[vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content” el_class=”img-holder-mob vc_hidden-lg vc_hidden-md”][vc_column offset=”vc_col-lg-offset-0 vc_hidden-lg vc_hidden-md” css=”.vc_custom_1495477918033{padding-right: 0px !important;padding-left: 0px !important;}”][vc_single_image image=”300″ img_size=”full” alignment=”center”][vc_column_text el_class=”photo-caption”]<\/p>\n
Demons\u2019 Child, Calcutta, photo by Rosalind Solomon, 1981<\/p>\n
[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row el_class=”img-holder-dsk vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][vc_column width=”2\/3″ offset=”vc_col-lg-offset-2 vc_hidden-sm vc_hidden-xs”][vc_single_image image=”300″ img_size=”full”][vc_column_text el_class=”photo-caption”]Demons\u2019 Child, Calcutta, photo by Rosalind Solomon, 1981[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1495474518621{margin-bottom: 40px !important;}” el_class=”mobile-padding”][vc_column width=”2\/3″ offset=”vc_col-lg-offset-2″ el_class=”essay-title”][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n
[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]Once, in the hottest hour of the day when everyone sensible was indoors, a little girl stole out alone. The sunlight blazed outside the one-room houses stuck together in a row. The treeless courtyard was full of almost-goddesses and almost-demons, waiting to be given their costumes.<\/p>\n
The sun shone hard. The girl squinted at the naked sun-bleached bodies of the almost-women.<\/p>\n
Their stony breasts and the blank space between their legs reminded her of something. She thought of what her mother had yelled at her that morning: \u201cBehave yourself, you\u2019re almost a woman!\u201d And a hand like an angry brown whip had flown out at the girl so that she had to duck and run.<\/p>\n
The sun was burning up everything.\u00a0 It set alight her mother\u2019s voice and reduced it to ash. It devoured slapping hands and other parts of bodies that flew at each other some nights. The sunlight\u2019s greedy jaws went to work on the rooms, the tattered body of the city resigned to the final blow.<\/p>\n
Then as the girl watched with grudging admiration, the sunlight\u2019s hunger breached the invisible wall that keeps real life safe from dream life.<\/p>\n
One of the almost-goddesses woke up; her beatific smile wavered. \u201cI had a nightmare,\u201d she said to the others. \u201cI dreamt they didn\u2019t make me the kind of goddess I want to be. The kind that kills demons and drinks their blood.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I had dreamt that,\u201d said an almost-goddess with a lovely long face and perfectly rounded breasts. \u201cI can\u2019t bear the waiting \u2013 why can\u2019t they hurry up and finish creating us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou pretty ones are so selfish,\u201d an almost-demon snarled. \u201cDo you have any idea how I feel? It\u2019s obvious I am going to be a demon. But will I grow a new head every time a fighting goddess chops off the old head? Maybe this brat\u2019s father and grandfather will make me a demon that will be scorned, mutilated and defeated in full public view. It\u2019s just not fair\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
And all of them turned to glare at the little girl as if she had the answers to their questions. She ran indoors and snuggled next to her mother, who sleepily put an arm around her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMa,\u201d whispered the girl, \u201cI don\u2019t want to be a goddess or a demon. I want to be a woman, just like you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her mother didn\u2019t stir. But the girl thought she heard a gravelly chuckle and the words \u201cGood luck!\u201d<\/p>\n
What did her mother mean? Did she have<\/em> to be a goddess or a demon? The question tired the girl so much that she fell asleep.<\/p>\n When she woke up, the sun was no longer so fierce and her mother was back to her everyday scolding self. Then the girl heard that some of the idols outside were going to be dressed up and taken away in a truck. The girl, as excited as any of the other children, ran outside.[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text el_class=”essay-subtitle”]<\/p>\n