The Revelation
Find yourself
It is a silent night. The moon shines dazzling bright.
A piece of beautiful music drifts through the open window. I can’t recognise the melody, but it is something that tugs at my heartstrings and sets off a wave of emotions. Sadness and despair surge through me.
Intrigued, I slip quietly out of the door in search of the owner of an enchanting voice. I turn back once as the moonlight from the open door falls on the faces of my friends, but they are fast asleep, dead to everything.
I walk along the winding path that leads to the secluded part of this farmhouse where the garden is, for the music seemed to come from there. Owls hoot, bats bat their wings nearby. But I walk on, determined.
Weeds cover the garden. Broken statues lie here and there. It was once the favourite place of my aunt’s son, but after she found him in the bathtub with his wrists slit open and head underwater, she let the house and the garden turn back into a jungle. The caretaker of the farmhouse looks after the main house but apparently, he doesn’t bother with this place. We are probably the first people who have come to stay the night here after the mishap.
As I step into the clearing, I gasp at the sight. A child is singing, their hand slung over the edge of the deep basin of the fountain. Black hair cascades down their back, a few strands floating in the pinkish water. I gasp. The colour is like you get when you try to wash blood off a cut in a bowl of water.
Hearing my footsteps, the child looks up. Wait — no, the person is not a child. They eerily resemble my aunt’s son, but the sharp edges of their face are softened, giving them a more feminine look. Tears stream down their cheeks. The face holds so much anguish my heart breaks open.
I approach them slowly, like one would do with a wounded animal. I hold my hand out as a sign of solidarity. A small grin begins to bloom on their pale face as their fingers tangle with mine. I look up at them smiling.
Before my eyes, the face I knew as my cousin’s slowly morphs into one I recognise too well. It’s the face I see in the mirror everyday.
My face!
I pull my hand back in shock. I am sure my face reflects my horror. But the apparition takes no notice. They continue to smile at me, their eyes still brimming with tears.
The eyes — they look so like mine, even portraying the same sadness and shame I try so hard to hide within me. My chest tightens.
The apparition leans into me. I’m sure they can smell my fear. “Be you,” they whisper.
I clench my fists, anger and hatred rising from within me. Anger at the apparition for telling me who I am when I try so hard to hide that away from the world, hating myself for feeling that way.
“I’ve managed to come so far in my life without coming out, haven’t I? I am not one of those perverts in the streets. I am okay with being who I am now.” I talk to the apparition through gritted teeth, desperate to believe my words.
“And continue to hate yourself? Hate your body?” The words sound like taunts to my ears.
Roaring, I jump at the apparition just as water from the pond rises to engulf me in a crushing, watery, suffocating hug. I can’t breathe. This is the end, I think as I close my eyes, my body giving in to the exhaustion.
I splutter and cough up water. Tears sting my eyes.
“Thank God you are awake! We were worried about you.” I open my eyes and immediately the concerned face of Titir comes into focus.
“What happened?” I manage to croak out.
“We found you here with your head stuck under the water. Honestly, we thought you were dead. Looks like you weren’t in the water for too long. But seriously, would it hurt to call any of us if you wanted to go on an excursion at the middle of the night?”
Always the blunt one, Samir.
I shrug and try to smile my innocent smile to get away from the barrage of questions that is sure to follow. “Maybe I was staring at the water like the narcissist I am, fell asleep and fell in. You know me.”
They shake their heads at me but thankfully don’t question me anymore.
We are going home today. As our car pulls away, I take a last look at the house. It stands alone, surrounded by tall trees, lonely and haunted.
I wonder if yesterday’s happenings were just my mind playing tricks on me or was it something else.
Who knows?
