The divergence of her hair went unnoticed. Her mane, like a jet black waterfall entered a room before she did. She didn’t like it. Waking up with shorter hair every fortnight, it wouldn’t surprise her that her mother had cut her hair at night. She didn’t like it. Voices were raised every evening over her hair and how her denial towards it was nothing but insolent behavior mixed with a ting of madness.
She liked that.
The wind danced through Meera’s hair. The hands of the air tangled it into knots and the galore of the whistling whisper of the trees only provoked the insanity in her. Resting her hand above her head on the cold steel she swung her leg by a dangerous angle at the water 50 meters below. She giggled as the vapors of cold droplets splashed upwards. The sky blended with the sea separated only by a thin wisp of red clouds. The waves curled and uncurled under the bridge with spurts of white foam that bubbled around the pillars. The crashing of the water, like the beating of drums overwhelmed the silent lull of the bridge.
Meera’s identity lay in her hair. Walking in the hallways people would touch it and pull it without permission. It had even been checked at the airport. “Oh look at that” was heard oh so often she woke up every morning to the echoes of the anthem. She was no Rapunzel. But a freak with hair that were now part of her name and no prince would want to climb up it.
Every day since her 5th year of life, it was starting to make her angry. Angry enough to break articles and immerse in bouts of anxiety.
But her hair was a part of her. She had learnt to carry it. Caress it and love it like a new born child. But now she had to let it go. Her beautiful black hair that fell in thick ropes of knotted hair resting heavily on her head. That flapped occasionally when she peeked outside her car window to breath in a little of freedom. It was just a part of her madness she loved. But now it was time for her to be truly free.
A shiny pair of scissors would have done the deed, but she chose the easier way. The way that would release the worldly bounds of selfish desire and integrity to please. She had a dream that she could fly. And now she was set to fulfill it. Her insanity was victorious and now it was time to rejoice.
She pulled the hair tie out of her hair and swung it into the water. Meera smiled. The glorious smile of a maniac winner after a victory. The lunatic smile. A crazy grin. A happy smirk. Then a snort of denial. Meera believed that it would end and he would be happier when it wasn’t real.
So she flung herself into the air, hands wavering and legs shaking. Her hair like a fishing net thrown into the sea and a genuine smile on her face radiating with madness. She fell across the dark red horizon, she fell with trust because she believed she could fly.