“I, will, firstly, strip myself of clothes and ornaments. Then I intend to peel off this light brown skin and shatter my bones.
At last, I hope you will be able to see my homeless, orphan, intensely beautiful soul, deep within the bone, deep down under, beneath even the marrow, in a fourth dimension.”
– Kamala Das, excerpts from the translation of her autobiography in Malayalam,
I am unveiled. The piece of cloth I used to cover my face, is lost somewhere. I lost it. Somewhere in the crowd, among the masked people. Today I am standing here, unveiled. My face is uncovered.
When I lost that cloth, I became scared. What if, my face is revealed to everyone? What if, the boy afar could see my lips? What if, the man beside me could see my eyes? What if, I come across my own reflection, in the glass window of any shop?
For decades, I have not seen myself in the mirror. I forgot how was my face, how I looked, once. Decades ago.
Today, I stand unveiled. For I have nothing to hide. From you, from the world. My story is being written since years, perhaps, before my birth. But still, I have a thousand year old one, sleeping inside my heart, covered with hundreds of lies.
You think you can see me? You can see all of me?
Yes, you see my face. Smiling, sometimes, uttering the beauty around with her lips.
But I see my soul, lying here, all alone in the darkness. I see some places in me, isolated from others, homeless, staring at me like an orphan. I find some untold stories of me, there. I call them, scars. I find my glory in them, for I see the light entering in my soul through the pain. I am proud of them, for they sing the echo of my wounds. I know, they are mine. My lips, my eyes. My perfections, my imperfections. My scars, my beauty, my defeats, my victory. All mine. Mine alone.
I am unveiled, but at deepest of my soul, a part of me is still waiting to lift its veil. One time, and then, hundred times over.
Read my all posts of this month long event here.]
Read short story ‘Liberation’ here.