As an army wife, a new one at that, I tend to still struggle with getting used to the constant change and new surroundings. For someone who craved stability yet adventure, this sort of gypsy life seemed interesting yet a tad bit tedious too. But, without the cons how would we identify the pros, right?
A couple of weeks ago my husband, a Major in the Indian army was nominated to go on a UN mission to the Syrian-Israeli border. Unknown to most of you, the Indian Government does send Indian army officers on various UN sensitive missions, all around the world. I guess that's India being at it's diplomatic best, to some extent.
When he broke the news to me, ironically on his 33rd birthday (in December last year), I took it in calmly. I was in Bombay at the time, visiting friends, family, my old life. Maybe that's why the sudden impact of it didn't hit me quite as hard.
Siddhartha always expressed a keen desire to go on a UN mission. The greatest drawback of marrying an army man is their intense love for all things potentially dangerous and extreme. He always has claimed that paper work and desk jobs are not his thing. Give him his tanks and gun sack and he'll be more than content with life.
At first I was happy because it's what he always wanted. I mean, what is the point of being in a relationship if you can't let your partner grow? Or just simply do the things they'd rather?
If he was happy, who was I to take it away?
Between December and today we spent a lot of time apart because he had to constantly travel to get things in order for this mission. We hardly got time to really talk about the next step. Which was, leaving each other, to live alone for the entire duration of the mission - which is a little over a year starting anytime now.
I got so involved in work that I didn't realize how quickly time just flew right past me. Until today. Until this moment.
I chanced upon a news article in a famous French journal :
http://www.lemonde.fr/proche-orient/article/2013/02/24/le-photographe-francais-blesse-en-syrie-a-succombe-a-ses-blessures_1837952_3218.html
It's about a young French photo journalist who recently passed away after being severely wounded while covering the Syrian conflict.
They say, it takes a sudden jolt or event to make you realize that you were unconsciously fighting something within you to begin with.
Siddhartha and I have our good times and great times. In the middle of it we definitely do have our bad times too. But today, after all these weeks of getting used to the idea of him not being around I realized how hard it all is going to be when he finally does leave.
He is my husband after all. We may not have a Romeo-Juliet kind of love story, but we do have something. Why else did we get married. Relationships are not about perfection or striving for it. Maybe that's where we start making the mistake.
Attachments happen, over time. At some point of time we all get attached to small things, certain people, maybe even an idea. It becomes a part of us.
Tomorrow, or the day after or when he finally gets the order to leave for the Syrian-Israeli border, will I be happy? I don't know. I can't tell. We've spent every waking moment of the last 3 years together and the time before that getting to know each other. However, I do believe that you can never really get to know someone. We all change with time, with experience. With life.
At the end of the day, if I think about it, I sadly realize that it is not about getting used to him not being around as much as it is about his safety. The current situation in Syria is far from stable. And when you are legally bound to someone who wakes up so far away from you, it can take every emotion away from within you. Wouldn't you think? It's more about knowing everything is going to be alright, which in this life we can never be sure of.
As the one whose left behind, I can only hold onto the thought of hope.
It doesn't matter if ours is not a Romeo-Juliet kind of love story. There's still something there after all.
Goodbyes were never supposed to be the best part of anybody's life.
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