It was not a secret for her family per se. But, ever since she was thirteen, she was expected to tuck away this little secret of hers in a tiny box and instead wear a garb of normalcy.

Although the attention that it had garnered in Samir’s social circle was a deterrent to an outright ban on writing, the downside was that Samir had carefully read every story, and given ‘suggestions’.

“Can I hug you?” I whispered. She nodded, and I held her. Burying her face in my shoulder, she wept. When she looked up again, I slipped her a brand new tube of red lipstick.

Those few hours when she returned from school to an empty house, were like Nirvana. She would deck up in her mother’s cosmetics and pose before the mirror, until the day her brother saw her.

Mythri had something new to learn everyday, watching as the lady transformed completely, walking, talking and even laughing differently as she got into the skin of her character.