When it comes to looks
Mirror measures the degree of your insecurity
But criticism tests the level of your confidence
To check the validity of the first statement, I have got ample time.
The 25-year-old mirror of our dressing table calls me pretty only on the days when the room is blessed with a new bar light. The mirror in the bathroom calls me prettier when I smile after soaking my tears. The mirror near the basin calls me the prettiest when I wash my face to discard sleepiness for performing my duty as a student. On the days when my vision collides with those beauty queens reigning over social media, I debar myself from facing the mirror. Because I don’t want to hate the design gifted to me by God. Sometimes compliments from friends, constant staring of boys, and kala tika of wellwishers try to eradicate that deep-seated insecurity from my mind, but they fail.
But insecurity is not synonymous to underconfidence. I realised it that day. I have been insecure about my looks since long, but that has never stolen the crown of Abhisikta. Because I strongly believe that dignity is something which is much beyond physical beauty. It comes from within. It comes when you restrict yourself from adopting vices, when you do things for the smile of others, when you breathe gratitude for the things you have in your life. And I am always happy that my babamami have instilled these things in my mind along with those genes contributing to my appearance. In the views of almost all my relatives, I am a well-mannered kid. Even some of those who haven’t interacted with me much consider me good just by weighing me as per the values of my babamami although I don’t have half of the goodness that they both possess. But that night concepts of some regarding me must have changed. That was the reception night of Dipuna bhai, my cousin brother. Leave about others, I had turned ill-mannered in the eyes of mine. I was unable to receive the guests with a customary pranam. I was unable to ask them “how are you?”. I was unable to express my happiness after seeing them after long. Infact I was unable to face them. I was not feeling like myself. The scolding I had heard & the criticism I had received from dear ones were more than enough to snatch away all the confidence from myself. Holding a smile on my face I was cussing myself for the decision I had made. The decision of trying to enhance my beauty with the skill of a makeup artist. The girl who doesn’t even wear kajal & lipstick had decided to experiment with herself by a makeup artist who beautifies many models & heroines. My decision was not irrational also when I had made it initially. Because I always feel inferior in functions looking at those gorgeous girls with sophisticated makeup when my adornment never cross beyond powder, babylips & bindi. And the frustration of not attending his wedding due to my exams had increased my excitement for his reception. That excitement had started fading with the repeated anger-filled calls of elders for getting ready quickly. The makeup of my newly married sister-in-law was not complete by then. And mine had not started at all. Still, the fool in me had a hope that he(MUA) would make me look beautiful with those branded beauty product he had brought. I don’t know what colours he & his sister-cum-assistant painted on my face. But in the end, he hyped that I was looking like a heroine & everyone would love my look. I looked at the mirror and the mirror looked at a dayan. It was already too late and I didn’t have time to interact with the mirror. But in that one-minute interaction, it told me “This girl is not you.” Still with courage(infact with no option & time left), I entered the venue. Mami asked me to wipe out my face as soon as possible. Baba had already told me in anger that I had no need to come there so late. Sibu mocked me saying that my face was looking like the buttock of an ape. Dila bhai commented that I could compete with a ghost. Some dear ones were asking me who had stained my fair face. Some near ones were asking me why had I applied those blue brown red stains on my face. Some known ones were just looking at me as if I was an alien. Dipuna bhai, Sunu bhai & Bapi bhai were assuring me that I was looking good & my discomfort was just because I didn’t have experience with makeup. Whatever it maybe, I was feeling so weird. My mood had turned completely off. Just to escape from people, I was pretending to be busy in my duty of being a cashier. I was unable to behave like who I am actually. In the end, I ate something & my mood lifted a bit. I did a video call to my bestie and she added her share of mocking by giving me a new name. The day ended with lots of realisations. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication and a way better than makeup wala mukhda. I don’t understand how some people feel so comfortable & confident by dabbing so much makeup everyday. I was feeling extremely suffocated that night as if I had lost my originality somewhere. Anyways I experimented on myself, but it didn’t yield the desired result. And it will remain as a bad experience in my memory.
When it comes to looks