.

Went to my friend's place. She had done it up so well! Rangoli and fairy lights, sweets and her really trio of fish swimming about in a decorated fish bowl. They seem like babies - so cute they are. 

Had wanted to write about this yesterday but couldn't. I don't know...my heart still feels heavy and I still feel angry but...it will pass. 

I called up the sample guy I had written about earlier. I said I would share some links next week. He said that he didn't need it. He had googled me and checked out my writing. Said he'd come across my blog and the post. He asked me if I was not afraid that people would not give me work considering how 'open' I was there. I think he had read a few posts from really far back - I think when I had written about my divorce.

I can't say for sure but I think he may be having some problems with his partner. It's hard to say. I mean I couldn't make out when my own marriage was unraveling so it's rather rich for me to think that I can predict someone else's...especially three minutes after 'Hello'. 

Anyway, responding to his question on whether I lost work because of my blog...I didn't think so. I lost work because some people see me as 'too much'. So, I don't think they see me as too bad. Just not worth the trouble.

In my head, I had thought that if he followed up that thread of 'not being worth the trouble', then he was having problems in his marriage. The kind of problems where everything has started becoming stale. You can't recognise the person you wake up next to. You loathe the person you see in the mirror. Yet you hold on. You try to white-knuckle through the pain of what you are going through because the marriage was good. I am not talking about societal pressure or family disappointment or whatever. Just between you and your partner. It was good. When you were together, you knew you had found a solid friend. You knew you had a permanent shelter from the storm. 

And you want.that.back. I could relate. 

He asked me how I knew whether something was too much trouble...in my scheme of things. And I knew that we weren't talking about work anymore. But we both had to pretend that we were. 

I don't think I knew anything back then. Except that, I didn't make someone happy to be with me anymore. That's not easy. Actually, I feel that when you are in the thick of things, you don't realize that the other person is in pain too. That maybe he also felt tired for fighting for respect, maybe he also felt unworthy, or stretched or suffocated. That maybe there were shared screams of 'When will it be my turn?' You feel the exact same thing. It's the point when you don't realise it but you stop being each other's windows to a different world and you become each other's mirrors. You reflect back the same dense shadows of a loving sun that shone once but has set now. 

I just knew that after a point I had absolutely no clue how to make things work except that if I tried harder, maybe it would. I am sure he thought the same. But I suppose some of us are wiser to know that effort is actually doing more harm than good and it is unavoidable. Around that time I returned to Bombay from Delhi and I have no real memory of what I did around then. I know I started working. I remember staying away from family with some flatmates who were the bestest people in the world. And I know the solid, solid family support I got for what I was going through. And yes, I remember being angry. I mean, I don't think I have felt that kind of pain or anger ever. (Also it's not pain OR anger. Usually, pain IS anger.) If you were loyal and loving and were a good enough decent person, shouldn't you get a happily ever after? Apparently not. 

What made it even tougher was that I had been married to a very good man. A really good friend who had my head, my heart, my imagination, everything. And maybe that was too much for one person to be. I think when I love anything, an icecream or a person or a project, I tend to behave like a big dog in a small room. And if you aren't used to that kind of jumping, tail-wagging heft, I can imagine one being put off or scared. And he loved like a cat - quiet, will show affection in ways that need you to allow the creature to come up to you, can't be rushed, can't be forced. I think you need o allow time for that understanding to develop. And time means making something a priority for a while. And also allowing yourself to unlearn whatever you may have thought of what love looks like or what a good relationship looks like. And we don't make time for Time, do we?

I would never have ended anything until one day, it just suddenly started feeling like a lie...to continue this way.Not having the conversation, not deciding, not making up my mind. It started feeling plastic. That's when I sensed that maybe what I was feeling now is what he had started feeling a long time ago. And he was being nice about taking things to the finish line. Even so, I wouldn't have either. Again, just because I felt that love would sot everything out between two people who care for each other so much but had just lost the way. But no. I am obviously no expert on relationships. But I think that what I was considering love was attachment. What I was thinking of as commitment was clinging. These associations go way deep. To break out of that is to really splinter yourself and who likes that? 

One day I was having very dark and vengeful thoughts and was talking to my mom. She asked me how I thought any kind of relationship could even stand a chance of healing if there was so much poison. Then Ma said that you should never lose the ability to stay happy for someone else - no matter what the situation. She told me to leave if I had to but leave well. With some sense of peace. And after letting the anger run out. If I had to devolve into such pettiness, then maybe there was no love to begin with. I then argued with my mom and went off to Juhu beach. There's nothing like a soothing Bombay crowd to make you feel that it's all going on anyway. Stuff will move on and move away. 

I watched the sea. There was a big, juicy moon out. Children were playing. There were some chanaa-choor garam  people milling out. Thimble style cups of coffee being sold to accompany the channaa choor. It suddenly started to rain and it was glorious. Just suddenly. 

November rain. 

I walked into the sea looking around to check for cops. It had started pouring now and some people and kids had run towards the pav bhaaji and gola stalls to get away from the rain. And some of us didn't. I was wading across the water and some kids were laughing and running about. Some couples were holding hands and getting cosy. There were quite a few of us out there. I realized that I love storms. I always have. Maybe it really was time to leave the shelter. Maybe the shelter didn't want to be a spot for those running away from the storm either. Maybe it wanted to be a solid home and library for stable cat-like folks. 

I felt a lot of peace then And very strong and very decisive. I don't claim that what followed was easy emotionally at all. It was two steps forward and five steps back. And then there nowhere to go. But that night, I came home and decided that it was time. I had loved and married a good man who, for whatever period of time, had loved me back. And as Marquez said, "No one can take away the dances you already had." 

When you have to leave someone you love, it's not 'goodbye'. It's 'thank you'. That makes it easier.

(And after sharing all this, I sensed that the guy really didn't want to know anything other than whether I could engage on a weekly basis or was I looking for full-time employment. Oh well, you live. You learn. You forget.)