The Chartless Day
276 Words
That day, the sky did not speak.
When Lâl woke up, her first instinct was to open the computer.
As she always did.
But the screen stayed blank.
The program did not load.
She tried again.
And again.
Nothing.
She checked her notes.
The files were gone.
As if they had never existed.
For an astrologer, this was not a malfunction.
It was a sign.
She tried to open her own birth chart.
Perhaps to ground herself.
Perhaps to reclaim control.
It did not open either.
The date was correct.
The time was correct.
The place was correct.
The system was gone.
For the first time, she realized:
The sky could choose silence.
A chartless day…
A directionless time…
A moment where no symbol offered guidance.
She went outside.
The city looked the same.
But Lâl was not.
She looked at a sign.
Saw a license plate.
Watched a clock stall on a second.
Everything she would normally interpret was empty.
Because meaning was no longer coming from the sky.
In that moment, she understood:
Charts do not only describe the heavens.
They protect the human.
And when protection is withdrawn, one is left exposed.
For the first time, Lâl could not even trust her intuition.
Because intuition, too, fed on the sky.
When night fell, she opened her notebook.
She wanted to draw a symbol.
Her hand stopped.
Nothing written on a chartless day could be real.
That night, she did not light a candle.
She did not look at the sky.
She did not name a single planet.
And in that silence, she felt this:
This was not a punishment.
It was a preparation.
- Writer
