She opened the diary. Re-read the pages. It seemed like whimsical writings of an adolescent.
January 12, 2001- the lady graduated from college; easy, fun-loving, skeptical, cynical and childishly prudent. Eagerly waiting to embark on a journey to know the outside world.
October 21, 2004- the lady has finished her academic career; uneasy, restless, uncertain, discreet and sluggish. Unemployed and exhausted by the surrounding.
June 9, 2007- the lady has become an architect. Shapes and sizes of neo-liberal buildings have given a purpose to her life. Now she blends in victorian structures with local cosmopolitan architecture.
August 17, 2011- the lady decides to share her life. Her partner is an archaeologist ; whom she acquainted 7 years ago during a casual conversation over archaeology, in the national museum. It was a childhood dream, an adolescent hobby. Archaeology garnered her a lifelong muse.
She closed the diary. The writer is alien to her.
September 19, 2015- the lady is going to be a mother. She is 6 months pregnant today. Her fears have come back to haunt. Something is growing inside her. What is “It”? What to call “It”? What to teach “It”? Should she make “It” aware of the prejudices, the divide? Soon “It” will be a “He” or “She”. A biological difference, a difference of pronoun or a difference of life? Is anyone really living in this world? Aren’t we passing our time in this prejudiced realm to garner access to another realm? Isn’t our lives a struggle to blur these perceptions? Is she giving birth to life or death? Aren’t those living , struggling to live?
December 16, 2015- she gave birth to life. Her son has become a life. Buried in the fertile soil.
She closed the diary once again. “It” remains to be re-opened.