Sunday, February 23, 2014


When i look in the mirror, the sight of my littleness, both literal and metaphorical fills me with revulsion. I also envisage what i could be had circumstances been different but mostly stark reality, unmitigated by anything anodyne, forces itself on me unambiguously and painfully. To know the reasons for one's diminution and the path to its alleviation doesn't make things easier. It compounds the problem by counterpointing the lack of appurtenances and human agency necessary to prompt this exculpation. So i wait patiently, though with increasing hopelessness, for my self realization to materialize.

Passing by the gates of the castle i hear the sound of weeping. I see a young woman crying her eyes out because the king has asked her to spin straw into gold. Knowing that this is home territory for me i help her out. She gives me her necklace. On the second day, finding her in the same predicament i bail her out again, only to be given a ring this time. When the third day finds the situation reduplicated and seeing also that she has nothing to offer i ask for her hand in marriage four years from now. She agrees.

The interlude of four years is spent in a state of pleasurable anticipation. Signifiers of my old being stud me, not with irrevocability but tinged with hopefulness. I am alternately excited and terrified because everything hinges on her fulfilling her promise and i also know, with certainty that i can exact allegiance to the promise from her regardless of circumstances.

Four years hence i go to her and remind her of her promise. She refuses and in her repudiation , which i subterraneously anticipated i find old anxieties resurfacing. Her obdurate refusal leaves me with no choice but to play my final card. I ask her to guess my name. She thinks of the most bizarre possible names but can't guess at mine.

That night, as the chimney issues smoke i build a fire and dance around it singing 'my name is Rumplestiltskin'. I know with foredoomed certainty that my fate is sealed so i go to the castle next day, expecting diminution of not just my physiognomy but of any hope of becoming.

She has guessed my name. I am suddenly transformed into what my essence was and what i wanted to be. My transwoman being and becoming  refracted from my every crevice and aperture. She kissed me and it seemed that the mirror showed me not what was but what was. I took her away with me. I had expected that my transmogrification could be precipitated but now the discovery of love augments my joy. Her propensities and orientation allies her to me. We hope to live happily ever after. 

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