Cynthia was lying on bed, idly staring off at the ceiling, yet haunted by a myriad of thoughts. She hadn’t a moment of peace since morning on this day of perpetual downpour, as if the sky too was melancholic like her—shedding tears. Her brother was just beside her, immersed into his phone.
“I had a dream.” She uttered reluctantly. Her brother was busy scrolling through his social media feed. No reply came.
“See this ceiling fan? I saw myself hanging off of it. You were watching me, laughing, telling me how much worthless and pathetic piece of shit I am.” She felt a lump in her throat as she said all those words. Her brother was astonished hearing those words, but chose not to react.
“You should stop watching all those horror films, Cynthia,” he casually replied, oblivious to how much it hurt her.
“I’ll stop it once and for all. All you have to do is get me a rope to hang myself.” She lashed out louder than she meant. His brows furrowed.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Cynthia?” He raised his voice, and she got extremely furious from his comment.
“Do you think I’m joking?!” She yelled at him.
His brother suddenly grew very concerned about her sister; captured her in arms and caressed her, hoping she’d calm down.
“Some day, you would see me lying on the streets, raped by someone.” She spoke painfully against his chest.
“Cynthia!” He almost cried. “Cynthia, please tell me what happened. Why are you acting like this? It’s been a whole fucking week, you’ve been acting strange. Did a boy do something to you? I’ll track him down, and send him to gates of hell!’
“No, it’s not. It’s just me who is pathetic. I-I’ll kill myself, and free you, mother and father from the burden of dealing with me. I’m just… I’m cursed to be born.” She snivelled against his chest.
He feels very helpless at this moment. His sister, the only one on this earth who truly understands him, is in deep distress. He forgot all morality for a moment. Her face flushed crimson from the contact of their lips. He realised what he had done and became quite horrified, but it was too late for they had already given to temptation. His hands insidiously crept in his sister’s boy-shorts, splayed over the hairy nether; index finger traced the contours of her damp nether. She shivered beneath him with each stroke, purring in need—need for her own brother. She freed herself from the burden of clothes—all of those she wore—one by one. Circumstances placed two siblings to explore the depths of their love, their bond which they harboured from childhood. Cynthia pulled his brother’s shorts down, exposing his throbbing length to her hungry eyes, prompting her to worship it. She hovered over the newly erected tower, first titillating its tip to touch against her drenched nether lips still shut like the caress of a feather. She held her breath, as if a diver about to go into deep waters; then in one go, dived in, filling herself brim with him. A little blood rolled down on the first entry, a little pain to her, but it was nothing compared to the ecstasy she revelled in. Her brother was stupefied to see his sister in her true glory she was born with, hidden away in clothes from this decadent world that seeks to violate her. Her voluptuous black tresses, he couldn’t resist burying his hands in. She propped her on arms, splaying fingers over his chest as she danced in rhythm of oneness. His curious hands cupped her breasts, that hung like ripe fruits from a tree—a tree meant to bear and produce life. She a fierce soul, gripped his throat, pushing them to newer heights of their wanton journey towards union. Captive in such an ecstatic moment, he hadn’t realised that he already came, filling her womb brim with his seed—his children to be, which he knows he has to cruelly murder with the poison of birth control. She withdrew, and parted her folds to expel his seed as it rolled down her walls—viscous as if nectar. Cynthia nursed her brother’s limp organ, giving it a few pecks as a token of her everlasting affection.
This story—a depiction of herself in an upcoming life—had been orated in Bengali (c. 1972) to Santacharya by his spiritual consort Cynthia during his stay in the Junglemahals. She also recited an accompanying poem (the following one), which has been translated from Bengali to English.
I met a lad once, too shy for his own good
Shattered his soul, I wanted so soothe.
I, with my charms, awakened in him a desire
A passion so wanton; crackling like fire.
Then kissed his mouth, and then his neck
Then trailed down, I, leaving soft pecks.
Down the pelvis, awaited a dark organ
Blew it splendidly, as if a musician!
Sat on him, then hooked in me his anchor
His eyes shut supine—a beautiful splendour!
Souls joined together, our minds in trance
To show my grace, I was ready to dance
I rode him, hard; rode to the brim
From my swollen lips, dripped down his cream.
— Cynthia, c. 1972