Homecoming

The reflection of the half moon of summer glitters on the watery green fields . In the dusk twilight, I can see the orange-pink of the unending horizon from the aeroplane window , and the moon, and its moonlight on the ground at the same time, as my plane hovers over the Lahore airport, preparing to land.To this bewitching city I come back once again. In my efforts to keep my shattered life together, I shuttle between my workplace, Islamabad, and my home, Lahore. Here I was born, bred, married, had children, worked, divorced, buried my father and only brother, and here, whats left of my family, and my children, live. I have loved, lived laughed and cried in this city, and here i will be buried, as God wishes. So far so good. A life lived in pockets of priorities, career, family, love, self, aspirations, becomes fragmented and cyclical. One pocket at the cost of others keeps swelling, perhaps all of us live like this these days. Insulated from the people in my workplace, only exposed to office intrigue and petty minds and concerns, I feel myself wilting, deteriorating. My work used to be the most significant part of my life, because it enabled me to make a difference and help others. That sense is not there now, and I feel useless and uninspired, restless. Happiness in love cannot compensate for this. I do not feel alive. My ex spouse is getting married, as I always knew he would. That was the main reason for his insisting on a divorce, which was not surprising, since we never had anything in common. Even our friends could not find anything in common when they met each other at our home. But i did not like the whole vaudeville he created to enable himself to extricate himself from the marriage. Perhaps he knew that if he told his family the real reason he wanted out, because he was tired of living a lie, people would not accept it. So he created a justification, and postured to be a hapless husband who had to take care of his children, which was farthest from the truth as it could be, as when i worked, my mother took care of my kids and he just lounged around watching tv, making the occasional bottle of milk for the one year old. I would have respected him more if he had stated his reasons frankly and moved on. But then, in this hypocritical society, who can dare to speak out his real needs? And he could never bear to be unpopular or disliked. he always wanted approval, which made him such a coward. Well may he find happiness, Im happier to note that another of his lies about devoting his life to kids and never remarrying, stands exposed. I could never love him, because he was always a liar. Finally I will be freed from his blame games. The best things in my life are the kids. Beautiful, bright, doing well. confident and serious, but always bursting with joy and naughtiness. I hope they know the value of the good things in life, and know how to differentiate between whats right and wrong. One big thing going right in my life. Im lucky. The self is the last these days. It will bloom with inspiration, and love, the snippets that i receive of it from time to time, though they suffice for now. The tall bamboo trees in my home rustle in the wind, as the monsoon clouds come sweeping in on the unending horizon. Another season of fulfillment is coming on.