Circle of Trust – The Black Swan

 

Meeting him once again, was like a distasteful comic relief in the middle of a Greek Tragedy.

 

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

 

I was very happy staying married to Kabir until I saw me reflected naked in his eyes – stripped off the conviviality and the layers of golden dust.

 

I was very happy living my perfect life – urbane, rich and comfortable – my job that shone like a diamond pin studded to my collar - and the weekend social gatherings where my well dressed, highly occupied and sometimes perfectly boring friends talked in respectably loud voices, clinked china while their delicate manicured fingers grasped the stem of their champagne flute – alcohol flowing freely, interrupted by banal, mind numbing corporate jibes – ineffectual conversations as my mind drifted in and out of the closed spaces, wandering around in the open and then returning back to the cloistered confines to be lost in the drone again.

 

But I had a perfect life. It was plain for anyone to see.

 

 

When I married Kabir I knew I was doing the right thing. Most importantly, my family was sure that I was taking the most important step of my life only after having secured a shiny Business School degree, carefully tucked in my kitty – promising to make my life a dreamy fairy tale with all the trappings of a rich and powerful Prince coming and whisking me off to his palace of riches and comfort where I could strut bare feet on plush carpets – without ever having to put my feet back on the ground again.

 

And I knew for a fact that I didn’t make a wrong choice. I was in awe of Kabir.

 

Until – I stood face to face with the me I was in awe of once.

 

 

It was just another day in the life of the household of the constantly busy. Kabir frantically messaging me from his blackberry – he had another meeting lined up in fifteen minutes – a corporate emergency of sorts – a fatality where the only victim was the love we didn’t share, or the little sparks, dying embers of attraction that held our sanity in place.

 

But then it was just a movie-dinner date. Nothing much when compared to the acquisition deals that my husband chaired – cracking his knuckles while he decided the fate of balance sheets that went through a three sixty degree turnaround when he caressed then with finesse.

 

When Kabir was good, he was good. When Kabir was really good, he was heartless.

 

But it wasn’t something that had me worried. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

In fact I think his phenomenal professional success was the chord that kept up both bound together – his winnings and mine – a huge menacing mountain of success where we both were perched, albeit precariously – each holed up in their own illusory fantasy of all’s well – never attempting look to down below – what dangerous feelings of disquiet roared silently on the downside.

 

Never acknowledging them – never attempting to look deep enough, inside.

 

‘I don’t do superficial baby…’

 

So I wasn’t miffed – at all. It was just a dinner date, a late movie. I could do it all on my own. I was way too independent to be needy – least of all for my husband’s attention. I messaged him back that it was okay – that I would do just fine but that I did regret our time together, lost – but then tomorrow was another day. I told him that I was off on my own. I love you, I added.

 

He messaged back, ‘Yea, love you back. Take care, have fun, stay warm. Miss me.’

 

I smiled as I deleted the message. I was getting more compulsive day by day. Couldn’t stand my inbox filled with read messages – useless – my wardrobe full of clothes – unworn – my life filled with questions – unanswered.

 

I was on a cleaning spree – cleaning up my closet and rankling the sleeping ghosts.

 

I could have simply called up one of my girlfriends and have them come along – they could always use a dinner date to pour out their secret miseries over few shots of vodka and drain out their unspoken oddities in the theatre – amidst the drone of strangers playing lovers, chasing falsified, picture perfect destinies.

 

But maybe I was just too lazy, or that I wanted to be with myself. Either way, I set off alone.

 

We all begin with good intent
When love is raw and young
We believe that we can change ourselves
The past can be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything I've held so dear

 

 

 

I didn’t see him – until he was too close, for comfort – or even to ignore and to look the other way.

 

I was stunned into nervousness – the same buoyant feeling of euphoria when you stand face to face with hard bitter truth that you could never wholly embrace – even when you wanted to climb all over it and have it hold you carefully in it’s arms and make you its own.

 

‘Hey,’ I said, ‘you haven’t changed.’

 

There was no way to break his still gaze but, to have him talk. No way would he say, anything – I knew, instinctively. He could have let me walk off – scot-free – without saying a word – just having his eyes – what was it that I used to call them – scorpion eyes – burning holes into my back – but I wasn’t leaving, not yet. And I wasn’t letting him stare me down into a nervous wreck.

 

‘You haven’t changed at all,’ I said, now slowly regaining composure. This wasn’t that bad – at all.

 

He walked up a little closer to me, placid face but eyes mocking, or were they?

 

‘But you have changed, I can see that.’

 

I smiled uncomfortably. I wasn’t up for this – not now – not ever. Maybe I should have just turned around on my heels and left. To hell with the movie and the dinner – and him.

 

He was history. Been that a long time anyway.

 

But something willed me into staying – and I knew what it was – even I wasn’t naïve enough to know that one couldn’t keep away from the flame. Even if one chose not be the moth a long time ago.

 

‘You’re still as bitter,’ I said, half mocking, half admiring.

 

‘You’re still as sweet,’ he almost spat.

 

‘We could talk like two grown up, sensible adults you know,’ I offered, ‘dinner’s on me, and a movie after that if you could use one.’

 

He didn’t say a word as he settled right opposite to me – on a dinner date where there won’t be much eating anyway.

 

‘You look good,’ I said, ‘looks like you have done well for yourself.’

 

He smiled. I knew he was going to bite. Maybe I still had a little bit of me left in me to want to be bitten, for old time’s sake.

 

‘Yea. Unlike you. Yes’ He said, not paying attention to me – his eyes wandering all around and drinking in the dazzling ambience of the restaurant.

 

If I hadn’t known him for him – I’d have been outraged. No one calls a successful, independent woman like me a failure. But maybe I no longer wanted assurance from him – mostly because I was self assured.

 

I smiled.

 

‘Good,’ I said, ‘so what is that you do? I bet it must be something as engrossing as playing guitar and wooing scared women, is it?’

 

He leaned closer to me, smiling, ‘Actually yes – you’re sometimes right. I do that. Write music, direct it – sometimes sing it also. Sounds good doesn’t it?’

 

I’d stopped smiling – he was staring too hard. Maybe it was the flicker of the candles that stood like a world of difference between us but I was beginning to struggle to breathe.

 

‘Nice. You’re doing what you wanted to do, yea? I’m happy for you.’ I said and I looked away.

 

‘Yeah. I did what I wanted to do – well, unlike you. Cant say I am as happy for you.’ He said, dead panned as he suddenly shrank away from me as he rested his back on the plush red chair.

 

 

It was a moment of total disconnect – from the flicker of the candle lights, to the dull phantasmagoric ambience of the place we were at – maybe he was sitting too close – or maybe he was talking too fast – too slow – too honest.

 

‘I’m leaving,’ I said suddenly as I began to rise. I didn’t deserve this – this impalement at the hands of this very cruel man who had once, as a boy, torn my insides into shred and filled them with his haunting music.

 

‘Sit down,’ he said quietly – his eyes still staring hard at me but I could sense a deep, silent longing – withered – peep from behind the disdain that filled them.

 

‘Sit down – please,’ he said, once more.

 

I knew right then I was making a mistake – once again.

 

I sat down but I didn’t look at him – I motioned him to order food and he ordered - all the right things. I know for a fact that preferences change over the years – mine did – but instincts don’t. Maybe he just wildly guessed – but I was still interested in the instincts that drove the wild guess.

 

‘Tell me about you – anything.’ I said, now slowly getting a hold over the turn of events – a sort of languid ecstasy washing over me – I was feeling light – like I was on to something.

 

‘You’re the one who used to do all the talking, remember?’ he said, smiling. Maybe the ecstasy was rubbing off on him – he was benign, well almost.

 

‘We turn the tables.’ I said, now laughing – almost.

 

‘I’m not too sure if you want that. That’s not you.’ He replied confidently.

 

I was struck quiet for a moment – the old hysteria, the one which kept me closer to the edge than ever before – I knew it began to surface – the rowdy, casual abandon, the big plans – the zest and the madness – it all was staring back at me, from within me – so much within my reach now.

 

‘Actually yes,’ I said, now smiling, ‘I know for a fact that I don’t want that. I talk. That’s my talent.’

 

‘Now, I see her,’ he said as he gave me the lower-lip curled smile once more – All I could see was his incisors smiling cutely back at me.

 

Everything else faded in a blur.

 

 

I talked his head off. That was my talent. And he was as patient as ever. That was his.

 

I told him about my life – all the things I did – and all the things I didn’t do. I told him about Kabir and his overbearing business skills – I told him about our life – the plans we made and our hopes – the dreams that came crashing down for me and about the flecks of gilded dust that settled on my wings as I grew into corporate circle myself.

 

And he listened. With his hands folded neatly across his chest – and his eyes never leaving mine – no, my eyes didn’t wander anymore – that much I had learnt well.

 

We looked and I talked – and everything was perfect – for me.

 

‘I think you should catch that movie with me after all, for old times’ sake, yea?’ I said, my eyes laughing.

 

‘Hmm…’ he looked thoughtful. He waited.

 

I knew now so much that I wasn’t going to get anything out of him if I pushed.

 

I leant that the hard way.

 

 

He then looked up at me suddenly, scorpion eyes talking – he said, ‘Are you up for some danger? Or are you still mutton? Let me sing you a song – some lonely place?’

 

I stared at his face – the whole of it – daring eyes, half parted lips, a little wild smile playing.

 

‘The movie is a goner then, yea?’ I said.

 

‘That’s not my answer.’ He softly whispered.

 

‘But then you know your answer,’ I whispered back, softly.

 

 

He rose up as I signaled for the bill – it was on me, the dinner – nothing changes that.

 

He looked as I signed the cheque. And then I looked back. His finger uncurled as his hand reached out for mine, he said, ‘Black Swan, lets make some beautiful music. Are you scared?’

 

‘Not as long as I am in your circle of trust,’ I answered as I followed him to wherever he took me.

 

 

 

 

I don’t know if I should have let him talk me into accompanying him that day. I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do.

 

Or maybe, that was the only right thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.

 

I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come 'round here
And tell me I told you so