Beauty-Deeper than Skin?

Imagine being called a chauvinistic and irrational and young and that too by someone who apart from your name, sex, orientation and inclinations doesn’t even know you. People are judgmental, too eager to pass their decrees, like movie reviews they are all hell bent to shred you to pieces and why, because you happen to say or believe in something which is completely antithesis to their mental architecture and the worst part is like all movie reviews they couldn’t be any further away from the truth. Though the part about me being young is as true as the fact that night is dark and day is bright though in this part of the world days are no less bright then the night and also I tend to be irrational at times (who doesn’t) but me a chauvinist, the mere thought of it send me scurrying down with unstoppable bouts of hysteria and laughter. Actually, I love girls and in all shapes and sizes though I have a strong predilection for those beautiful types and seriously who doesn’t like to go around with people who are good looking, the way you look goes around a long way in determining the way people perceive you and that’s true irrespective of your gender, looks, color or ethnicity though girls tend to be more biased towards that inner beauty, I wonder what they gonna do with a really beautiful pair of kidneys or pancreas for that matter. Looks apart, I sincerely think that being beautiful is nothing short of gift because considering all the factors that go into determining your bone structure or complexion or your bust size, it’s nothing but a miracle when everything turns out to be exactly the way it is supposed to be but beauty comes at a price because more often than not beautiful people are the most conceited, suffering from perennial head in cloud syndrome but then it’s kind of ok for me because if beautiful people happen to be the most nicest and sweetest of all then what will happen to all those ugly types, who kind of live their lives in a hope that someone nice would come along and who would see the light beyond their looks and observe all the goodness inside.

There is nothing wrong about being ugly as long as you are comfortable with the fact and seriously there is nothing chauvinistic about my obsession towards beauty though you may accuse me of fascism or anti-Semitism but I seriously don’t care because beauty is what that works for me and just to settle the score about male chauvinism let me read you something from the diaries of a true filthier than pig male chauvinist, it goes around like I quote “Almost all the women I know nowadays are only really interested in how fat your wallet is. But then we live in changing times and that’s the way the cookie seems to be crumbling. Or they’re too goddamn dumb to understand the words that are coming outta my mouth.
I’ve always been the typical slavering lunatic when it comes to pretty girls and like all those of my ilk, I’ve had more than my fair share of relationships… none of which lasted more than a few months. Now, I’m just sick of the mind games, wasting money, time, patience, attention and energy on people who really don’t seem to notice any of that. Chicks today, like chicks before them, all want the moon and the stars. Just that today, chicks want it NOW, and they want a bigger moon with lots of f****** bright stars.” 

the girl in the cafe

Day before was supposed to be the weekend but my college people really thought otherwise when they announced a class for us. Attendance is the biggest tyrant of all, it can make you to wake up at 7.30 on a cold Saturday morning, drag your sorry ass out of the bed and have a cold shower because no one bothered to switch on the geyser, it’s supposed to be the weekend remember, and when you are all set with your hairs slick and your shoes all laced, you suddenly realize that you are running late for the class and then you run, all the way down through 6 flights of stairs because some stupid first year has had a brainwave and pressed all the buttons in the elevator. By the time you reach the class, your hairs like Albert Einstein are pointing in all the directions and only thing that’s slick now is your t shirt, slick with sweat and then you get to hear a remark from your teacher, who has chosen to arrive before time on that particular cold and merciless Saturday morning, that younger generation doesn’t really believe in dressing up. Anyways we, me and my friends and all those insomniacs who couldn’t sleep through a perfect Saturday morning, sat through the class, waiting desperately for it to end for we all have sacrificed breakfast to be here. Somehow the period ended and we found ourselves tossing a coin so as to decide whether we should attend the next hour or redeem ourselves by going to the cafeteria; ultimately it was our stomach’s that got better of us. Even a ghost town would have seen more activity than our cafeteria at that hour; it was deserted except perhaps for the cleaning staff and the lady who manages the cash register. We finally settled down, all five of us, with our idlie’s and vada, using our spoons for sticks as we tried really hard to navigate through all those green chilies and explode in your mouth, red peppers. I find South Indian food to be too hot and spicy for human consumption but I doubt, if I could bring myself to say the very same thing about the South Indian girls. As we sat there excavating through our food something happened, something which felt like an aftermath of global warming. It was like one of those movies where they show a nuclear explosion moving about, obliterating whatever that comes in its path; well she did have the very same effect on every one of us. She moved along the aisle and I swear apart from tic tacking of her stilettos there wasn’t a sound to be heard. As she moved down the rows of tables and chairs that were occupied by now a lot of male eyes strayed from their companions, the lusty eyed look of children who have suddenly spied something better on the shelf and even the female couldn’t help but look at her as if they might like to corral their boyfriend’s eyes from roving. It was electrifying; the way she moved, with her chin held high like a queen looking over her subjects, the spectacles that she wore couldn’t have possibly masked the beauty of her deeper than pacific eyes. She was whimsical to the point of being cruel, my heart really went for that guy she was with; poor guy must have traded his soul to be with this devil incarnate. Those who eat forbidden fruit for breakfast what is that they do for thrills, I thought. If looks could have killed, then I bet she was a serial killer far more profound than all those Zodiac’s and Jack the Ripper’s of the world, so much so that a sight of her would have made even the most ordained of all priests to hate their vows of chastity. There was something ungodly about her, her eyes were unwavering, unrelenting and I swear a glance from her would have been enough to defrost my freezer. Her eyes met that of mine for one fleeting moment and that single instance of was enough to send me rocketing through the sky, it felt like I was floating through some vast expanse, going where ever my wings would have taken me and then suddenly, it all ended. With a twist of her neck she made me plummet through those heights, with my wings all melted down, like the Icarus, I fell from the sky. When dreams are shattered there is hardly any sound and all that is left is the bitter taste of dust when you hit the ground. She was gone by the time I woke up from my reverie and I found myself staring at an empty chair that was her. I looked around, trying to catch a fleeting glance of her and there she was sashaying towards the doorway, her Cleopatra like hairs bouncing with each step that she took. She turned back as if to uncast her spell of bewitchment and that moment our eyes met. But a lot looked different this time, her eyes were intense but she was nervous and confused like a sorceress, coming to terms with her power and devastation that it could cause. That was perhaps the only human trait that she displayed but then even heroes have a right to bleed. She walked out the door, leaving me with a strange tingling sensation, sensation with comes with a realization that nothing of it is going to last, it all has to end sometime. It is the brevity or the mortality that has made this moment beautiful and perhaps she too has realized this and perhaps, this realization was what that made her turn back and look at me for she wanted a confirmation to reaffirm her beauty. Next time when I would see her, perhaps I would be able to look her in her eyes without being levitating to another dimension.