Hit by lightning twice

I was raised in India where there are a great deal of lightning strikes. That’s probably where I remembered seeing it. That green light, a type of lightning which is rare, was seen as a bad omen.

My face was marred by the strike – no longer resembling human features. Shunned, I felt myself an alien specimen than a child. Even my best friend, Anita, turned away from me. The only person that acted indifferent to my scars was my uncle, Verdi.

For as long as I could remember, I felt he could see right through me. It was clear by the way everyone acted, that he was worldly. For that he was revered. He knew a lot and saw more. His electric green eyes, a genetic rarity, made him radiate clairvoyancy.

It wasn’t surprising then that out of all my surroundings he was the only one that not only accepted but shared the same stirrings of the soul. “My baby alien,” he would call me, making me forget for a moment, that my obsessions with the extraterritorial made me a social aberration. A diametric opposite to cultural expectations. Frowned upon by parents. They would say – “stop talking all this alien nonsense! Why don’t you study like your brother – he’s on his way to becoming a great doctor and what about you?”

When my face was disfigured, many thought it was a punishment and I’d brought it on myself in taking interest in things I shouldn’t have. My curiosity was seen as an affliction. The demons’ enticement. When really I should have been nose-deep, buried in a book.

If the incident were meant to teach me something, to subjugate me, make me go quietly like a happy supplicant to the fate that was instilled from my mother’s cage-like womb - it did nothing of the sort. Many people thought it would – they were wrong. If before I could pretend to don the cloak of responsibility just like my brother, handed down to us for generations, well now the clothing felt nothing short of torture – like it was sure to burn my skin if I so much as tried it on.

To everyone who knew me, I became intolerable. If my alien talk was at one point seen as a quirk, now it was a bane and it was not uncommon for strangers to urge my parents to do something. Push me back into my appearance of normality even if it’s fake and even if it’s a cage.

I don’t think I would have minded the cage-like reality. If I am honest, I was hardly aware that it existed. But once my face was slashed, it was like all I could see was the ugly cold bars of the cage – symbolic of my life path. I could never forget it, especially since no one let me forget. Every grimace that was shot my way, before bounding in a direction to get away from me – delivered an awakening reminder as cold as a blow to the face from a parent. I was diseased. It was as if my distorted face and jarring decision not to bow down to my ‘duties’ could spread to them if they got too close.

That’s how it began– this intolerable isolation. My parents tried beatings and my brother was allowed to dish them out at will in the name of education. But again, this worked only to harden my body where no ‘cloak of responsibility’ would fit over it. I wasn’t mad at my parents or my brother – the rest of society seemed to feel the same and they simply fell in line with it. My brother would say – "look at how disgusting you’ve become, at least make yourself a doctor you’d be useful at least then." Initially it hurt, but then a calm descended when I realised the anger that burned in his eyes. Disgust, mirroring his, filled my stomach then, as I observed his lack of control –his face devoid of emotion other than anger. I withdrew in that moment, retreating to my happy place.

If I didn’t fit in, if I were so alien – then my fascinations steered me well. That is where I will reside. My imagination flowed – planning an escape at that point hadn’t crossed my conscious mind but my heart yearned for it. This need emerged in my drawings and stories of other worlds. A world where I wouldn’t be seen as ‘other’. Where I would be accepted. Maybe the alien world would be it.

Then as I considered that, I noticed the emergence of two green eyes staring up at me, forming from a cluster of scribbles and drawings. In that instant, my uncle flooded to the surface of my mind– I wondered about him. He had been travelling for a while and I felt myself missing him.

My thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. I slipped my drawings between the pages of a Math book, and readied myself for another barrage of my brother’s insults. The cage was not comfortable for either of us but his inability to ‘see’ meant he had become one with it. The result, a mess of a human with no emotional regulation– a sorry state of affairs when a spirit is broken for it to be a nothing more than a malleable tool of service in society.

As he entered, his face seemed paler than usual, it almost made me want to reach out and console him.

“Have you been studying?”

“Yes”

“Fine..”

I couldn’t help examining him as he paused – he didn’t seem to even have energy to fight anymore.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” his tone heavy before returning to the usual sneer. “Don’t be stupid. Of course, I am. I’m not the one that has a face like leftovers from someone’s dinner.”

I didn’t comment. I understood that he wouldn’t want any comfort from me and for that I was sorry. He looked at me again. His eyes intensely focused. It was then that I realised I had said it aloud. I had said I was sorry for the first time since the incident, my perceived rebellion and shame inflicted upon the family. The trouble I had caused him, as an added responsibility on top of his demanding scholastic duties.

He hadn’t expected the apology and something in his features softened.

“Thank you.” And then added in a more practiced tone, as if forced to through ritual. “ You are finally learning.”

There was another pause. When he finally looked up at me, it was as if he was really seeing me for the first time. He took a deep breath before saying, “Anita, had been asking to see you for a few months now.”

I wondered why my brother was telling me this – it was obvious that parents wouldn’t allow social visits anyway. It also dawned on me that my brother was trying to do something nice for me.

I kept silent biding my time and luck. “ If you want to see her, tell parents you’ll be out for groceries at 2pm. Tell them I’ve okayed it as you’re ahead in your studies for now.”

“Thank you.” I whispered in shock. My brother left the room before another moment of awkwardness could transpire between us.

***

I wanted to feel happy, but the feeling was tainted. Through the shop window, I savored the one sided observation. The peace – before it gave way to gawking and the inadvertent recoiling in disgust at the sight of me.

Once Anita saw me, she immediately schooled her features. Her perfectly blank expression, dropped as soon as our eyes met. We got our groceries, waves of tension flowing between us. Then I took her hand and led her where we could be alone.

As we sat at an abandoned orchard bench, I tried to think of what to say. I had imagined this moment so many times in my mind but now that it had come to it, I didn’t know where to start. “Why did you leave me?” I wanted to say. I understood she couldn’t see me after school down to my parental restrictions but why did she avoid me in school? Did things change after my accident? Was this now her way of ending our friendship? I was bracing myself for the final blow to land, keeping myself bound so tight that when I felt the first subtle pressure of fingers grace my facial features, I nearly vacated my body . Anita’s finger tips began to trace slowly, her closed eye lids fluttering as she inspected the level of damage done to my skin. I leaned in and then felt the return of emptiness as those hands retreated.

I opened my eyes to Anita’s hands cradled into her lap. She was staring unseeing before her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you.” Her voice faltered. “I couldn’t – you were always stronger than me.” Her speech quickened, as if her resolve could break at any moment.

“It is my fault. I was jealous you and everything you had –your appearance, your presence, your ability to talk with such passion.“ She carried on, a little bent over now staring into her lap more. “My parents would always say why couldn’t I be more like you. It made me glad that you got into trouble for your alien babble.”

I stilled, as she went on, now unable to stop like a boulder rolling down a cliff.

“You could get everyone in the room to pay attention to you. Even the great Verdi always had a special eye for you.”

She began to shake and her hands buried deeper and deeper into her skirt. I couldn’t move as I watched.

“I got everything I wanted. When you were struck by that green lightening, you became as ugly as sin. A disgusting alien from your stories. I was no longer the stale friend in the background. And …”

She swallowed , wiping her tears.

“Your uncle took an interest in me finally.” She began to cry in earnest. “He began to want me… but I’m scared… I don’t want this anymore. I’m sorry. I know I did it. The evil eye, I cast it without realising. My jealousy was too strong. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.” Her voice kept breaking and failing her. After a while, all that came out were whimpers.

I hugged my friend. “It wasn’t you. And it’s okay. Please do as I say.”

***

Now I lay in bed in wait for the only person that doesn’t flinch at my touch to come see me. I haven’t seen him in a while and even though I know I should be feeling fear and trepidation, I cannot say that there isn’t a slight longing that’s mixed in. When everyone recoils at you, when the only kind of touch you know is pain and disgust, you begin to yearn for something different.

Anita served as an accomplice in my set up. A dinner party was arranged at my home, during which I traced the inner thigh of our target. To Verdi, it was a sign equivalent to a sledgehammer. I thought if I diverted his attentions to myself, my friend would be set free. I was defiled by the world already. I was happy to sacrifice myself but I also knew that it was not the only reason I was doing this.

I had excused myself from the party dinner. It must have been hours before I see the door creek open and from the depths of the room, flooded in darkness, something glistens at me.

Two electric green eyes.

“My baby alien.”

As I hear those words, I feel a shock run through my body.

“So this is what it’s like to get hit by lightning twice.” I think as green light fills the room.