IN A SPIRAL

I walk on that rickety bridge again, tiptoeing ever so mildly to rewind time, to rewrite great many chunks of heartbeats and on a quest for answers. The surging waters below are on their merry journey, a mist of spray and foam in the air in their enthusiastic trail. I've only managed to turn back the pages on my journal in my limited human capacity.

What once began as a rosy project to capture the idyllic and vintage when I first started out on the April layout, turned out to be a ghastly summer of 2025. Barely had I got a foothold from the dizzying heights of the ill-fated 2024, only to step on a landmine ??!

A Bed Of Roses…. what had I prophesized?

It's now a shrine staring at me ever so solemnly. In this garden of eulogy, I’ve made the pages come alive with a swarm of butterflies in as many shapes, sizes and colours I could. Not at all randomly placed but on each date which marks a significant ritual…

And then there are some days in April which are remembered most fondly for the birthdays, anniversaries and milestones it brings, but now the very same dates bizarrely coincide with the most unfortunate of happenings in a freak jest of the Universe!

April was our month! We owned April! And yes, we still do for better or for worse. In all our joys and all our sorrows.

Daddy loved us so much that he couldn't let go of April. Just to say—”Hey! I'm with you all!” But this is not what I bargained for

And there without a break on the surface of the glacial crystal clear lake we have the 10th (Daddy's last day) 11th,12th( A wedding anniversary and a birthday in the family)…and then in a mix bag of emotions there is the 13th of April which is Babylou's birthday and the date my Daddy's cremation !

I mean, what are the odds that one's life unfolds as a cliched movie script! For the life of me I still can't wrap my head around this uncanny play of days and dates!

Dear Universe, how do you curate these plots?

While the blinding dust around me takes an infinity to settle down, I meander through it cautiously. The bridge stands its grounds challenging me to walk ahead.

While the butterflies shine and flutter on my journal pages, it's devoid of all other markings and notes. An incomplete month…an unfinished project, the transience and impermanence of it all is the theme of my April 2025.

COVER PICTURE COURTESY PINTEREST

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Sangeetha Kamath

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