By Thushanthi de Silva
Her name was Maya. She was a makeup artist. It didn’t start out as a hobby. It started as a way of making her mother feel better. When she had asked Maya to apply foundation over the deep red welts on her back, she obliged. As the years passed, they grew-welts, bruises and sometimes even cuts- and so did Maya’s ability to cover them up successfully. She would figure out how to achieve exactly the right shade to make the marks disappear, the right way to brighten up anguished eyes, and lift a drooping mouth.
She never understood why her mother tolerated all that abuse from a man, why she continued to love him. But what she couldn’t repair inside, she fixed outside.
Today she was famous for her talent, sought after. And when they asked her about how she got there, she would truthfully answer “My mother encouraged me”.
Thushanthi is a (late) twenty something who doesn’t like labels. She has been writing since she was a child, but mostly for her own pleasure. Appreciation from others is just a bonus. Some of her poetry can be seen here