Magenta Power

The Color of Destiny: Roots, Symbols, and Literature.

To be born on a specific day of the week might be a simple mathematical coincidence or, depending on the culture you look through, a declaration of intent by destiny itself.

On a recent trip to Bangkok, I was struck by how all the decorations surrounding the King—flowers, garlands, fabrics—were bright yellow, while every accessory adorning the photographs of the Queen was violet. I asked our tour guide, who provided the explanation: in Thailand, there is a deep-rooted tradition in Vedic astrology that assigns a specific color to each day of the week. It is not a decorative detail; it represents the energy of the deity protecting that day and, by extension, shapes the essence of those born under its influence.

For the curious, here is the chromatic map of the Thai tradition:

• Monday: Yellow

• Tuesday: Pink / Magenta

• Wednesday: Green

• Thursday: Orange

• Friday: Blue / Light Blue

• Saturday: Purple / Deep Lila / Violet

• Sunday: Red

  
  

Mine happened to be Tuesday: a vibrant pink, on its way to magenta. And my wardrobe, completely unaware, lacked a single garment that could mark my destiny.

For a long time, I considered colors to be merely aesthetic choices.

However, with time and literary maturity, one comes to understand that symbols are not chosen by chance; they are recognized. Moving past mere superstition, I decided to test the Thai theory and discovered that this color truly bestowed an unfamiliar energy upon me. It is a color that does not ask permission to exist, yet it does not need to shout to command a room. A color that empowers.

Today, I look at the world through these magenta glasses that illustrate this article. It is not a capricious choice to grab attention on social media. For me, this color represents a point of vital and chromatic balance: the passionate strength of red contained by the cold depth of blue.

I apply this very same logic to the architecture of my works. Literature cannot be flat, but it shouldn't be a festival of empty fireworks either. It needs contrasts. In a narrative environment often dominated by the sobriety of black or the neutrality of gray—both fundamental to building atmosphere and raw reality—magenta acts as that stubborn remnant of identity that refuses to blur out. It is the symbol of a personal quest, the spark of psychological resistance in a character facing a hostile environment.

And precisely because of that, it is the color of my signature.

Identity, after all, is just that: discovering which elements belong to us by right and which ones we choose to adopt to look at reality.

What about you? Do you know the day of the week you were born? Do you let symbols and colors guide the construction of your own identity, or do you believe it all comes down to a simple coincidence?

Let me know in the comments.