Thursday, March 12, 2015


'You're just jealous' he said.
'No, i'm not. I don't expect anything from you', I rejoined
'Then why are you so uncommunicative', he queried
'you've made your choice, i have nothing to say'. I concluded.
That night as i replayed this conversation in my head i felt an unutterable desolation. I ran,in my mind, the things i could and probably should have said. I explored, imaginatively, outcomes to this dialogue between us that would reflect favourably on me. But the conversation had, with finality, taken the form it did and there wasn't much i could do but wish that it had been different.
As i struggled to sleep i felt a hunger for sex so profound that it overwhelmed me. I shook with nervous, unexpended energy. My mind was in tumult, proliferating with images alternately lewd and gratifying.My brain was a white hot light of energy which, with the increasing ferocity and ravenousness of my lust exploded into fragments of molten white energy and reconstituted. I felt some primal part of me emerge and overtake me. I was a victim to this insatiable desire for consummation. And it seemed irrelevant, that he, the centre of my desire, was no longer there. My sexuality felt, to me, to be something impersonal, a force in its own right with its own primeval logic.
The next day i greeted my brother with equanimity. I had, through the fevered turbulence of the night the mind precipitated, cohered my chaos in the subfusc dawn. If he was going to have an engagement with this woman then accepting it was a necessity i had to exercise. I didn't feel envy because unconsciously i knew that this would eventually materialize. I knew my sibling too well to trust his instinct for stability. He would never, given the fortuitous though inadmissible nature of our intersection, find the completion he sought from life. I was a mere in between or a go between before he found his space. To content myself with the irrevocability of this fact was painful but, due to my foresight, bearable. I was aware that our time together was transitory and i was, though, inwardly chagrined, fine with that.
So as my brother's engagement proceeded another personality in me surfaced. It was the hostess personality, the calm, solicitous hostess, sensitive to and ministering to the needs of those around me. I was aware of the material nature of the demands but in discord with the inward essence. I had shut myself off in a cocoon of no feeling. Like a somnambulist i proceeded desultorily and mechanically, performing the tasks that ,as a sister, befell me, to prepare for the engagement party.
When the ceremony of ring exchanging occurred i felt a sharp pang in my heart. Suddenly my mind was a confusing jumble of disconnected though piquant memories of the relationship i had hitherto enjoyed. With a smile plastered on my face i underwent the curious concatenation of causality and logic that landed me, inexorably, into a realization of my lonesome state and the tough task of rebuilding my life from scratch.
When another person has assumed centrality in one's life, the self effaces itself or loves itself through the aegis of the other considering that that aegis is the self's own projection. I had expected from my brother a love that reaffirmed the love i sought for myself. And that love existed in a vacuum of non being. To discover love i'd have to find myself again, minus the narcissism of my former constructions. A formidable feat but one which, with sufficient assiduity, is realizable.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015


Begotten by you
Unravelling from
The effluvium of your
Desire, i desire curling
Back, into the very phallus
you extricate me from.
My ravenous soul
Ingests your inveiglings
Only to spit them out
As the detritus of
Your misbegotten aegis
That begot me.
Yet, unsuppressed
And yearning, for
That which you both are
And are not, that which
Is entombed in your form
Yet exists outside it,i
Warble with a longing unassailable.
Your form centres me inasmuch
As your being i ricochet from.
Could this alternation root me
In the hinterland of the impermissible
Or spawned and projected as fantasies
Acted out without and within.
I negate you but choose your blueprint
In him i lived out what, with you i couldn't
Into him i slough off your remnants
Bringing back full circle
A desire unsated and insatiable.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015


When i heard he had died in a car accident the precarious edifice of my self containment dissolved. I was numb with shock yet thinking calmly. While my benumbed body thawed gradually my mind became a compendium of associations, thoughts and reminiscences. It was a phalanx that was assorted randomly. Later on, thinking back, i could think of no causal connection with which these associations unravelled. A consciousness within me, yet beyond me, had taken hold of me. Though i witnessed its unfurling chaos with detachment as though a part of me, extricated from the immediacy of my predicament, needed this impersonal deliberation to cope.
We'd been particularly close as children though after our teenage we drifted apart. The world my brother and i inhabited seemed ephemeral yet it is in its evanescent moments that i find my most durable memories. Our young adulthood was a blur, it passed us by with a haste that was unforeseeable because while we lived and inhabited that moment we did so with utmost intensity and passion. It is with the distance adulthood induces that makes those august days, or should i say, salad days, take on the tincture of romance. And romance, of a sort, it most certainly was.
After our teenage couplings and comminglings he became detached. He withdrew from me. He never married but maintained a dour, stoical, impersonality which bothered me deeply. I had been accustomed to his passionate nature, his ardent, thriving, throbbing teenage lubricious energy. It all seemed deflated , dissipated. It seemed that, when we incestuously blended, a part of him was indissolubly entombed in me. Such, at the very least, was his unconscious misgiving, unarticulated but immutable. I sensed it, felt its insinuating shadows rendering my self sufficiency penumbral. But there wasn't much i could do about it.
I never entered into this relationship knowing that it wouldn't have consequences.We were surreptitious enough to get away with it. And nothing untoward happened. I wasn't thinking of contravening a natural law or breaking a taboo. I just didn't think in those terms. From brother to lover seemed a natural and ineluctable progression . And who else but on my brother could i give form to the contraband nature of my yearnings and desires. I think part of the reason he withdrew from me was that he is heterosexual. I wonder what concupiscent impulse propelled him into this relationship. Was it ennui or disillusion? Was it a desire to propitiate me which i find extremely unlikely. Or was it that , with his inveterate propensity towards depression he found, through the sex act, a semblance of life which ratified the reason for him to exist. But it did take a part of himself out of him. Or rather it reverted him, after this anomalous lapse into life, into the crepuscular antechamber of unutterable grief.
So now he's dead and the hypothesis of suicide has been tentatively given knowing that three witnesses saw him drive off the kerb into the ravine. Whether his death is self willed or fatalistic i feel a sense of relief mingled with dismay. The guilt of dispossession he wrought in me, with his distancing, is loosening a bit. I valedictorily commemorate our fortuitous intersections with a gladsome realization that i survived and that too emotionally . Such survival is, even in the shadow of mortality, adequate recompense.

Monday, March 9, 2015


The fact that i was a young girl was inescapable to me. As also was the fact that he was a boy. In retrospect, this gender binary, which, by the way, i found completely arbitrary played out in our relationship. I was disallowed many of the things he was. I felt envy about his realm of experience not because i found it irresistibly attractive but because i could not share in it. And i was voracious in my desire to access spaces in life i never could by dint of my femininity and experience. I have no doubt that he was so enraptured by what he saw in his world that he deemed it irrelevant to get a glimpse into mine. His sense of worldview seemed indubitably true to him.
Which is why i recall that night with perfect horror. Though horror, incidentally, was only a part of what i felt. That night he came and fucked me.His ministrations were tender though it was a tenderness prompted out of a desire to realize his unconscious fantasies than out of consideration for me. He had worked out the mechanism beforehand, the accoutrements of pleasure seeking and i was but a conduit, a facilitator to that. That my subjectivity was notional, incontrovertibly allied to my archetypal femininity than me, was no doubt the precipitating factor. But i , his sister entombed this femininity in a specific relationship to himself which redoubled the contraband nature of our intersection.
All these retroactive insights couldn't obviate the fact that i felt a tantalizing thrill. The contraband taboo that intensified his desire conflagarated mine too . I hadn't thought through the implications of what this meant . Though, in his aegis, i was but a conduit i felt desire even as a conduit, perhaps even because i was a conduit. I effaced myself, absolved myself of all culpability. And culpability implies the same moral register whose arbitrariness i alluded to earlier. And i have always felt equivocal about any moral certainties.
Ultimately though it was not the incest which proved rancorous but the inevitability of my deracination. His unmindfulness about the consequences of his visitations of flesh on me, his unawareness that it might ramify for me is unpredictable ways upset me . Was he so consumed by the vision of his own desire? Or was it that, me, as a female, was expendable. There was no cruelty in his demeanour towards me and if anything he was always solicitous. So imputations of brutality would be incorrect. But the indifference , the convenience in his overlooking that i was not only his sister but a female, irked me the most.
Perhaps my femininity and consaguinary bond blended into appendages for him. Right from childhood he'd never acknowledge me a separate existence from himself. I was 'his sister', as though i was begotten by him. I felt this primal relationship keenly and often struck out in futile attempts to reassert my own singularity.
I have managed somehow better now than then. Time has separated us in many ways. When we meet at our parents he often entreats me for a coupling where i never felt myself but which was so constitutive of my young adulthood. Even now it is not moral considerations that move me. I fear, more than anything, a plunge into that primordial vortex . I know what i'm capable of and this time around, were i to succumb, there'd be no turning back.