By Vidya Rajagopalan
Dear diary,
I write to you not as a spiller but as a companion
Entry:370
I don’t know whether to squeal at the amalgamation or to frame my tears on the loss of my identity, this being the non-consensual marriage
The very day my mind built its bricks from insecurity, it crumbled as I crumpled you when I abrogated my promise to confide in you
Entry:377
Now we can hug and kiss as the whirlpool was decriminalised due to its magnitude
But what about our swirling complexities? Our bubbling existence and our acknowledgment ? Moreover what do the waves profess by which we will accepted as a blended hue?
Entry:15
I thought the blindfolded Lady Justitia
Would smack us into epiphany with her books and pelt us into equilibrium with her scales
But little did I know that the crosses and the moons and the Om’s would slice her as a scapegoat to their fiascos
Now books remain a manuscript to marvel at and the weights vying for pessimism to entice them
When will equality claim its limelight with morality being the quilling author in this plot ?
Diary I know you will never blow me with proof that humanity exists but I’d love a sign right before my eyes that:
The whisper of the wind could breathe mindfulness in a State’s peacefulness
The wind chimes signifying the next discovery of apple’s momentum
A flip of your heart will complete me in sighs
Yours,
Your reflection