REAL Beauty

It’s in the curve of my smile, which never leaves my face,
A smile that reaches my eyes to brighten up my gaze.

It’s in the radiance of my skin, devoid of any make-up,
Skin that’s soft and smooth, and never needs a touch-up.

It’s in my soft pink lips that speak a language of their own,
A language sweet and subtle, that takes a seductive tone.

It’s in the sway of my hips which makes the guys swoon,
Hips that have a healthy span, oh yes, curves are a boon.

It’s in the gleam of my eyes, which are full of ambitions,
Ambitions to take the world by storm, realize my noble visions.

It’s in the stride of my step, which always has a spring in it,
A spring of self-assurance, not affected by pessimism one bit.

It’s in the reach of my arms, which lend strong, warm hugs whenever needed,
Hugs to comfort or congratulate or just return some affection heeded.

It’s in the way I walk into a room, and see heads turn my way,
It’s the real beauty in me that makes people care what I have to say.

The men treat me with respect, looking me straight in the eye,
The women ask me relentlessly: ‘where does your secret lie?’

I say it’s in the way I carry myself, despite not being model-thin or gorgeous.
I say it’s in how I stick to the basics, never making a fashion fuss.

It’s in the way I laugh heartily, throwing my head back in mirth,
It’s in the way I love to eat, without obsessing over my girth.

It’s in the arch of my back and the grace of my neck,
It’s in the way I walk tall, confident as heck.

It’s in the click of my heels, and the scent of my hair,
It’s in the way I have so much to give of love and care.

It’s in the way I stand up to any kind of atrocity,
And in the way I spread joy, evoking felicity

I don’t have to shout or cry or jump around,
I command attention, and refuse to be downed.

It’s in the way I strive to make a difference, in this crazy selfish world,
It’s in how I put my words into action and make sure my plans are unfurled

It’s in how I love to get my beauty sleep despite so many things to do,
It’s in how I’m not lonely, even without a ‘baby boo’.

It’s in how I make time for the people who matter,
It’s in how my silence speaks louder than chatter.

It’s in the way I work hard, to live my life my way,
And in how I love to make someone else’s day.

It’s in the way I’m down to earth yet proud of everything I am,
It’s in how I know when to listen, and when to not give a damn.

It’s in how I don’t gossip or bitch or badmouth anyone,
It’s in how I always give second chances to almost everyone.

It’s in how I’m quick to lend a helping hand without waiting to be asked,
It’s in how I forgive and forget, and leave bygones in the past.

It’s in the fact that I don’t indulge in useless material possessions,
It’s in the way I patiently listen to even the most scandalous confessions.

Oh yes, it’s in everything I do, the real beauty in me,
It’s not just on the outside, so some people don’t see.

It’s the way I cover up my body yet flaunt just enough
It’s in my individuality, free of superficial fluff.

So now you know where my real beauty lies,
Oh yes, all conventional norms, it certainly defies.

Are you a woman (or man) of substance? Do you believe in REAL beauty, that's not just skin-deep or obvious or conventional? Well then, check out Yahoo! Real Beauty and connect with like-minded individuals.

The post above is my entry for the Yahoo Dove Real Beauty Contest held on Indiblogger. If you are an Indiblogger and you like my post, kindly promote it here: http://www.indiblogger.in/indipost.php?post=59534 and also click the Facebook 'like' button which you will see at the link.

In Limbo

Of all the most irksome tasks in the world, I think the worst is ‘waiting’. Waiting for sleep to come at night, waiting for calls that never come, waiting for bad times to pass, waiting in line at shops and banks and offices and everywhere, waiting to have more money, waiting for love to happen, waiting for people to reply to messages, waiting for summer to pass so that my skin, hair and mood can all feel better, waiting for the right moments to put plans in action, waiting to write certain exams, waiting to see what their outcome will be, waiting to pack my bags and set off to do something new, waiting to see whether I have what it takes to make all my dreams come true…

And lately, waiting for that coveted 100^th follower and 100^th ‘like’ on my blog. :P

I may be an action-oriented person but sometimes, there is nothing to do but simply wait.

But what makes waiting slightly bearable are the three best blessings of life: books, movies, music, not necessarily in that order.

I am reading the Harry Potter series backwards, from book no. 7 to book no. 1. I have just started on the fifth one and every time I revisit the words of J.K. Rowling, I find something new to take away. She is just as magical as the fascinating world she's created, I think.

I want to be that kind of writer. I want to be able to weave such wonder and mystery, to make emotions and imaginations come alive at once, and to impart wisdom and sound judgement without being preachy or even realizing it. But to achieve this too, I have to wait... wait for my writing to mature on its own, wait for my own voice and style to take full effect, wait for my brain to snap into overdrive and do something spectacular. Wait for my time to come. :)

True Life Tales - 3

There was once a girl.

Who deeply loved a boy.

But he was her friend and could never be more. She was all right with that, because at least she got to have him in her life.

Most of their interaction occurred online. They rarely spoke on phone or met in person.

Day in day out, she lived in the hope that he would express interest in meeting and hanging out with her, the way he routinely did with his other friends.

Sometimes she suggested it herself and occasionally she got her wish, but most of the time, plans did not really fall through, for whatever reason.

How she wished she was as valued a friend to him as his other female acquaintances were. How she longed to be asked out to movies or coffee dates or just plain and simple conversations.

On several occasions, she sensed she was about to get lucky, only to realize in a jiffy that she had misunderstood, and then her heart would shatter into pieces. Over and over again, she kept being disappointed, yet never got round to giving up. She persisted to the point of foolishness:

‘Can you do me a little favor?’ he asked one day when they were chatting online.

‘Sure,’ she replied, excited. She liked doing him favors, ridiculous as that sounds.

‘Check the time of the movie, New Moon, playing at Cinemax tomorrow. Check online because the papers don’t have it and I’m online from my phone so can’t access the site.’

‘Okay,’ she replied, with a little thrill of anticipation as her mind raced ahead of her. ‘But why?’

‘I want to go tomorrow, after attending college. Annie and Rhea may be free and they really want to see it.’

‘Oh,’ she replied, as she felt that familiar sensation of her heart plummeting down to her feet and shedding into a countless pieces along the way. Involuntarily, her eyes became moist as she realized he had NOT been thinking of asking her. As always.

‘Yeah, so can you check quickly and tell me?’ was the reply glaring at her from the screen.

She stared for a moment. Then felt herself go mad.

‘No,’ she typed, her fingers trembling slightly. ‘Why don’t you ask the people you want to go with?’

It was a moment before he replied: ‘?’

He followed it up with: ‘What do you mean?’

‘You want me to check movie timings for you yet you never go with me to ANY movie!’ she typed, feeling anger bubble out through her fingers as she pounded the keyboard.

‘So go and ask your friends Annie and Rhea to check. I’m not doing it.’

‘W T F’ he replied. ‘What has that got to do with anything? I’m asking you a simple thing and you’re reacting like I don’t know what. What is your problem?’

‘You. I hate you never bothering to meet me and having so much time for all your other friends.’

‘I always go for movies with Annie and Rhea, okay? If you want to come along, come. And you can pay for my ticket too. :P’

She was disgusted rather than amused by the lame attempt at humor, if that was what it was. It made her angrier still.

‘You don’t care, do you? You never care when I express myself. All you’re interested in is your other friends! Never any time or money for me!’

‘Oh for god’s sake!’ he replied, and she could tell he had lost his temper. ‘It’s my time and my money. I decide how to spend it. You are nobody to tell me what to do.’

‘I’m not telling you what to do. But you like to twist everything I say. So leave it. I’m signing off. Have fun with your precious Annie and Rhea at the movie!’

‘Yeah I will. Go on being jealous. Haha, you make me laugh, child. You seriously need to grow up.’

‘Whatever.’

And she signed off, with angry tears streaming down her face and an urge to smash the computer to bits so she would have an excuse to never log on and face him online again. Why did love hurt so much?

It was three days later that she next faced him, and by a twist of fate, it was in real life rather than online. She and her friend were at the movies – another movie, not New Moon – and by some absurd coincidence, he was there, with his parents, right in the seat beside her. Well, he was going to be in the seat beside her before he suddenly switched with his parents and ended up two seats away.

The recent fight forgotten and thrilled that she had run into him by sheer chance, she instantly text messaged him: ‘Hey, come and sit here, na! I’m right beside you! :D’

‘Nah… I don’t feel like…’ he replied.

Her face fell, but as was characteristic of her, she didn’t give up: ‘Why not? Come on, we hardly meet and it’s such a cool coincidence we’re right next to each other.’

‘No, I don’t want to. Chill.’

One look at the message and she was close to tears all over again. She could not look over at him directly because his parents were right there and it would have seemed odd. Moreover, he didn’t seem to want to introduce her to them even though she knew his mom and dad didn’t have any problem with him having girls as friends. All over again, her heart broke. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he hardly ever met her, when fate itself had given them a chance to meet, he was aloof and didn’t even want to say hello. He had treated her like a stranger when she had always treated him with more love than she'd known she was capable of feeling. Why did love hurt so much? Again, she had no answer.

That night, when she saw him online and exploded at once, letting her hurt get the better of her, demanding to know why she had been treated worse than a foe, he only had one answer:

‘I was pissed about how you acted the other day. All the drama you did when I just asked a simple favor. I was angry and therefore in no mood to speak to you today. Big deal.’

She had had a lot to say in response, to defend herself, and even though she did say it, everything fell on deaf ears. Who was she to feel hurt anyway? She needed to 'grow up'.

It was just the beginning of a friendship going sourer than milk left unboiled in the summer. It was just the beginning of her being ‘punished’ for loving him to a point that it annoyed him. It was just the beginning of years more of humiliation and tears to come. Yes, it was just the beginning for she was stupid and didn't know a lost cause when it was staring her full in the face, threatening to destroy her.

Anger and I

It boils inside me, simmering just under the surface all the time but rarely making it's presence known to the world. There are too many things that piss me off, I think: stereotypes and sex roles, rules, norms, society, bullies, bitchy people, controversy, crime, evil, injustice, lack of justice, waste, pollution, abuse, and the list goes on and on.

Yes, I am a very angry person. Problem is that I don't quite know WHO exactly to direct this anger towards. Some times, I chastise God for letting the world be a messed up place, but most of the time, I turn the fury onto myself: let it burn me up inside so that nothing is left but cynicism and doubt and a sense of utter weariness.

I think this is because from a young age, I became conditioned to NEVER overtly express my anger. I did throw the usual childish tantrums but was put right straight away. As I grew, I became more and more restrained and thought it inappropriate to shout or scream or do any such thing. To date, I can't really raise my voice at all.

Most people assume I am just a calm person who doesn't like to make an issue out of anything, some perhaps take me to be meek, but a select few have noticed that underneath my collected exterior lies a volcano that has been raging and bubbling for far too long. They correctly predict that the day I eventually snap won't be a pretty day at all. It scares me a lot, how much anger I have bottled up inside me: years and years worth of unsaid words and unexpressed feelings and frustrations and conflicts. I often feel like going to a hilltop and screaming my lungs out. I am pretty sure I would break down into tears after that.

Somehow for me, tears have always been synonymous to anger. Instead of yelling my head off, I dissolve into sobs. It's kind of pathetic, really. But then, crying does make me feel sort of better than yelling would.

I think there is just one person who has truly seen what a total mess I can be when my anger erupts, mixing with other feelings like hurt and loneliness and causing me to say and do the most ridiculous of things. Like a child. Or worse, actually. And that person is also the one I love(d) more than I can ever love anyone. Why do I get angry at people I love? And then sit and cry about it? What is wrong with me, honestly?

It's okay, you don't need to actually answer those questions. I don't think I want to hear any responses. :P

People who inspire me - 1

I don’t know much about photography but I do know that with a little bit of common sense, creativity, and a fair enough camera, anyone can capture reasonably good pictures of beautiful things, people and scenes.

It is when you shift away from the conventionally ‘beautiful’ that a photographer’s true worth comes to the fore. The test of a photographer lies in how he/she can utilize their skills to make the ordinary look amazing, the mundane look interesting, the uninspiring look captivating, and the self-conscious look completely natural. At least according to what I think.

One person who truly brings this out is Rick Guidotti, a former fashion photographer who, in 1998, ditched the lucrative world of glamour and gorgeous women to establish Positive Exposure – “a highly innovative arts organization working with individuals living with genetic difference.”

Rick sought to highlight to the world that genetic disorders such as Albinism, Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome, Myotonic Dystrophy, etc, can in fact be ‘beautiful’ and need not damage the self-esteem and confidence of affected individuals.

He has conducted innumerable professional photo-shoots of people with genetic conditions and successfully brought out the beauty and wonder of genetic diversity, in the process trying to address the major problems of social stigmatization that such individuals face.

As a person with albinism myself, I find his work both fascinating and inspiring. Here is my favorite photo from the gallery on display at the Positive Exposure website:

I came across this whole initiative several years ago but somehow never thought of sharing it here. Today, however, I simply had to.

If you have a few minutes, check out the website (www.positiveexposure.org) and the photos on it – they are something you don’t see too often for they bring out ‘the beauty of difference’. Watch the videos too if you can – it is in those that you will catch Rick’s admirable passion and enthusiasm for his work, as well as better understand how and why he set off to integrate his profession with a larger social cause that hardly gets as much attention as it probably should.

Genetic disorders are not diseases; if anything, they are evidence of nature’s marvelous ways. And marvel should never be equal to disgust or ugliness or non-acceptance. Don’t you think so?

The drama will go on. . .

So he is dead and buried and done with.

Or so they say.

And once again, his face is on every newspaper, television and computer screen.

For a few days or weeks, the world will harp on about 'Operation Geronimo' until it gets something newer and better to talk about.

Terrorism will continue.

So will the supposed war against it.

America will harp on about the 3000 or so civilians it lost on 9/11.

Nobody will really care or mention anything about the many, many, more innocent lives that have been lost in trying to avenge that fateful day.

Bombs will continue to go off in Afghanistan and Iraq and Pakistan.

Innocent people will continue to be massacred.

Politicians, whether it be Gillani or Obama or Singh, will continue to play their politics.

Books will be written about it all.

Movies will be made aplenty.

And life, as is characteristic of it, will go on.

So you might as well switch to the sports channel instead. Believe it or not, even amid all the madness and tragedy we live in today, there are still things to celebrate and enjoy and smile about.

And thank God for that.

Notes to Myself - 4

A moment is all it takes. A moment of weakness that makes the smile disappear from your eyes and the all too familiar heaviness descend upon your heart, threatening to transform you into THAT girl again, the one you are embarrassed and frightened of being. The girl who couldn't escape her broken-hearted-ness, and saw no meaning in life for a dangerously long time, the one who appeared tragic but was in retrospect just plain stupid.

Yes, a moment is all it takes to be reminded of her, to feel perilously close to her, but moments can be battled. They can be faced head on, looked in the eye, and shooed away bravely. They can be prevented from turning into anything more than what they are - just moments. Moments of weakness that can do no harm as long as you are strong and calm in the truest sense of the word.

Which of course, you surely are. Even if you don't believe so.

Until Next Time,

Your Saving Grace

Notes to Myself - 3

Can you believe it? How time has changed you? Finally. For the Better.

It doesn't matter anymore, when things don't go as you like. You have learned to trust your life's own game plan.

It doesn't matter anymore, when people you love don't care. You have learned that what goes around comes around and they will surely experience the same too.

You no longer long for things and people who are not meant to be yours at this point in time. You have learned to be content in your loneliness. Your dreams are your best friends, and your conviction about realizing them forms the armor of your unflappable confidence and self esteem.

Your happiness is at last your own, unaffected by the behavior of people you had given undue love and importance to.

And most importantly, at long last, your mind can over-rule your heart in situations where it is necessary. And hence, you are no longer vulnerable to falling to pieces just because your heart is.

Touch wood.

And take care.

Until next time,

Your happy self.