Hello. Nice to meet you. You’re the 13th person I’ve seen today. It’s probably because I look funny. Yes, that’s me. I’m a mask, as you can see. Not just any mask. I’m from the 18th century. I’m a mask that represents the spirit of a jealous woman. I look ugly, bald, horrid with a devilish smile and sharp golden horns. I have a pale body with a cruel smile and glinting red eyes. But I like it, a lot. It gives me attention. The other masks all look the same and they only get a second's glance. But me; someone drew me once. It wasn’t a very good drawing but it’s the thought that counts.
Originally I was made for a play. My owners used to travel around and perform wherever they could. The play was about these seven devils. I am, well, I was devil number three. Each devil represents one of the seven deadly sins. Gluttony, wrath, envy, greed, lust, pride and sloth. Devil number three is envy. This is why I was chosen for the jealous woman’s death mask. But it’s a funny story why I’m here. You want to know?
Nisha. Yes, that was her name. Not very French but you know - oh well. So. The jealous woman’s name was Nisha. Of course, this story almost starts like a fairy tale. She was very well off with a beautifully magnificent house and a lovely husband. She had everything you could ever want and so much more. Every woman wanted to be her and every man wanted someone as lovely as her. She was a proper house wife, doing the cooking and cleaning while her husband earned all the money. They were loved by their village and were very close to the mayor. That, in fact, is where the trouble began.
You see, the husband’s job was to move around the town getting to know everyone just like a friend. Then he would sell them things that they would think were of some big significance to him and so they paid him well. Little did they know, these were objects worth nothing. No significance or important history or expensive paint had been put on them. The worst thing was, they were both in it together. Nisha knew how much money was being made and why and what they had sold with which story of significance. She knew just as much as her husband did about the job, so, as you would expect her to, she knew all about it when her share of the money went down. Her husband said they were just going through a rough patch. And she believed him. For a bit. But her share of the money had gone down and was staying down and her husband could not care less.
He was too obsessed with himself, his money, his wealth and his appearance. She was being ignored and nobody seemed to notice. It drove her crazy. Well, I say that but she wasn’t crazy, just angry, and I suppose... jealous. And it built up every day - more and more. Until it cracked her. She was desperate to get her old husband back and wouldn’t rest until doing so. This took up time and all of her energy. She worked tirelessly and never gave in. It was like her human soul was being eaten alive by the devil.
She loved him at the beginning. Or so she said. She said she would never leave his side or do anything to harm him. Or so she said. She said the most important thing was him and the love they shared. I know for a fact that wasn’t true. She lived and loved him for as long as she could. But no... those days had to end. The amount of money she had was depleting faster and faster and all the time her husband seemed happier and happier without her. She tried so hard, she did, to keep her husband. Poor dear. She tried to pull her soul from inside the depths of the devil's mouth. She tried to bring her husband back. She tried to stay the same happy person she was before those dark days. But she changed. Her smile grew fake and polite. Her friends grew ever more distant. Her face was now almost always stuck in a frown. Her heart grew cold as ice and as hard to reach as the core of the earth. She and her husband slowly grew more distant until one day she couldn’t take it any more. That was the day I came to town.
She killed him. The most brutal murder she could muster. It almost brought her out of that protective shell she had fashioned for herself. They say she went mad. I say she became herself but with the memories of a thousand murderers. For the murder she committed she should have been hanged, but the village couldn’t bring themselves to that. Not for her. They locked her in a room and kept the key hidden. She grew ill from the lack of love and her disgusting little prison. The villagers took turns to look after her but she died a few months later. The village didn’t try and stop her spirit leaving her body, instead they took me from my home to commemorate this spirit of a jealous woman. I was taken from the village and placed over her decaying face. There and then I was named Nisha. After her. And that’s who I’ll always be.
She was laid in a boat, for all to see. The boat was small, badly made with a metal rim around the top. She was in a beautiful white flowing dress with flowers all around her. She was lying on a pile of coal and wood with the small worthless objects around her. With a small fire flickering at her feet, they sent me off into the water to float to a different shore. At the time I had no idea what was happening to me or where I would end up. All of a sudden, I was engulfed by flames of a rich gold and a deep red. I can still smell and see the smoke and hear the crackling of the flames and feel the heat on my body. It hurt. Too much to be true. I was screaming in agony and begging it to stop when the spirit of Nisha heard my voice and opened the skies for rain to come pelting down. Even now I can still hear the hissing of the coal going out and the drumming of the rain on the boat...
For days and days nothing happened to me. The body was slowly rotting under me while all I had for company were the creaks and moans of the small wooden boat. On the fourteenth night I felt a small bump jolt the boat. And we stopped. We lay there for another four hours waiting for someone to come and find us. And they did. Eventually. A face appeared over me and then retreated in fright. It wasn’t until after another hour that I saw that face again. With more faces. They picked up the boat and took it inside somewhere. It was musty, cold and dark until a very bright light passed over me, the boat and the rotting body. They picked me out and put me on top of a cabinet. It took a while for them to figure out what I was doing there and to find me a home - until they gave me to this museum right here. Look how amazing it is. I know other objects hate it here, but I love it. I suppose they’re just not interesting enough.
by Miriam Tillmann-Morris
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