The Blog & Me

This blog happened when life felt like it was falling apart, or atleast the known predictable parts of it. Moving out of a marriage, trying to correct my professional and personal life at the same time, rediscovering my strengths and correcting my weaknesses – they were turbulent times.

Till then I had been a ‘good girl’ by opting to get out of a marriage I had overnight turned into a monster. It didn’t matter that I had tried my best without a murmur of protest for close to three years. It didn’t matter that my then husband drank like a fish and nothing in the world would get him to stop and reconsider his drinking habits – neither pleadings nor threats.

I was the black girl who had brought ill name to the family by being the first ever to ask for a divorce. Its completely fine to keep having fights, walking out and then reconciling under pressure from family and friends again and again. But DIVORCE was not acceptable.

The letter I wrote to my uncle in an attempt to make him understand my situation was mailed back to my husband and he dangled it infront of my face to show me how little my family cared for me or my feelings.

Through all this my blog was my only release point. It was here that I came to vent my frustration and anger. Inorder to keep my sanity I had moved out of home to a PG and used to travel frequently on weekends to get some peace of mind….and honestly also to get away from this city where I used to feel accusing eyes on me all the time. The blog was my confidante whom I came back to and told my stories to, some real, some imagined.

Those travels helped kickstart a dormant imagination. And I started writing fiction, even had the pleasure to see a short story published in a magazine. Then I escaped to Bombay with a new job. A new city, unknown, non-judging people, the open sea close at hand. Anonymity. I loved it.

Meanwhile I had forged new friendships through the blog. People whose faces were unknown to me and yet I had seen glimpses of their soul through their blogs.

Life seemed livable. Even seemed to have possibilities.

I returned to Delhi only once the divorce came through. And the terror of the filthy phone calls had reduced.

Got married again, albeit hesitatingly. Set up home yet again and for a while life was the way it should be for any couple. We enjoyed each other’s company, went to art galleries, film screenings, events and cultural festivals. Travelled often. Escaped to the neighbouring hills whenever we had a bit of time and money.

Cooked and ate together, often from the same plate.

Then things started to change again. Duties, responsibilities and work started to take their toll. Now we no longer sit and sip coffee while planning or daydreaming our next trip out of town. We don’t make elaborate lists of must do’s and must haves.

We just divide the chores list and see who can do what. We don’t yet say it out loud but we probably also think that the other could have done a tad more and expected a tad less of us.
And life goes on rather trudges along.

And I am back on my blog trying to make sense of it all, trying to let some steam out in the hopes of being able to handle it all for a bit longer, a bit more.