.
So the Banshee is so crazy wild and berserk that oftentimes, the people of this world try to exorcise her ghosts and demons, but as this story kind of indebted to Exorcist for its name in the Pena journal from Tamil Nadu tells you, they rarely succeed. Infact they do not succeed. Just the way Savage Garden's "I knew I loved you before I met you" is just Sylvia Plath's 'Mad Girl's Love Song' with slightly different words. Complete solipsism, like the banshee herself. You can read it here.
Exorcism
Flannel was in the throes of a profound passion. She was queer.
She was autistic. And she had been in an autistic, passionate, obsessive, unrequited love for almost twenty years. This
kind of love grew in absentia. It did not even need physical contact. It grew
and it grew and it grew like Jack's beanstalk without any incentive. Everyone, including her unrequited love herself, had tried every means possible to exorcise
the ghost of the past: they had scolded her, complained against her, punished
her, banned her, excluded her, taunted her and spread tales about her. Aloe
Vera's ghost inside Flannel. They had even gone to the police. However, all
these attempts to exorcise the ghost had persistently failed. Her queer
autistic passionate obsessive lifelong unrequited love showed no signs of
waning. She was a torrential waterfall, defying all and nothing deterring her. It was as if Flannel was against the whole world, yet she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The ghost had possessed her and refused to be
exorcised. She sat there chanting "Aloe Vera Aloe Vera Aloe Vera ". When in pain, she said Aloe
Vera , when she was in fear, she said Aloe Vera , when she was hungry, sleepy, frustrated, exhausted or anything at all, she said Aloe
Vera. It was her autistic stim. It had also become an OCD. Sometimes this ghost
of Aloe Vera's possessed her. It was like a force outside of her, over which
she had no control. Flannel herself did not like the OCD, though she felt that
as a stim, it was quite cute. The OCD happened if she was exceptionally
strongly upset and became like a stammering “A-A-Al---- Al--oe” It was difficult to even say Aloe at such times. But Flannel hated it when this
happened. But it only happened during a phase when she was exceedingly upset. The
woman had literally become her first and foremost instinctive thought.
Sometimes she said it out loud, sometimes she subvocalised it, whatever
satisfied her. The ghost inside her. Sometimes it seemed that nothing did.
Flannel was growing crazier by the day and called herself a
lunatic. She was like a small baby who wanted her mother all day long. A
devotee worshipping her ideal god. Banning, excluding, complaining and
taunting, nothing could stop Flannel from saying Aloe Vera. The only means that
had not yet been tried was torture. Aloe Vera had been Flannel's teacher, once
upon a long-lost time. Flannel had been a newbie in a strange place, and had
found it difficult to adjust among her peers as she was very different. She
felt like she was an alien among humans. She didn’t, or rather couldn’t, dance,
couldn’t watch films, couldn’t even wear jeans. How was she to make any friends
at all. Moreover, Flannel couldn’t regulate her own emotions so they kept
spilling all over the place. Moreover, Flannel came with a history of childhood
trauma. Although she found the new place strange, she didn’t want to go back to
that step-mother either. She wanted to make the new place her home. But how this
was to be done, she had no idea. Now Flannel had asked Aloe Vera for help. Aloe
Vera, as her name suggested, was ever cool and soothing like a balm. True to
her name, Aloe Vera had acted as a panacea for Flannel. She had comforted all
her aches and pains, she had given Flannel all the validation she needed, and
she had been as sweet as sugar. Flannel had loved their time together and even
their shared silences so much that she had gotten addicted to them and had fallen
in love with Aloe Vera. However, there was one very important characteristic of
the magical Aloe Vera which autistic Flannel failed to understand. Distance.
Aloe Vera was super particular about distance and personal space but autistic
Flannel did not understand these. Now, however soothing an Aloe plant is, it is
considered bad luck to keep it inside the house because it has thorns like a
cactus. This means that you shouldn’t get too close to an Aloe or embrace the
Aloe, despite its balm. Whereas an Aloe Vera usually blooms with bright
red-orange coral flowers, it stops flowering when you keep it indoors, too
close to you. When Flannel began to stick too much to Aloe, Aloe Vera had
stopped flowering, and had instead attacked Flannel with her thorns. These
thorns had pierced Flannel sharply and cruelly. Flannel on her part was like
flannel, she was soft and warm like wool with a fine layer of downy hairs
covering her. She liked getting close to people and cosying and snuggling up. Now
people around spread all kinds of taunts and false allegations because it was
easy for them to understand Aloe Vera but they couldn’t understand why Flannel
was so weird. Aloe Vera had become Flannel’s obsessive special interest and she
couldn’t leave her. Moreover, she saw Aloe as her mother.
In the midst of all these tall tales and those glances and
grimaces of utter disgust and disdain that she would get from people, there
stood one apart, like the evening star in the sky. This person was Aloe Vera's
husband. He was never mean. He had never been unkind to Flannel, not once. Many
people couldn't even imagine this. They told Flannel that Aloe Vera's husband
would be the most dead-set person against her, out of all the people in the
world. But only Flannel knew that gaze — that gaze — of curiosity, but never of
judgement. That gaze — which even when grave, looked more like that of a teacher or a parent who would look at a child who bunked school. But
it was in no way a look of scorn or contempt, or even disrespect. It was a face
which looked ashamed and red in the face even when it had no reason to be so.
It was a face which tried to avoid Flannel embarrassment and awkwardness. The
result of this profound gaze amidst all the derision was that it had seeped
into Flannel's soul. Now Flannel was obsessed with this gaze. The gaze was with
her, constantly and always, no matter where she was. This gaze of non-judgement
had become a balm for her wounded soul. Flannel felt that if people knew about
her observer gaze, they would consider her even more of a lunatic. There was
never a time when her observer gaze was not with her. She was constantly the
object of this gaze. He listened to everything she said. Perhaps that is why
she talked to herself all the time. She felt he was listening. Sometimes it was
Aloe Vera who listened. At times it was another teacher. But he, Aloe Vera 's
husband, was always always observing Flannel, no matter where she was, in
whichever city, in her most private moments, in the dead of the night.
Sometimes this gaze turned judgemental and then Flannel couldn't bear it
anymore. It was traumatic. That is why she kept him as her observer. He seemed
kinder, gentler. Non-judgemental. A remarkable feat indeed, thought Flannel,
for someone whose wife you had stalked, when every tom, dick and harry was quick to reject, shun,
pass judgement, make false accusations and spread malicious lies. This gaze was
a coping mechanism she had developed to deal with Aloe Vera 's absence and loss
in her life. But Flannel's mind had created this gaze unconsciously. It was not
a voluntary gaze. She was forever its victim and its object. When the gaze was
judgemental, she was tormented by it, but never ever could she escape from this
gaze which held her captive. She tried to reclaim agency and to keep the kind
gazes in her head only. What she called her favourite-gaze. Why should she
torture herself day and night, she thought. Did they not torture her enough
already? The only saving grace, the only barrier left between her and utter
madness, Flannel thought to herself, was that at some level of her
consciousness, she knew it wasn't real. She knew it the way she had read in
books that the earth was round. She had, after all, never herself seen the
earth being round, had she? If she ever saw Aloe Vera or Aloe Vera's husband anywhere, she would not
actually expect them to know all the conversations she had with herself. Though
even when she typed messages on her phone, she had this sense of someone
sneak-peeking over her. For Flannel, her
fantasy was the reality, and the actual reality was something she had to try to
imagine, and so completely would it overwhelm her, that she thankfully escaped
back into her fantasy within seconds.
Flannel also dressed like
Aloe Vera . Her kohl-darkened eyes and her long dangling earrings were like Aloe
Vera 's. Her black wiry hair was already like Aloe Vera 's and nothing brought Flannel
more comfort than the knowledge of this fact. She wound up her hair and put it
up in a bun, like Aloe Vera , with a metal stick, like Aloe Vera . The metal
stick at the same horizontal angle like Aloe Vera 's. Her nose pierced like Aloe
Vera 's. With the same silver ring as Aloe Vera 's. The same silver rings in
all her fingers like Aloe Vera 's. A tattoo on her upper right arm, Like Aloe
Vera . Did she want to become Aloe Vera , the reader may well ask. Did she want
to embody Aloe Vera 's spirit in some way? Did she want to show that she shared
the same essence? How far was she trying to get at Aloe Vera 's core by
dressing like her? Was this a way in which she incorporated and preserved Aloe
Vera inside herself?
Flannel sometimes wondered
how she still called herself by her own name. It was abnormal, they said. Why
couldn't she simply forget about Aloe Vera and move on, like other normal people of the
world? Why did Flannel have to think about Aloe Vera every waking, sleeping,
and dreaming moment of her life? They failed to understand this. Aloe Vera 's
ghost possessed her in her sleep as well. Once she dreamt about lying in a
flower garden and sleeping with Aloe Vera . Once she dreamt of playing with Aloe
Vera 's legs. Once she planned to murder Aloe Vera in her dream. Once she dreamt that Aloe Vera was murdering her. Her utmost delight was to
dream of talking to Aloe Vera . Oh, she had innumerable dreams!
Now finally, when all attempts at exorcism failed, they tried
torture. They sellotaped Flannel's mouth to stop
her from saying Aloe Vera. Still Flannel's lips tried to move. They examined
it, measured it, recorded the number of times she tried to say it, doubly and
triply sellotaped her lips, made a calibrated system of rewards and punishments
and bribes to stop her from saying it. They decided to put Flannel's finger
into a hot flame every time she tried to say it. Of course, the fear and pain made Flannel
want to say Aloe Vera all the more, but that would be met with more
fire-burning and more Sellotape. Moreover, the latest was that they had brought
in a whole range of pins with which they were going to prick Flannel. These ranged from tiny pins and
needles to bigger instruments like compass
points. Syringes. In different parts of her body. Perhaps in her belly. Perhaps
the tongue might suit better if she proved utterly disobedient. Knives. A slash
of the wrist. Whatever they could think of and had at their disposal. She could
die in the process, but they would stamp Aloe Vera out of her if she was to be
left alive at all. They were pierced into her skin and just left
there. Perhaps this physical pain and torture was meant to rival and equal the
pain internally within her. Perhaps it was meant to create a rising crescendo
and transcend her emotional pain. Perhaps it was meant to serve as a
purification fire. The flames with which they tried to burn not only her
fingers and toes, but even her lips. As for her hair, it had been entirely
burnt. She was bald now. They knew that it was the pride of her life that her
hair was like Aloe Vera’s. Those people had made disgusting rumours that she
had hit her teacher with some huge metal object. It seemed they were using
these same metal objects on her now. What if they brought a bulldozer to simply
bulldoze her one day? They knew she had acrophobia. She was terribly scared of
heights. So they got this huge crane, put her in it, up up up the crane went.
And then they left her there alone for the night, up there, alone in the dark.
With her lips cellotaped and her hands tied so she couldn’t say Aloe Vera up
there alone. If even that didn't work, starvation was on the list. One meal cut
for each time she tried to even subvocalise her name. A lip-reader was called
to keep watch on her like a watchman or police. The entire day's meals
cancelled if she made even one attempt to put earrings or kohl like Aloe Vera. They
confiscated the items whenever they saw them and getting more was impossible
because they kept watch on her all the time. But what could they do about Flannel's
mind? How could they invent a machine, like a CCTV camera, which could keep
watch on the thoughts inside her head, surveil them and record them? Reading,
writing, music, films, art — all these were strictly forbidden for her. They
kept watch on her as if in prison. That wasn't difficult to do. Flannel would
have killed herself but they had barred windows and removed ceiling fans and
taken every precaution to ensure that she could not do so. She wanted to die by
eating the Oleander plant but surely they saw to it that there was no way for
her to access it. All this made Flannel want to indulge in a very autistic
activity. An observer had once described it as rocking. She basically had to
lie, face down, on her bed, and vigorously rub her clitoris on the bed. But do
you think they gave her the satisfaction of doing even this? Of course they did
not. Flannel was out of her wits and ready to scream. Sometimes, when she
got very tensed and couldn't control it, Flannel's hands became very stiff and
tensed, fingers apart. Her hands started shaking. At times, her whole body
began trembling. At such times, they beat her hands black and blue and stuffed
them in ice to numb them. They would probably love to stuff the whole of her in
ice, to make all feeling go away if they could.
However, they realised that there was no way they could stop Flannel
from thinking, no matter how much they tried to coerce her lip movement. She
said Aloe Vera in thought. It gave her strength to survive the torture. Banning
reading, writing, music, films, art could not drive away Aloe Vera from Flannel's mind. And the
observer gaze had become a permanent fixture in her head. 24*7*52*20. And she
would survive days and days of starvation but she would still attempt to dress
like Aloe Vera . Or she wouldn't dress at all and stay in her night clothes all
day. She was getting thinner and paler and sicklier and sicklier. She had a
tattoo on her arm. At least they couldn’t take this away. For now they had put
plaster over it and hidden it and she couldn’t see it but she had the comfort
of knowing it was there. Who knows they might try to remove it through laser
treatment?
They tried their best. They tried it all. They made full use of the pins and
needles and the metallic instruments of torture. They starved her mercilessly.
No food at all. Only two glasses of water a day to keep her alive. The Sellotape
never ever came off the lips now. And finally, finally, they gave up. For the
moment, at least. They were at their wits end about what to do. It was like the machines in Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Which, ironically, Aloe Vera had shown them
in college once. In fact, she had shown them Exorcist as well. All
attempts at exorcising Aloe Vera 's ghost failed. However, Flannel had a very
splintered mind. All this external repression had somewhere broken her and she
felt as if she was an insane lunatic. She was weird and didn’t belong in this
world. She went into deep depression. She felt very guilty about her thoughts
and her being as the external repression was somewhere internalised. However,
she tried to battle this guilt and self-repression. She actually had no choice
because it was impossible for her to drive away Aloe Vera from her mind. The
very thought of Aloe Vera brought her cooling, calming, healing freshness to
Flannel. This itself in large part, made her withstand the torture. And
finally, Flannel came out at the other end. Like the Flannel flower which is
known for its resilience in times of adversity and hardship and which is
therefore a symbol for mental health. Although she had nobody to be with,
rejoice with, play with, laugh with, live with. There was only without. And
yet, had Flannel herself not resisted every possible attempt when people told
her they would love her if it was not for her emotional infidelity, that is,
they offered to love her if she abandoned Aloe Vera. Because Aloe Vera was air
and water, oxygen and breath for her. How could she live without Aloe Vera? How
could she promise to abandon Aloe Vera for such an uncertain 'love', if it ever
worked out at all, which came with such an unutterable condition and at such
dire cost? And now, Flannel
suddenly burst forth in coral coloured orangeish-red blossoms like Aloe Vera’s.
Flannel’s own white blooms had taken on the colour of Aloe Vera’s. Aloe Vera
couldn’t bloom when too close to Flannel, but she was far away and she must be
blooming now, thought Flannel. In the meantime, Flannel, who had always tried
to dress like Aloe Vera and to be just like her, was now flowering with blooms,
the colour of Aloe Vera’s.
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