The Diary of a BindiBabe
Coral and I have known each other since birth, practically.
Same school. Same street. Same hair colour—we even had the same texture in hair. Around the ages of seven to nine, mine would always be plaited in two, falling down, with the tips sitting just past my ribcage. Hers, coarse enough to be wrapped into two buns without a hair band. And, if she had my eyes, she’d almost look a little Chinese. Too cute. “True brownies,” as described by my mum. But, her real name was Yama, which actually means "restrainer" in Hindi. She was given the name Coral, but I never really knew why. This is the only query I had about her—but I never brought up. It wasn't necessary—not in this lifetime, anyway. I used to wonder if it had anything to do with the colour of her kitchen walls, which matched the cushions on her dining table chairs—even her living room lampshade was Coral coloured...
