Chapter 4

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Part 4: A Secret Turning in us - Section A

Birdsong brings relief

to my longing,

I am just as ecstatic as they are,

but with no lover to share it with,

Could I whisper in your ear,

What I've dreamed of? 

You're the only one I've told this to..

Don't ask how...

The beauty of guilt is that it washes over you, over and over, like waves of an ocean on a stormy night capsizing a boat desperately trying to make it's way to the shore after reviving from the assault. The shore always seem to be far from sight, no matter how hard the boatman tries, for the waves are unrelenting in their torment. Her sad but pretty face almost in sight when a tidal sweeps over my boat.

I wake up in sweat. It's that dream again. I cannot call it a nightmare, for she is present in it, albeit like a mirage, seemingly waiting for me to get to the shore and hold her hand once again, to pick up the pieces one more time and fix it. But I cannot make it, not even in my dreams. 

It seems as if eons have passed since I last saw her on the dreadful night when she left my sight and walked into the darkness, never to be found by anyone near and dear. I met her parents, who were in fact her in laws. How did I not know that she was widowed? I met her brother and I met her college friends. They either did not know where she was or did not wish to tell me. I've never been alive since I gauged the extent of the damage I caused to the only woman I loved with my soul, if only the heart could accept it before it was too late. 

I work and I drink myself to sleep. The unconcerned world gush over my progress, but I am not alive. Can anyone smell the decay? My heart screams out in silence, but there is not a soul who will hear sounds from a broken flute. Memories from the first time I met her to the last time I saw plays in my head all day until I lose consciousness and fall asleep. But she meets me there too.  

I can only hope that my love is strong enough to take me to her, an eternal wait. She has become the master of my soul, and I, her follower. Peace has left me, yet she lives in my heart as a soothing balm to the deep cuts I inflicted upon myself. I do not expect to forgive me. How can I beg for her forgiveness when I can never forgive myself? 

Yet a silent hope lives in my heart, to see the day when I can tell her how much I love her, of reverence and oblation. 

I have phrases and whole pages memorized, 

but nothing can be told of love,

I must wait until you and I meet once again,

In the conversation we'll have then...

But, patience. 

************************************************************************

Beyond opinion and judgment, undistracted by worries,

I am walking strong and steadily,

not timid or uncertain,

I feel now in myself,

free of fear, then why?

Your memories pull me back,

You promised you wouldn't come to my dreams,

then you broke that vow,

and I hear you crying out my name,

from a stormy ocean,

then you keep that vow, and you're gone.

I feel alive, more than ever. A new city, new people and a new identity, no longer bound by the chains of my past. No longer bound by the broken strings of failed relationships. The pain, I turned into my medicine and drank all the bitterness to churn out sweetness and chime. The memories, good and bad, have faded slightly after consuming my life for over two years. Love tries to knock at my door several times, some calls to which I've responded. I smile away, listening to the nothings uttered by those who claim to be my suitors. I put up with the sham of it all. My soul knows it's loved already, and my heart died the day I left him sprawled on the cold floor. 

He's doing well, I know. I try to stay away but he's always found a way to find his way into my life, albeit indirectly. His new collection of jewelry is making headlines here in New York. The women won't stop gushing over the designs. Rumor has it, he designed it personally, apparently for a secret lover. The rumors don't cease to be. Some say that he's nursing a broken heart, for he has not been seen in public with any woman for over two years. Some say that he is unlovable. Tabloids insinuate that he prefers a different orientation. Gossip columns splash news of his disoriented being, reporting it as "A man no woman would want to put up with". The buzz around him has always been unavoidable in spite of trying to keep away from it all. I have learnt how to deal with the inevitable. 

"Look at my engagement ring" Sandra throw me off, almost screaming in my ear.

"Calm down. And congratulations. I am glad he has offered you his companionship, it's all you ever wanted" I say

"Yes, but look at my ring!" 

Damn, why do women obsess over futile items like rings and jewelry. I have never been fond of all this glamor. 

"Okay let me have a look at it"

What I see takes my breath away. I've never seen such a beautiful ring in my existence. Delicate, almost like a fresh drop of honeydew. Intricate, almost as if the designer felt every vein of a real leaf before he, or she, sculpted this beauty. 

"It's beautiful. Where did you get it from?"

"This is the latest collection, LEAF, of Mr. Rao, isn't it beautiful! The theme of the design is for all lovers, new and old, who wish to turn a new leaf. How romantic must he be if the rumors are true about his secret lover?"

Her next words are silenced by my pounding heart. The mere mention of his name sends my thoughts in a frenzy. 

Leaf. 

New Leaf.

Pallavi. 

I know not when I found myself walking away from her. Away from his creation. Away from his message. Away from his memories and his love. His distraught face in the midst of glamor and limelight speaks of his repentance, each time I inevitably came across gossip columns or clippings of the red carpets he attended. I never gave more thought to the rumors of a secret lover. Was it true? 

Leaf.....new leaf....Pallavi.....the words resonate in my head in his voice. Repeatedly. 

Whirlwind. My head feels heavy. Why did he name his new collection after me? He always finds a way to make my heart ache. He is bound to my pain, for what I said that night was bound to come true. But why am I bound to the same pain he is bound to? I thought I freed myself of all the shackles of his ignorance. I thought I freed myself from the onset of the feelings I had for him. Then ,what is this nagging pain that never leaves me in spite of succeeding to own my life? 

Is someone else the master of my soul, and I, a follower? 

The questions don't cease to be and I find myself in the very moment I left him on that dreadful day. It all comes back with an intense pang at a point in my life when I truly felt that I've moved past all the pain? The weather seems to mirror my heart. It's outcast and the winds are cold, slapping my face with the pain of a longing I buried deep inside my heart as I walk to the one place where I've found peace during my time here, a place where I've cried silently, the tears not visible to any stranger. 

My safe haven, a home I found in a strange place. 

Next post: Part 4: A Secret Turning in us - Section B.