Whatever I thought of leaving the monastery, I did not expect the severity of the conflicts.
It was obvious I could not continue on with the studies.
After I left, I met one of the students who told me lessons were no longer fun.
It was dry and serious without my presence there.
It felt good hearing that.
There was the restlessness also.
Crossing the roads in the big city often felt suicidal to me.
I usually sought safety in numbers.
But increasingly I started taking chances crossing the road.
The restlessness was such, anything, even an accident,
enforcing me to be tied down, seemed a better option.
However, I never met with an accident.
The big city having served its purpose, I headed home.
Things were a little better being home.
My mother had a matchmaker going.
Because I was close to thirty, and the man was not interested in meeting with me.
“If you had met me, you would have changed your mind,” I thought, amused.
He declined because late thirties meant I might have problems conceiving, a big issue for the man.
A friend of the monastery gave me the photo and address of a pen pal of her friend.
Her friend was not interested in going to America.
She thought I might be.
Two months of correspondence and George suggested I fly to meet with him.
He was teaching school and was not able to leave.
Again, I knew how to go about it.
I had frequented a shopping complex and a woman caught my eye.
It was a travel agency, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
I went to her.
Within two weeks, she had my visa and air ticket ready.
Again, I took my leave of home.
I had been a burden on my parents.
They thought I was taken care of at the monastery,
Only to have me back, without any qualifications to find work and support myself.
I was trained to meditate only,
And too old to find a match.
While they were vastly relieved to see me take off.
For me, it was a door opening and I took it.
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