First of all She is a Helmet.
Designed for defense.
To keep things out and not let things in.
Right now She is empty.
She doesn’t even have a Head to protect… which is Her form of loving.
She cannot climb on her own on to the Head she loves. She has to wait till the Head’s hands pick her up and puts her on.
The Head also does not really feel her except in a familiarly
Because He wears her habitually and has not woken to the awareness of the difference she makes between His life & death. I mean of course, he has-through driving manuals, road safety promos etc .
But the truth is, He still does not really feel for Her on his own,
But She is glad that at least He wears Her; And that She has Him to fulfill the very purpose of Her existence.
So when She is alone, Her empty red lips through which Her beloved one’s eyes look out into the busy streets of the world, lies parted but void .
Through them a soft sob rises in a strange song…
Soul songs are always sung solo.
A song that no one hears around the commotion of traffic lights by day ;That no one hears in the dead of the city- night buzzing with the sound of street lamps and the gang wars of the dogs.
Moral: Helmets must realise they are not meant to be seen, only worn.
*Binusha sent a photo she had shot in our WhatsApp group this morning. The helmet, blind, with its mouth open to the sky, was a perfect trigger, for it matched a particularly distressing mood that had come to roost in my heart from the previous night
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