You dragged the chair that lay in the corner of the porch and sat on it. Tiny beads of rain trickled down the palisade and birds sang their happy song. Sipping the coffee, you took a deep breath, letting the reality sink in. The steam from the coffee evaporated and vanished into thin air like it never existed. So did your relationship. It ended abruptly. In the blink of an eye, the world came crashing before you.
“Was it my fault?” you questioned yourself for the millionth time. The kitchen never attracted you. It wasn’t your domain. Cooking was never your forte. But he had got the facts straight prior to marriage. Didn’t he? He had assured you that it didn’t matter if you didn’t possess any culinary prowess. But the moment the mangalsutra found its place around your neck, everything underwent a sea change. You were expected to undergo a complete transformation. You wondered if you got married or had a change in your DNA sequencing?
You were expected to carry the baton efficiently. You tried to fit in the new role. Trust me. You tried hard. But your efforts weren’t appreciated. “My mother is the best cook,” was all you heard. No stone was left unturned in sending you on a guilt trip day in and day out. You tried to reason it out with the only person who you thought would understand you, but it was no avail. You shed silent tears. You resorted to making Maggi. Maggi thrice a day for seven days in a row.
Not that you loved eating Maggi. It was the only food for which you didn’t receive any brick backs. Suddenly, one morning you found an envelope on the bedside table. You opened the envelope and your hands trembled. The earth shook beneath you. It was a divorce notice. You felt weak in your legs and could no longer stand. The reason cited was your inability to cook. He decided to wash the dirty linen in public. Was he perfect? NO. He had a million deficiencies within him. But you never thought about ending the relationship. You weren’t a good cook, but you understood the sanctity of marriage. You tried to speak to him but he shut the door on your face.
You spent days crying and contemplating. Finally, after a week, you signed the papers. You embraced the rainbow after a stormy spell. Your phone chimed and broke your reverie. Your friends planned a girl trip to lift your spirits and you agreed to join them. The end of one relationship led to the beginning of an endearing relationship with yourself. You embraced your imperfect self and began to live your life all over again. It wasn’t easy but it had to be done anyway.