-• the grace of a swan •-
Taranya
"On the beat, three, two, one!"
The music fills the room and I elegantly drop my posture to move along with the beats. My Guru says it right. If assumed, the world can be your stage, and the stage can be your whole world. It doesn't matter where you are, as long as your body loves the music, it'll flow. I underestimated how liberating dancing is. Because God bless me for stepping out of the car that evening, I don't think I've ever loved myself more than I do when I'm dancing. I can understand why Sara was- perhaps is so obsessed with dancing. The most powerful part of yourself emerges from within to embrace the vulnerability you're ashamed of. The eyes that watch me, I don't care what they think of me, because I'm confident, I'm in bliss, and most importantly, I'm happy.
As an artist, I feel art is a mirror showing you the most beautiful parts of yourself that you fail to see. World has shaped us to believe what it deems normal is normal. And we scramble to push ourselves harder to fit those standards. At the end of the day, we come home to those reflections that the world might approve, but we don't. And then we muse quietly by the window, asking ourselves; What's wrong with us? Why don't we feel enough?
How could you ever feel enough after abandoning the truth inside of you? Because no matter how shiny lies are, what's fabricated can never discredit the real. Empty houses don't make homes. And isn't that what we are? Perfect on the outside, remarkable even, but beneath those expensive wallpapers and velvet soft carpets, we're mouldy, chipped, and broken.
We're in dire need of acceptance. Of our own self.
And as I dance today, I feel myself accepting me, even if for a moment, even if temporarily. And that's, that's exhilarating. I'm moving stealthily, measuring each of my steps, my eyes solely on my reflection, and this reflection of mine is the truth I've spent decades hiding. But now that I look at it, it's not that bad. In fact, I love it. I'm not perfect right now. My hair have come undone, and not the pretty kind of undone, they're half tangled, half open. I'm not aesthetic. The gap between my blouse and skirt reveals the stretch marks and hip dips. There was a time I was too fat, now I'm too thin. And it bothers me. But not when I dance, not when I'm in the gym getting trained by my brother, it only bothers me when I'm in front of the world. Perhaps, it has started to notice that I'm not trying to fit the standards anymore. It's getting insecure, so it wants to make me insecure. I won't lie. I fall for it. Often times. Just not when I'm with myself or around the people that truly accept me.
It's a good place to be.
It's a beautiful place to be.
With yourself.
I missed it. I hadn't been with me for a long time. Dance led me back to it.
The music stops, so do I, we both descend from the high. My skirt spreads around like a blooming flower, my legs folded on the side, arms fallen apart, and my chest heaves.
"Beautiful," My Guru says. "Oh my God, I've got chills."
I smile.
The students all burst in applause and whistles. I look around the class, accepting the appreciation in their eyes with gratitude.
"You've done a remarkable progress in less that two weeks!" She exclaims as I get up from the floor. "It was a one minute bit, but I can't wait to see you for much longer on stage. You're a treat to watch, Taranya. You've the grace of a swan."
"Thank you," I place my hand on the chest before moving to my backpack in the corner. The next student in line takes up my spot, and just like that, I'm out of everyone's mind as someone else fills in. I breath out in relief, my back to the wall, knees pulled up and I take a sip of water from the bottle, watching the performance quietly in my space.
My phone vibrates in the front zip of the backpack. I take it out.
BF (Bitch Friend): we're going shopping today, you remember right?
Me: I do. I'll be done in five. See you in that cafe across your campus street.
BF (Bitch Friend): there are many. be specific.
Me: I don't know it's some cafe with cute bells and brown wallpaper all over. It has got all cowboy vibes going for it.
BF (Bitch Friend): got it. alright, Tarun is here to pick me up. I'll see ya in the cafe.
I put the phone back down and grab my backpack from the floor, exiting the classroom quietly to change. The glass door of changing room swings close behind me when I'm done. I smile at the receptionist on my way out. She waves me bye.
Honestly, I needed Tarun to give me a lift today. Because God, I'm aching all over. But Janet's car broke down this morning, a good opportunity for Agastya to rub it in her face, which he did not miss, so I had to drive her to the University and Tarun had to pick her up, given I'd be busy with my dance classes.
Surprisingly, Tarun has seamlessly fit in our friend group, if you can even call it that, and made it a perfect trio. He's that cute gay best friend every female lead has in romcoms, except that he's not Gay and not a bestfriend but hopefully, we can change that soon.
Agastya was also very happy to see him. Turns out, before I came to the palace, Tarun used to run most errands for Agastya and they bonded well over that. He didn't like the fact that Tarun is still single, but the boy cleared up he has no interest in me, never did, and therefore he's not a "threat". Yes, he called himself a threat. I still shake my head in amusement remembering that conversation.
Throwing my backpack in the backseat of the car, I get inside and turn on the ignition. The engine comes alive with a satisfactory whir and I pull the car out of the parking lot.
London gets pretty busy in the late evenings, so the traffic moves quiet slow. I tap my fingers on the wheel, nodding my head to the bollywood number that booms inside the car. A regular bloke next to me rolls down his window, earning my attention.
"That's some amazing music, what it's called?"
"Uhm, bollywood classical?" I shrug.
He smiles, bobbing his head to the beats. "It's eccentric."
"Yeah, it's got all tablas and flutes and sitar playing in it."
"Oh, it's a classic." He realises.
"Pretty much." I nod. "It's from the 90s."
His brows shoot upward. "You can never go wrong with the nineties and seventies. No matter which part of the world they belong to."
"True."
"Good to see young ones like you appreciating the old classics. I'd love to get your Spotify playlist but it's late and I'm heading that way," he points to his right. "Have a great evening."
"You too. It was nice talking to you." While my car moves ahead, his deviates to the right at the crossroads.
I reach the cafe shortly after. Cutting off the engine in the parking lot, I get out and carry my phone along with me inside the cafe.
"You're so damn late!" Janet grunts as soon as I sit down.
"I'm sorry that London traffic doesn't move at my whims." I flag down a waitress. "I'll have an ice latte. No sugar." Janet eyes me weirdly. "Don't look at me like that. I'm cutting down on calories."
She scoffs. "You don't need to cut down on anything."
I sigh and wave off the waitress. "What crawled up your arse and died?"
"Ew, don't say that." Tarun scrunches his nose. "I can never understand why English phrases are so weird. Just ask her what's wrong."
"Okay, my bad, everyone is PMSing it seems."
"I'm not PMSing." Janet growls.
"She's not." Tarun nods. "She lost her topper's rank because of two marks."
Hearing that, Janet groans.
I snort.
Big mistake. Janet glares at me like she'll rip me apart if I don't treat this matter like the world's future depends on it. "Okay, I'm sorry. But cheer up. We're going shopping today!" I lightly punch her in the arm.
She crosses her arms on the chest. "I didn't want to come second." She clicks her tongue in disappointment.
"What's wrong with coming second?" I ask her, thanking the waitress that serves me my order.
"No one remembers them."
"Wrong." I take a sip of my coffee.
"Oh really, tell me the first man to step on the moon?" She smiles sweetly.
"Neil Armstrong." Tarun answers.
"And the second?" She cocks a brow.
Silence prevails.
"I think I've seen this scene in some movie." I mumble under my breath.
"That's not the point." Janet snaps. "Tell me the second man to step on the moon."
I unlock my phone and type it in the browser. "Edwin Aldrin." I answer. "It's here." I show her the screen. "The world remembers him, Janet. It's us who focus too much on who came first and who came second. Because guess what, someone did consider him important even though he was second." I flaunt the screen.
She rolls her eyes.
"Are we going to that shopping or not? The last time we finished up so late I had to crash at your apartment." Tarun looks at me pointedly.
"Yeah, let me just finish this and we can go." I sit straight and pick up the cup of my coffee.
"You're weird, you know." Janet eyes Tarun suspiciously.
"How so?"
"You act like a typical man. But then you entertain our, what you men call it the "girly stuff." And you look like you don't even enjoy it." She mutters thoughtfully. "What's up with you?"
"What does your instinct say?" He plays along.
"That it's either one of the two,"
"Enlighten me." I look between them in amusement.
"You're planning to make Tara your sugar mommy," She holds up a finger. I sputter out the coffee and end up coughing aloud.
The two look at me startled. "Don't mind me, go on." I say hoarsely, wiping my lips with the tissues.
"Or you're a spy."
"The sugar mommy sounds realistic, but I'd go with the spy one. It's more exciting." I cast my vote.
"I'd like to keep it real." Janet nods.
Tarun shakes his head at both of us. "How about this?" He pulls out his wallet to pay for the coffee. "I came to London, got an admission in the college where Tara studies, so I can make her fall in love with me and get my revenge?" He puts the money in the billbook and hands it to the waitress. "Keep the change." He says to her without tearing his eyes off us.
"I know all your plans now." I smirk.
"More fun." He winks and gets up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder before walking away.
Janet's jaw drops low. "That was hot."
I chuckle at her.
"What?" She smiles, getting up along with me. "You can't disagree. That was hot." We head out of the cafe. Tarun stands by his car, texting someone. When we get closer, he shoves his phone in the pockets and stands straight.
"I've told my friend to come and get the car. Let's take yours." He suggests.
"Alright, c'mon then, we gotta hurry up it's already late." I unlock my car using the fob. It beeps.
"Do you have a crush on someone or are you completely single?" I hear Janet ask him.
"I'm not into older women." He rejects her right off the bat.
"It's just one year." She defends.
"Still old." He insists.
"Damn it." She stomps to the passenger side and slides inside, closing the door shut.
"You went from interrogating him to hitting on him real quick." I comment as soon as I get into the car. Tarun takes up the backseat, shifting my backpack to the right and keeping his right in front of it.
"A girl has priorities, okay." She crosses her arms on her chest.
"Guilty." I put on my seatbelt and turn on the engine.
The Greenwich Market is crowded. We came out shopping just for the fun of it. We don't actually need anything. Diwali is coming up and we wanted to feel like we're preparing for the festival. We have already bought the main stuff on Sunday from Southall Market. And what we couldn't get, we ordered it online. We have also pre-ordered our lehengas from India. The packages arrived this morning. I've read the most fun thing about Diwali is doing things yourself. The cleaning, sweets, snacks, putting up the lights, all that jazz.
Aunt Bertha and Agastya took care of the sweet and snacks part. Yes, the poor man is stuck in the kitchen with the lady since yesterday. While Janet and I decided to get the lights and some decoration stuff from the market. Tarun offered to join us.
When we had bumped into each other in the University, I really thought I'll have to struggle very hard to earn his forgiveness and get that casual rhythm settle back between us. But did it come as a surprise when he instantly gelled with me so well I didn't even get a moment to think this is the same guy I had hurt in the past. It's like, he approached me with forgiveness in his mind. It's honestly so praiseworthy.
"Tara, these ones!" Janet's voice rips me out of my thoughts. I focus on her. "These ones blink." She shows me.
We see more options before going along with her choice. Then we get some artificial garlands, some real flowers, crystal droopings, and a few fancy pieces of fabrics. Agastya suggested hiring an event management company to decorate the house. I had almost scoffed on his face. Who hires event mangers to decorate your own house during festivals? Even if we don't do it as perfect as them, we'll still be proud of doing it by ourselves. In the end, that memory will stay longer than some perfect, pretty shots of professionally decorated house.
When we get back to my car, Tarun closes the trunk and leans over the backseat to grab his backpack.
"Where to, sir?" I frown.
He blinks. "We're done with the shopping. I should head to my dorm now. It's pretty late."
"You're not heading anywhere. You're coming home with us." I state.
He chuckles awkwardly. "I don't think so."
"Okay, you guys do you thing, I'll just take a selfie. I'm at the Greenwich Market!" Janet makes a victory sign at the camera, her back to us as she tries to capture the welcome board. We automatically come into the frame.
Ignoring her, "But I do." I nod. "Get in the car."
"I don't have festival clothes on me, Taranya."
"Agastya has a lot." I place my hand on his chest, pushing him towards the car. He resists.
"Tara, no."
"Yes."
"Tara-" he trips backward and instinctive yanks my wrist. My chest clashes with his stiff front. His arm wraps around my waist, my hand grips his shoulder. "Shit, sorry."
"Wow," we both look at Janet. She lowers her phone and turns around, showing us the photo. "I look like a side character in my own picture." She pouts.
Tarun and I quickly move away, putting distance between us.
"Delete that please." He requests Janet.
"Nope. In fact, I'm gonna post it." She grins.
"No!" Tarun shouts, a flash of fear crosses his eyes. We both flinch. His lashes flutter awkwardly when he realises how loud he was. "I mean," he swallows, "No, please. We all know what happened the last time your brothers thought I'm interested in you." He looks me in the eyes.
Oh, right.
"Yes, Janet, he's right. Delete that picture."
"Okay," she immediately obliges. "There, deleted. Now c'mon, we agreed and deleted the picture so you agree and join us for the evening." She bargains.
He gives in with a nod of defeat.
We drive home. The sweet smell that wafts from the kitchen fills my nose. Soon enough, Agastya comes out, holding a plate in his hand. "I made it. You guys have to try." He holds the plate forward.
"No way you made it alone." Janet takes the gujiya and tastes it. "Yeah, you made it alone." She nods, grimacing slightly.
Agastya lowers his hands. "Is it that bad?"
She chuckles. "No, it isn't. It is actually very good."
"Bitch."
"Hey, no bad words. Today is an auspicious day." Aunt Bertha says as she comes following him. "Try it, Tara, your brother really made it on his own. I just instructed around a little."
My throat automatically closes up at the thought of having to chew something. I camouflage the panic with forced smiles. "I'll - I'll try later. We need to get changed-"
"No, try it now." Agastya orders.
I nibble on the inside of my lip. "I- I will. I just -"
"She's cutting low on calories." Janet chimes in.
"Yes!" I exclaim, grateful to Janet for providing me with the excuse. "I'm cutting low on calories."
"Eat one, Tara." Agastya commands calmly.
I stiffen. Did he catch on my weirdness? Did he finally figure out I've turned into this freak who can't eat anything that's not soupy or gooey or soft?
"Eat it, please." He pouts.
I heave a sigh of relief. "Sure." I force a smile and lift a hand to pick one from the plate. My fingers tremble a little as I bring it to my mouth. Everyone looks at me with eyes of expectation. I bite into the crunchy gujiya, and the nausea kicks in. My lips wobble. "It's -" my tongue knots up. I feel like throwing up. "It's amazing." I nod, unable to swallow it. "Excuse me, I need to use the loo." I quickly rush past him and into my room, slamming the door close, not bothering to check whether it's locked or not before I'm bending over the toilet seat in my washroom and throwing up.
I retch until I can no more. Tears fill my eyes and I sit back with a thud, wiping the corners of my lips. The acidic taste lingers in my mouth. A sob builds up in the back of my throat. I stifle it before gasping when I notice the shadow that joins mine on the wall. My head snaps towards the door and there Agastya stands, holding the plate of the sweets in his hand, shock and anguish written across his face.
"I knew it." He says. "I had a hunch."
Tears roll down my eyes.
"When did it start?" He whispers.
"After Dad's death." I answer.
He puts the plate away and joins me on the floor. His arms come around me and he hugs me tightly. I break down in heavy sobs. His body quivers, as if he's furious for being helpless.
"I'm here, you hear me? I'm right here, short stuff. Always." He strokes a hand down my hair to my lower back and continues that action until I've calmed down.
I cling to him like he's my only anchor. "Thank you. Thank you, Bhai."
That's the second time she called him Bhai. Who knew a single word could mean the world one day.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.