Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

Did I Set Myself Free?

Did I Set Myself Free?

5 mins 3.5K 5 mins 3.5K

Raunaq and I were happily married for more than a decade. We were the "it" couple. Our positive and romantic vibes made people go weak in the knees, whenever Raunaq let out his hand to pull me up during a rock climbing event or made sure that I was comfortable at his office parties. Usually husbands are busy, catching up with their office colleagues, at their office parties, however Raunaq was different. He made sure to refill my plate and my glass whenever we went to his office parties. He never hesitated to feed me before a crowd. On the other hand, my Instagram wall was full of poems about love and relationships. My dear husband inspired all these. People often asked me where I found such perfect metaphors. However, when you are in love, words tend to flow out from your heart to your lips to speak, down to your fingers to write.

Just when the world was beginning to believe that marriages last forever, our smooth sailing ship of love hit an iceberg in 2015. Things gradually began to change after Raunaq switched to a travelling job that took him places. The long distance fascinated us initially, but, it began to seem like a chore over the months. Although, I was busy with my job, spent enough time with my friends and explored various events in the city, there was something missing - a burning desire to be touched passionately. From sexting to sharing provocative pictures, our conversations had dwindled down to one liners - "Hey, did you eat?" "I'll be late today." Sleep well, sweetie" or just "Love, good night". I took all the effort to find out what was going on in his mind. This I did by travelling with him occasionally or taking him out for a drink.

But I could literally feel a strong resistance from his side. Maybe it was the financial stress of clearing the loans or the distance, but, over the months, there was a noticeable rift. Although he was home for a weekend or two every month, all he wanted to do was Netflix, sleep or go out for dinner with friends. When I was vocal about the loss of passion between us, he grew indignant. Earlier, when we stayed together, we sat together every Saturday morning and put together a weekend itinerary - a creative writing or Flamenco workshop, sweating it out at the gym, a trip to the flea market, morning breakfast at a Parsi restaurant, a stroll down Marine Drive - so many things. But it was as if Raunaq was possessed by slumber. He was no fun anymore. The romantic spark in our relationship had died down. My Instagram walls no longer carried romantic poems.

Finally, I began to make plans on my own. I made up business meetings and events. I did not want to make him feel that I am abandoning him, but, at the same time, I did not want vile away my time watching movies at home. At one such poetry writing class, I bumped into Srinath. Srinath and I were the best of friends in college. We shared everything from tiffins to talks. He assumed the role of my brother, my father and my boyfriend, too - whatever the situation called for. Our friends were certain we would end up together. However, I secretly yearned for someone more mature, successful and well settled. I got married and Srinath flew out to the UK to pursue a degree in sound engineering. That was it. Our relationship was cut short. After that, we met at the poetry writing class. We vowed to rekindle the old passion in our relationship.

As Sylvia Plath rightly said, "We always desire the things that destroy us in the end." Srinath and I began spending time with each other. He was in the city freelancing and we began eating dinner together. It felt very good to open my heart out to an old friend at the end of the day. On one such night, between bites of cheese and sips of wine, Srinath kissed me hard. I still cannot forget that kiss that made my chest swell, sent tremors down my spine and made me feel like some kind of sex goddess.

That night, I felt no guilt undressing before my best friend who loved me so dearly since college. He kissed every inch of my skin purely, passionately. He did not wolf me down as Raunaq always did. He savored me in such a manner that each cell of my body was brimming with life.

It was in the hazy, wee hours of the next morning that I gathered courage to knock down the beautiful castle I, along with my husband, built for 10 long years. In a long email to Raunaq. I penned down everything that had happened and hit Send. My idea wasn't to move in with Srinath. But, I could not possibly keep the truth within me. At the same time I could never promise my husband that this would not happen again. Surprisingly enough, after sending the email, I felt free. Emotionally, if not physically, many of us have committed adultery at some point. Thanks to social media, it is easier now to get in touch with our loved ones. Raunaq and his family disowned me for being an adulteress. But, I did not lose my peace even for a moment. I had grown so distant and lonely that it did not matter to me at all.

The only thing I knew was that I was free - back to my wild, limitless self. I did not have to be the desperate, unloved wife anymore. I was FREE. Or Was I?

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