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Consumer Cult: The Chilling Metaphor of the Discarded Mannequin.

Between us, the glass wall
On the other side
She stood
Sans eyeballs, sans vision
Sans lips, sans smile
Yet with her golden wigs
With the pixie cut and the bob
I began to like her
Every morning, I watched her
Standing fixed behind the glass
And in the evening, when I returned
She was still there
Standing where she stood
Tirelessly

And one day I missed her
In her box
My little heart felt the solitude

A little later I found her
In the opposite bin
Feet upwards
Left hand broken
Sans a piece of cloth
Anywhere in her faded skin

My nimble fingers touched her body
Now deserted, now cast off
And a lightning flashed all over me

Now she stands
Stands the same in her gown
Only this time
There is no glass wall
Between us.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

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