Confessions of a boy

Those were days of struggle ; each leaf added to the tree. I waited each night, outside the trembling hut, waiting to see a lonely traveller in need of food or accommodation. “A man can sleep outside”, I remembered my mother’s voice when I initially started sleeping out, shaking and screaming at night in fear. That me doesn’t exist anymore. Of course, that mother too. Living alone, I had to fend for myself alone, but living-in all my life, I didn’t know the kind of work other men did. All I knew was to take care of the house and surroundings, to weave baskets out of wires, and to knit baby clothes. “What woman would like you?” my old mother would ask during her last days. I’d sit there like a good daughter-in-law, listening to the taunts at her husband’s home. Sadly, they expected me to bring a wife home. How do I tell them, that I’d rather be married off?

Note : New Series

I’ll be starting a new series where I’d use a picture and a corresponding story excerpt of my own. Of course, the picture would be mine too. Please feel free to give me your responses

Bunshin, 分身

They say the you in me hides behind the I that they can see.

How can I kill me and make you the only me?

For I am not me, they say.

For centuries, we have remained shadows of each other,

Constantly contemplating: “Is it you or I?”

Centuries more were spent on deciding

Who is the Ophelia and who the Sita is.

Can we exist together in two different worlds?

Or do we take turns?

 

Bunshin, he called us.

We were shunned, neglected and looked down upon.

Anomalies, as we were, and against nature.

Those were our tags.

Were we proud?

Maybe not.

Maybe.

Yes.

We were.

分身

 

And like that we walked across the veins and forests.

Bathed in blood, we swam out of the arteries.

Murderers, they called us.

But we said.

“Bunshin.”

“分身”

 

Linked by Karma, we were now tied through our souls.

Knotted a thousand times around your neck

As you hang dead from the ceiling of your cave.

We ate your flesh and drank your blood.

That does not make you Christ

And nor are we your disciples.

We are your slayers; that is the truth.

 

Marching towards our kingdom, we roared.

Bunshin!

分身!

Taking our revenge as we climbed to the throne,

We reached up to the man who ruled and asked him:

“Do you know who we are?”

“No”, he trembled.

“We were once violated by your words and deeds.

You called us lesser mortals.

So we decided to become gods for you.

So that you would know what it means to be less,

And not more.

You gave us our name

To deride us,

But we used it to unmake you.

We truly became our alter egos

To seek our soul’s revenge

We became Bunshin.

分身.”

©
P.S. I have been asked a number of times about the meaning of Bunshin so here it is: Bunshin means a doppelganger, so to say. But here, it’s more like a doppelganger of the soul. Or at least that’s what I was imagining. The rest is up to your mind. Thank you! 🙂