Duty calls. And for a man in olive green, it calls more often. There is unpredictability in every moment. Just as you were planning a dinner date for the weekend in your head, you might get a call from him asking you to pack up his stuff; he’d have to leave within the next two hours. Duty called.
You want to fight it, tell him you won’t let him go, but nothing works there. He’s got his priorities clear, and you know you vowed to respect them when you tied the knot. A couple of weeks of temporary duty or a few months long course, you know you’re going to count every second. Time is going to haunt you. The dinner table will get fewer visits. You’ll sulk. Barely move out of the house. Wait for a call or a message all day. Wish that you could tag along. Wish you had never received that call.
But wasn't it a part of the deal. You knew this would be a regular affair all your life. You wonder if you’ll ever get a hang of it. I've met women who do. I don’t want to be one of them, or maybe I do.
I think of the women from the previous generation, of our mothers and grandmothers.Communication was an effort, mobile communication, not even a part of their wildest imagination. Distance was that deal they had to live with. Or maybe telepathy worked for them!!Mine doesn't!
And as much you assure and reassure yourself to be his strength, to keep yourself as busy as possible, to wish that time flies and he’s back home before you know, when you’re finally retiring to bed at night and come back to an empty home, that vicious circle of hoping against hope resumes. After all, Dil to bacha hai ji !!