Because she could have it all to herself.
Because she could allow every random thought in.
Because she could carelessly go through her greying hair without drawing a chuckle.
Because she could slip her hands inside her blouse without thinking about anyone looking.
These were the very qualities she had liked him for,years ago.
He was egoistic,highly opinionated,judgmental.
Much like herself.
Only a little more aggressive.
But after two decades of togetherness,she feels tired.
Tired of all these so-called intellectual qualities that had driven her towards him back then.
The constant criticism,the fixed gaze,the nonchalant belittling,
she is too old for all these.
She is sick of always trying to live up to his expectations.
One of the less bright sides of being married to a moody poet,she thought.
One of the less bright sides of being married to an ideological naxal leader,she thought.
One of the less bright sides of everything going off perfectly in the earlier years of one's life,she thought.
Yes,she thinks a lot these days and he won't have approved of all the topics.
Oh,how she envied those shallow friends of hers now!
Happily married,with kids and Sunday eat-outs and watching family soaps together...
Their post-marital sex was definitely less passionate,less heated,less of a constant argument between two very individualistic intellectuals.
They definitely didn't burst into Joyce while walking down the hide-and-seek of Russell Street.
But they were happy(and they still are).
They didn't have to put up with the disappointment of their husbands at being one of the 'husbands'.
Two minutes and thirty seconds.
That's exactly how long it takes.
Timing is crucial.
Otherwise,the tea will taste too strong and bitter,much like her life.
And she didn't need any reminders.
She was too careful.
A few more minutes of leisure.
A leisure she could still allow herself.
And then,with the 'swoop' of the last sip,
she'll be back to her life.
A life she has chosen for herself,much to others' dismay,
and her own will.
A life of supporting a failed genius lifelong.
A life of bearing the frustration of the failure she had played no part in,to begin with.
A life of always feeling 'not good enough'.
A life of silent,choked tears.
A life of the busiest Chartered Accountant in the city.
P.S.This post is inspired from Fantabulous February-day twenty seven by Kanika on her blog Sensitive Chaos. Two more days to go! I can't believe it! *Tears and sobs*
I already feel orphaned. And the icing on the cake? My exams are starting from 2nd March.So,that ensures that I've ALL THE TIME in the day to write my Fantabulous February posts. But Fantabulous February SHALL GET a grand farewell,it SURE SHALL. I'll see to it.