It took me a long time to get over her. I had promised myself that I would never ever see her face again and yet here I was, picking her up from the airport. All because of my daughter, who got tied up with an urgent task, at least from her perspective.
“Hi” I said to her with a wry smile on my face. “Hi, how are you?” She asked.
“I am fine.” I replied cutting the conversation short as I opened up my car and stuffed it up with her luggage.
I took charge of the wheel on driver’s seat and she sat next to me on passenger’s seat.
Two minutes en-route, I felt the urge to initiate a conversation with her. Perhaps I still loved her, I thought. Immediately my subconscious mind reminded me of the pain I went through during my separation with her. It reminded me how each night I would toss and turn alone in my bed cringing and imagining my ‘soon not be my’ wife cozying up in another man’s arms. A chill ran down my spine and I realized that perhaps it was not love but pity. For she, distanced herself from one man who at one point loved and adored her the most.
I became victim of depression. Self pity followed the suit as it’s the easiest form of feeling. I blamed myself for everything. I almost convinced myself that it was due to my lack of hard work (even though I worked 48 hrs in a week), luck, X factor that I didn’t have enough money to take care of my wife. I became frustrated and angry all the time but had nowhere to let it out. As I couldn’t take out or share my frustration with people, I started taking it out on Microsoft Word. I would lock in caps lock key, increase the font to 36, change the font colour to red and pound my keyboard hard with cuss words or whatever came into my mind. This turned out to be great therapy. On days where I would pound on my keyboard, I felt a bit relaxed with less weight on my shoulders.
One day accidentally, my colleague read one of these pounding sessions when I left my computer unattended and unlocked. He suggested that I had a good sense of writing and should think about writing a blog. A blog sounded interesting as I would at least get an opportunity to vent it out to a larger group, irrespective of the fact whether they would read it or not.
“How is life?” She broke my trance
“Fantastic. Couldn’t have been better.” I immediately responded and felt a little proud of my spontaneous answer.
“I hear that your book is being turned into a movie?” She asked another question.
“Yes, it’s a recent transition. We will reach in five minutes to ‘THE MALL’. I have to pick Shivi” I replied keeping the conversation short. Shivi is our daughter. She is 14 but unlike other teens, she is very sharp and mature. As we reached our destination, I saw my daughter coming out with her hands full of shopping bags accompanied by ‘my soon to be wife’.
I parked the car in front of them and my ex wife immediately got off passengers seat and my soon to be wife took the charge. My daughter sat behind beaming with a smile looking straight at me through the rear mirror. In the end it all turned out ok. I was about to get married again and the strangest thing about this strange journey is that it began with a word, well four actually “I WANT A DIVORCE.”
