Chapter  9, Pt 4 of 4


You were quite different, I said to myself, when you landed on these shores thirteen years ago. A typically Indian girl, wearing a maroon coloured sari. You had long hair, which was swept away from your rather thin, sallow face, and arranged in a bun at the back. You wore rimless glasses and a friendly smile all the time.

You were introspective and often absent-minded, had rather a dull memory and could not think clearly or act promptly, yet in spite of all this, you were the optimist to the extreme. You had an unshakeable faith in God, and believed the world as being one large family.

And apparently you have changed a lot. You now have bobbed wavy hair and wear Western dress most of the time (though you are taking saris only to India). You walk with a superior air and take longer steps. You are not so thin and lean as before and you use make-up. You speak English fluently.

You are more of an extrovert now. You can think clearly though you still have spasms of muddle-headedness. You are much more alert and act promptly most of the time. Your complexes, both inferior and superior, have almost disappeared. Unfortunately, you are not so much devoted to prayers as before, but you still have strong faith in God, and your optimism.

Yes, there was no doubt that the past thirteen years had altered me in many ways. The great comfort in my heart was in the fact that the relationship between Sheel and myself had never been better. I was no more a submissive and almost a worshipping Indian wife. Now I was an equal partner, confident of my individual opinion and actions, Sheel and I had overcome the biggest crisis of our married life, the crisis, which was brought about through my own fault just before the war. That could have easily impaired our sacred union permanently, but with the enormous patience and sense of duty and of course the good fortune, we had come through that dangerous corner triumphantly. Knowing all that. I thought this was the best time to be parted from him for a few months.

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