Proficiency in Failure

Kabir throws a tantrum over a point in the discussion which has come to be attributed as failure.

“Why do you have to think about a career in your damn forties?” he demanded an answer as if I was the lowest ranking employee in his company.

“You are right. I do not need a sense of purpose at all. All I need is to be a good mother, a wife, and if I spare time from playing more roles, then a good woman, which again is vastly driven by what a good woman consists of.” Moira shot back.

“Let us not get into that discussion. You have everything, Moira. And even if you are in want of anything, I am at your service. I have been there for you, haven’t I?” his brown eyes expressed concern.

“Kabir, there is something invisible to your mind, however your heart knows the truth. You have been here for me, and I appreciate it. But did I get a chance to be there for myself?”

Kabir takes a minute to process the intensity of emotions that have been veiled by Moira for over two decades, and departure seems the best decision to him.

*

Moira, a postgraduate in Creative Writing, was admitted into the course of marriage, and later into a family of two children. She got married at twenty-two, and remains for almost the same duration. All credit should be deposited to her culture, where she was taught to say yes to authority.

There are repercussions for each yes and no, and she did not dare to see of the latter.

Why Moira wishes to pursue a literary career in her forties is unfathomable to Kabir.

What does she have to display on her resume? The responsibilities of raising a family will not land her a job, neither having read an impressive number of books.

Being raised in a family, where her mother was seldom allowed to express or have an opinion over anything, he swore to treat his wife differently. Early childhood experiences gave him a clear picture of what he does not want, and made every attempt to match his actions to this thought process. 

Since the beginning of their marriage, Kabir displayed enormous respect for Moira. He was aware of an exceptional writer that Moira was, and each sacrifice she took upon her life to push the trolley of tradition forward.

But now he wonders where he had gone wrong?

He recollects those conversations where his father pressurized him to not grant so much liberty to her.

His father would insist: She is your wife, and yet she makes decisions about everything. Have you not learnt anything from me?

Kabir would sternly say: If I sit down to count the number of adjustments she has taken on, I would not be forgiven. Papa, you know she is an extraordinary writer and when does she get any time from being a woman to write?

After a while his father stopped, but now Kabir wonders whether his father had been right all along?

*

As per societal expectations, Moira and Kabir were welcomed as an ideal couple, and their beautiful boys only enhanced their marriage.

When Moira announced she was not happy, Kabir started to have multiple discussions to know the core of her unhappiness.

Kabir thought of expressing his arguments with his father about Moira so she could better understand how difficult it was to converse with a lineage of patriarchal philosophy, and why she should reconsider her decision.

“Did anyone say anything to you about being a housewife?” Kabir started his interrogation again.

“Why do you think I have to be prompted by an external incident to resume my career? Is it the age or responsibility that you want to talk about, Kabir?” she stood right in front of him to give him a fair chance.

“I have failed as a husband it seems.” He served the truth to her.

“Can you hear yourself?" Moira lowers her pitch to express the hopelessness. “For twenty years I have been putting on a wide smile to dodge this phase from our lives, and here you want to talk about your failure. You know what it means to have failed? I will tell you: Twenty-two seemed a perfect number to my parents, and the dream of being a writer took a backseat, not having fought for my dreams feels like one, not having written any concrete story despite declaring it to the world I have a Master’s degree in Creative Writing feels one, not having run away from this home because my children will lose a mother, and you will lose a wife feels like one, not having taken time to figure out who I am or I can be feels like one and many more things that I have forgotten over the years to preserve relationships. How dare you to make this about yourself, husband?

"Kabir my decision of going away does not pronounce your worth, it simply asks for mine. You have been a husband that any woman would dream of. I do not know when will you understand the position, I am in.” Moira sighed.

Kabir was rendered wordless. He saw it on her face: the regret of not having lived a life, and the compulsion to explain it to people before doing so.

He was afraid of one word which he tried to avoid: divorce.

After a halt to their conversation Moira spoke again, “Since the time I have told you about my inclination to work, we have been going on in circles. Just imagine if I had done so since the time we got married, if would have been an everyday chaos, just like my parents. I agree I wanted to have a family, and children and I will forever be grateful to our relationship, but it is time to dream a little more.”

“Moira, can I be honest with you?” Kabir was in tears to see their relationship claiming the status of divorce.

She nodded, but she knew this was another attempt to divert her.

“Does this indicate a divorce?” Kabir uttered that word.

Moira was stunned.

“Who gave you that idea? I have never spoken of divorce."

She went inside the immaculate bedroom, and snatched her journal.

Over the years, he had seen Moira scribble entries in her journal, and even attempted to peek, but resisted the urge, because Moira’s mind was too unique to have an invader.

April 22, 1989

I am extremely scared of what and how my beloved husband will react to my decision of going to London for a year to work as an editor. I have expressed my interest over the years, and he has been supportive, despite the patriarchal parenting his father imbibed on him. It is scary to leave everything behind where my sole job was to build it. Marriage is a funny relationship, where success is measured by duration rather than progression. While I seem so adamant on pursuing it on the exterior, my mental chatter is entirely opposite. As much as I want to leave this comfort zone, the beauty of the relationships that have made me laugh, and cry can be broken with a single decision, and Kabir whom I admire till today will take the blame over his shoulders. But I need a year. The question is whether he will be willing to bear the responsibility of two children, and give me the reward for having been with each other for twenty years?

I love the life I have now, there is no logical explanation to pursue anything that is uncertain, and our marriage will go through a trial. It's not the end, it is a pause, and I am a hundred percent sure about resuming it after a year. I want to know who I can be without the string of relationships that I have been assigned by society. I can promise you one thing: separation does not state divorce. Is it possible to let go of a person whom I have known and loved for majority of twenty years? A year will give me answers.

The entry was two months from now, and he mentally questioned the relevancy of her feelings.

She nodded to validate his thoughts.

*

A month later, Moira’s bags were packed with Kabir trying to support her decision and failing to bid a goodbye.

“You deserve this,” Kabir uttered three words that are not what a usual hero says.

Moira embraced him and their children, who barely understood her decision, yet managed to fight tears.

Kabir handed an envelope to her while maintaining loving eye contact with her.

The envelope read: It is time.

*

Moira resists the content of the letter until her arrival in London, rather she drowns herself in her journal entries which seem a million years away from what she is doing now.

The sense of comfort is snatched from her, the moment she arrives in a foreign land. To retain it, she finds her way to the envelope.

Dear Woman,

Our first meeting highlighted the brilliance you possess in the worldly perspectives, and your exceptional capability to write. Love, however turned itself into responsibilities, and you embraced it all. Since then, a thousand discussions have come and passed, and you strictly thought about using all years to play roles that you had taken birth for. However, past six months have changed you. Finally, I started to witness Moira, whom I had seen on initial days of our affair. At first, I was afraid at the thought of losing you. "What will people say, Kabir?" was the persistent question, and I attempted to brush it off by having conversations with you. Moira, the truth is I have seen what you are capable of, but the world has not. It is your chance to showcase your talent.  

Our society will not encourage a woman to resume her career, especially if it comes at the cost of relationships. As much as I feel inclined to fight this system, I belong to it. On the outside, I have supported you, but I am not able to cope with your departure. I have told my parents, it was my decision to leave you, because they cannot digest a woman leaving a man. It is a lie, and it is indeed your reward, Moira. Try living a repercussion of saying no, for once.

How funny is it that, we humans are granted a power to think a different conversation, and to present another (usually the acceptable one) around people. This letter does not resemble every conversation I have had in my mind, but I present the highlights to you, Writer.

I know one thing for sure: I will fail, a lot, and at plenty of things, but at least it will be an example to the boys that a man can try.

Regards,

Author Moira's Husband