And then he left, leaving behind a haze filled with bewilderment. She was still in a trance, in a state of denial, it was like to have lived in your mother’s womb for about nine months, away from an undiscovered world full of misery, betrayal, lies and disillusion. When pulled out of his little world in amniotic sac, it takes a while for a child to breathe into the new world, to finally distinguish temporary from permanent, lie from reality and darkness from the light. It was what she felt, the agony of having exposed to the world she was skeptical existed.
But how come someone turn his back on tall claims of love, life and togetherness and change them altogether into abandonment? Who was she? Someone special like he made her believe or someone he has left her as [someone unworthy to fight for]? – It was a plain state of identity crisis.
What is love then if not giving up on your comfort zone? and accepting the challenges on your way towards the acquisition of ones object of desire? What is love then if not desiring someone to the point of no return? What is love then if not falling sick and handing away the ventilator into the authority of one person? What is love then if not declaring war against the transgressors of your heart’s desires?
She sometimes wonders, when few years down the line, during long winter nights, he would be sitting beside the fireplace with his family and children, maybe then while he would be narrating an incident to his family, she would cross his mind. If only for a moment, she will consume his mind. Will he shrug her off considering her a long-gone mistake, a youthful mistake unworthy of a mention?
She thought to herself, had Jinnah not stood up for the interests of Muslims in subcontinent, and had not worked tirelessly to achieve a dream called “impossible”, Pakistan have not been made.
She would finally know, it was not him. It was her. someone unworthy to fight for.