Lady Enigma

Chapter 10

We both sat in comfortable silence on her cosy sofa, watching the comedy scenes of Telugu movies. Kiran sat alongside me, relaxed while taking long deep breaths, a coy smile flickering on her soft full lips as the scenes progressed.

But the real thorn is not being addressed. The wound is still bleeding. Still sore. And to cure that, it must be pulled out.

"So... About you..." I say while facing her. Her half-wrinkled face had deepened lines with confusion.

"What about me?" She asked as if I was being the dumbest person in this world.

"Come on, Kiran. We both know that you went on AWOL since the day you met that lady." I explain, gently.

"Whoa! I was not on an AWOL! I... I just..." She searched for few words "Whatever! I was not on an AWOL!" She scoffed.

I laughed, shaking my head "Okay. You were not on an AWOL." I surrender "then tell me, your cause of absence?" She seemed pleased with my articulation.

"I had to deal with some..." She hesitated "I... tsk it's hard to explain." She sighed, covering her painfully fragile face in her small palms.

"Is it... is it regarding your... Trauma?" I ask hesitantly while placing my hand on her shoulder. Subtly.

She doesn't respond. After a really long time, she speaks "how did you know... about... me... having a trauma.."

She covered herself in a protective position. I've seen this before. It's a position that is generally taken by the victims of accidents, murder attempt, bombard or rape.

They don't realise it. But their subconsciousness directly pulls themselves close to their heart. In a foetus position to protect themselves. Like in a mother's womb.

For me, it was pretty normal. Until now. Seeing the dandy girl I met before, like this, realising that even she has a dark side she doesn't want to show, breaks my heart.

And it hurts even more that, she doesn't want to share it with me.

"Are you seeing any therapist?" I asked while stroking her loose, long hair bun, that is threatening to fall over her oversized sweater.

"...No.." she muffled while burying her face in her forearms.

I know.

In India, not many give importance to therapy. Mental health is now taking a lot of importance, but still, there are few, who can't afford or think "it's not necessary". They think that they will get over it as time passes.

I don't know if I should pity her or admonish her for being such a hypocrite. Talks about reform and order but doesn't follow herself.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?" There! I plucked the thorn. "If not the primary incident, at least, what that lady said that day," I suggest, expecting some movement in her.

"Do you... really..." She gulps "are you sure you want to know?"

I nod with all sincerity and vulnerability. I want her to trust me. I want her to feel better around me. A comfort.

She adjusted herself, her back pressed on to the back of the sofa. The television running its images on mute. And I, waiting for her to unleash herself.

"That lady... is a plastic surgeon." She fisted her hand "I helped with her divorce. And she works in Apollo. So, I asked a favour that day, to take care of your mother." She explained.

A sigh "And when she asked me to come outside, she said that she would like to help me fix my..." Another sigh "...my face." A tear rolled on her wrinkled cheek.

"I... I really... " She chokes on her words "Oh God! This is so embarrassing. Are you sure you want to know more?" She asked, looking for something in my eyes, that I'm not sure about.

"Trust me.." I sweep the pad of my thumb over her cheek, which was smeared with a stream of tear. "If it is about you, I want to know everything." I looked into her eyes, with what look? I don't exactly know. But, she got the reassurance she needed. And so, she nodded her head.

"I appreciate her concern. I really do. But..." A deep, stuttering breath "When I can accept the truth, why can't others get over with it?" She looks at me as if she realised she missed saying something else.

"After my attack, I consulted many Plastic Surgeons. Everyone did their own kind of tests and analysis. At some point, I was exhausted. No one was giving up. Not doctors and not even my parents. They were hell-bent upon "making me normal"  or whatever they meant by that.." she scoffed.

"To be honest, I gave up the next second I came to my senses. That this particular change..." She pointed at her face "...is irreversible." She sat there, stared at nothing. Eyes brimming with tears. A silent wail.

"Everyone confirmed that my endothermic tissues got damaged because of that acid. And nothing can be done to it. And when she came out of the blue and said like "fixing this attribute is like a piece of cake! I'm surprised that no one was able to do it!"" She rolled her eye while saying that in mockery.

"Are we subjected to follow beauty standards? Why can't people just... I don't know... move on with it?" She stood up from her seat, making me arch my neck to see her.

"One says my shape is wrong, one says my skin tone is a bit too dark, and someone else shows pity that I can't be "beautiful". What the hell is wrong with me? Don't I look like a human? Is it not enough to live on this planet?" She asks me with rage dancing dangerously in her eyes.

She is annoyed that she can't impress people anymore. "Whenever I meet new people all I get is "Oh! This poor soul!" look. No one looks at me in the same way anymore. That makes me feel like, am I really Kiran? Did I really survive here with these people for twenty-four years? Why are they so foreign to me? Do they know me? Or do I know them?"

She brushes off a stray tear "I'm exhausted. Living this life is more like a chore. What is the point of this existence?" She slumped down, falling on her knees. As if she accepted the defeat.

I sit there, looking at her, not knowing what to say. What can I really say? Say that, things will be normal, and people will stop seeing you differently? No. Because that would be a total BS.

Looks are deceptive. Yet everyone depends on them. However long it might be, people will look at her with pity, with slight feelings of disgust and horror that she had to go through something, so terrible.

I can't help but agree with her. Empathise with her. I have nothing to give.

I stood up from my seat to reach out for, now weeping Kiran, collapsed on the ground while her body moved due to hysteric sobs. I pull her limp body against my steady and firm one, letting her waft in my warmth and embrace.

I let her cry. Sob. Shout. Anything. I just let her be. She let out her every pent up anger, disappointment, sadness... Everything.

I sat there. Doing nothing but being with her.

For her.

-—-—-—

A/N: Uh... I can explain!

My internals is being conducted, and I'm not having the will to do... Anything.

I hope the chapter was satisfying.

I mean, come on people, you can't ask Vijay to give a Ted Talk to Kiran now, can you? He's not a therapist.

What Kiran needs, is support to hang on for a bit, and then a therapist to move on with her appearance. Don't you think so?

What do you think? Did Vijay do the right thing by staying silent?

Vote and comment, s'il-vous-plaît!

See you later! xoxo.