The Vampire Within

There was a period in my life when I regarded myself as the personification of perfection.  When I grew out of it I realised that the pretension was a subconscious ploy to conceal the painful conflicts within.  It took years and a lot of people’s relentless jabs and prods for me to come to terms with the insecurity feelings that haunted my inner being like a bloodsucking vampire. 

When I exorcised the vampire from my being, I found myself withdrawing from society altogether.  I realised with some horror how unfit I was in the society: incapable of understanding people’s underlying motives and meanings and hence incapable of dealing with them without hurting myself. 

Solitude becomes a soothing balm when you learn to accept it as your co-traveller.  There’s a young friend, however, who draws out words from me occasionally.  During one of the long conversations I had with this friend, I asked, “What is there in common between you and me that holds us together?”  Pat came the reply, “Insanity.”

I was both amused and consoled.  The young friend is aware of the vampire within us.  I realised with much amusement that exorcism does not drive out the inner vampire.  The vampire is me.  I’m sucking my own blood.  I have no escape from it.  I cannot escape from myself.  I can only keep the vampire on leashes made of such diaphanous things as thoughts and words. 

PS. Written for Indispire Edition 196: #theperfectme

Note on the pictures: The top one is from my backyard and the bottom one is from Nisargadhama forest in Kodagu.