The Time Has Come
- Ayn Rand
Perhaps it was after the school bell rang one scorching afternoon, sometime between the 28th or 29th of April this year, that I once again pressed the "sent" button - that could spin my life away into the unknown.
I resigned. Yet again.
It happened twice in the Philippines, twice in India and once in Norway, Sweden and Botswana. I'm a bit of a rolling stone, they say. I loath gathering moss.
This yet another unpopular choice however, is the most unique of all my series of adventurous detours. It is a winner of a gold medal called "The Most".
The most awaited..
The most feared..
The most celebrated..
The most misunderstood..
The most that required courage.
A leap of faith.
I have taken a 12 month sabbatical to paint my days and nights away to my heart's desire.
More than anything, this is a love story. It is like one of those romantic plots for lack of a mid life crisis, where a tender and gentle husband turns ferocious against the pack of cynics to defend his love's need to dance again outside the rusting wires of time.
When he was called in about my decision, he calmly replied "She wanted to do this for the longest time, and I support her choice."
Having reached home after that uneventful meeting, one life-changing afternoon, I had to bounce my doubts back and forth with him. I wanted to make sure he is ready for what awaits us all. The clothes drying in the living room under the buzzing dusty ceiling fan were the main witness.
"It will be your regret, not mine. Just do it." Rahul shrugged so casually, like it was a simple choice between a clear Chamomile and milk tea.
Where did this man come from? I wondered. All these years, nothing I do surprises him. He stood up and put the second batch of clothes in the washing machine.
The conversation was over.
Yesterday, he found me a new flat where it is safer for me to be alone the whole day, while he and our daughter are away at school. He got me a bigger space, with better lighting and more breeze for my painting.
When I told my 11-year old about the same news, she replied:
So what?
It was the same shrug her father had.
