41 – “I’m Leaving You”

December 2001

We’re in India with my in-laws and a big group of relatives and friends. We’ve come to visit some Jain temples and see the facilities funded by the charitable trust that my father-in-law is the head of.

This whole trip, I haven’t felt like myself. I feel disconnected, numb. I’ve been feeling like this for a while before this trip too.

Jai is here with us. He’s being lovingly pampered and taken care of by my in-laws.  As Veer is only five months old, he’s in London being cared for by my mother.

It means Maanav and I are finally alone together. It means I can find some time to have a frank discussion with him.

It’s the night before we fly back home to London and we’re at dinner in one of the restaurants of the hotel we’re staying at in Mumbai.

Maanav and I sit across the table from each other.  

Somewhere through the middle of our main course, I hear myself say the words, “I’m leaving you.”

I hear the words come out of my mouth, yet I’m not sure if I entirely mean them. I feel like I’m acting out a scene in a movie.  “I need space to clear my head,” I continue, though I’m not even sure I know what that means.

As I write this, I wonder if the indifference I felt was the effect of the Prozac or that my mind had finally had enough and simply couldn’t cope anymore. The point of breaking. At the time, I assumed antidepressants would make me feel good and happy. But I went from feeling extremely depressed and frustrated and crying all the time to feeling numb and detached. I also don’t remember much of the trip, where we went or what we did in India. And the way I felt when I met Maanav and got married, the passion, the love, the way I felt when I first held my babies, seemed like a distant memory. My heart was vacant. Love seemed to have deserted me, or it had been shut in a box and buried deep in the ground. I still don’t know exactly why, if it was all the trauma, the hormones, the Prozac, or a culmination of everything. I guess I never will know for sure and I have made peace with it.

“When we get back to London, I’m not coming home with you.”

Maanav’s reaction is surprisingly calm. He doesn’t fight my decision. I’m wondering if I expected him to fight for me. I think I’m glad he doesn’t.

The same evening, when we go to his parents’ hotel room to say goodnight to Jai. We tell them that we’ve decided to separate. Everyone is very understanding about it.

Before I told Maanav I was leaving, I had to figure out where I was going to go. I didn’t want to go back home with him, and I couldn’t go back to living with my parents; I needed to be as far away as possible from my father.

I called Milli and Abhay from the hotel room and let them know what was happening. Both felt sad for me. They heard me out and understood. They knew how I’d been feeling for a while now.

Milli said I could go and stay with her. She’s in student housing in Buckinghamshire. I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come: leaving my family, my husband, my 3-year-old child, five-month-old baby, and our nine-bedroom, five-bathroom home on a private estate backing onto a golf course, for, potentially, a mattress or sleeping bag on the floor of a student house in High Wycombe. It doesn’t faze me. It feels like I have no other choice right now.

We say our goodbyes to everyone. The mood is sombre but not hostile until…

…we’re in the lobby, checking out of the hotel and Maanav sees the phone calls printed on the hotel bill. He recognises Abhay’s phone number.

Maanav is convinced I’m having an affair with Abhay. He tells his parents. Nobody believes me.

The shit hits the fan. I meet the real ‘Angry Maanav’ for the first time. It’s not pleasant. I feel sick to my stomach.

The next thing I remember, I’m back in England, I’ve had a few drinks and I’m settling down for the night in a sleeping bag on a mattress on the floor of the front room of Milli’s shared student house in High Wycombe. Milli and her housemates are all asleep upstairs.

I don’t remember the plane ride back from India. I don’t remember saying bye to Maanav and Jai. I know I didn’t go into the house, not even to pick up some clothes or unpack my suitcase. I took it as it was and drove straight to Milli’s. Maanav went alone to pick up Veer from my mum’s house. He had to break the news to her. I didn’t call her. I think Jai travelled back to London a few days later with my in-laws. I don’t remember. This may have been one of the most painful days of my life. I simply can’t remember it. I may have blocked it out. Just as I did the memories of the paedophile and his house. My mind probably couldn’t handle reliving those memories.

So here I find myself, curling up in a sleeping bag, my life turned upside down once more. No family, no money, no home, no job, no education beyond a few GCSEs. 

But I  have my Milli. Milli, my one friend who’s known me since I was four years old, who gives me a place to sleep and food to eat, and hope, that one day, everything will be alright. I mean, it has to, doesn’t it? What’s the alternative?