Bewafaa

In the last few days, mom has been reminiscing a lot about her first love.

Perhaps it has something to do with dad being away on the road. Perhaps it’s the fact that when she looks in the mirror each morning, an exhausted, wan face peers back at her, making her feel older and less secure than she did the week before.

Or perhaps it was that carpe diem e-mail she received again recently, the one about life being too short to live on regrets. Whatever it is, mom is starting to have serious second thoughts about this marriage of convenience she consented to.

She was happy in the beginning. Her family was thrilled for her, and she vowed to make a clean start and give it all she had. There was little to complain about; others would have happily traded places with her: she was mistress of her domain and she was free to do as she pleased, within reasonable limits, of course.

Gradually, the euphoria faded, and a jaded resignation replaced the initial enthusiasm.

Mom realized that she was in the relationship solely for material purposes. Whatever emotions she had invested had long faded, like dust in the wind, and she now finds herself pacing like a caged lion, waiting for a suitable opportunity to break free.

As she watches people around her, mom wonders if she’s alone in this situation. Are the smiling, happy faces of her friends and co-workers, people she interacts with regularly, belying their sense of ennui and despondency? How do people find the strength to persevere in relationships when they know they’re dispensable?

And what of dad, who is an unwitting spectator in this drama? If he’s aware of mom’s conflicting loyalties, he masks his emotions behind a layer of detached stoicism. Not one to judge people or impose his opinion on others, he waits for mom to wrestle with her internal demons and make her own decisions.

Perhaps it’s time for her to leave before she’s shown the door. Mom feels she has invested enough of herself in this loveless association to walk away with her head held high.

Before she gets any older or bitter, before it's too late, she wants to return to her first love.

She is well aware that the adjustment will not be an easy one. She’ll have to adapt to the penury, the irregular lifestyle and the eccentricity that often accompanies creativity. But she might regain that sense of gratification that is missing in her present passionless union - that glorious, heady feeling of building hope in a heart, of bringing a warm smile to a face or an unbidden tear to an eye.

Mom is thinking of going back to journalism.