The Farce of Being

She stood behind the red curtains, her eyes closed. She took a deep breath to compose herself, looked up and exclaimed:

“Let the magic begin!” The ultimate game of illusion.

“A devious game of manipulation, and it has to be perfect to the T”, she said to herself.

It has to be discreet and smart to hoodwink the smartest, for what good did being vulnerable do to her?

The truth though cannot be compromised. Let it begin with a lie if it must be absolutely necessary, but the truth may eventually see the light of the day, whenever the time is right.

But till then it has to be an illusion, she had decided. A fancy word for the farce of her being. A projection of self, giving people exactly what they would like to see and understand for their ease. A projection of the ultimate balanced mind. It is no Herculean task to attain that.

Like the true magician she is, she just had to pull out the fancy hat from behind and wear it. And just like that she had eased smoothly into another character, thus beginning the farce of her being to the bystanders. She could be whoever she wanted. She could slip in and out of characters at the snap of her fingers at her whim to her spectators delight. All she had to do was detach.

In midst of all the deception, she had the privacy of her mind. She sighed. “This is not how it was supposed to turn out”, she spoke to her conscience acknowledging its discomfort. But magic makes it look so special and unrealistically beautiful that it becomes an unhealthy addiction.

She was told the world, her world can take it all. She believed it and gave it a try only to find herself slip and threw her hands out to break her fall on the ground. The world did not need more pain than it already had. It had limited tolerance. And that broke her heart, but only for a bit.

She always had herself to her rescue. She was there for the world’s amusement, her own way to be there for its rescue whenever it was in pain. She could take it all in. She had the capacity that her world was devoid of. That is when she had decided, she had to bring out the fancy hat and just wear it. She will work her magic of persuasion on them. It would be discreet and they would never know.

She would speak less. Her words would be chosen carefully. Her actions would be precise and practiced. The magician has to be careful to not break the sense of splendour and let her spectators be at ease.

That is her farce of being.

She would be nothing but an illusion. 
—..

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