I ONCE WAS VERY OFFENDED WHEN I RETURNED FROM CHURCH AND I WAS INVITED TO A LUNCH PARTY FOLLOWED BY THE MASS.
One of the guests was trying to explain a girl, and the only description she could give,” Oh the most beautiful girl.” And someone else retorted, “ The one in the blue dress?” “Yes, that’s the one.”
Beauty is unanimous
As a teenager, I shied away from cameras. I’d always imagined when growing up, I was bound to hear, “My goodness you’ve become a beautiful woman.” But in my house, it was something I was rarely told, and definitely not something that leapt from my grandmother’s lips. There were some days; I looked into a mirror deeply hoping to find some semblance to my mother. Nothing, but I knew my restless eyes were hers, Ammachi’s. Unlike hers, mine never understood the ways of seeing.
Growing up with someone brutally honest, I knew she always wanted to teach us beauty lay in how content we were with ourselves not the one that thrived in compliments. In the end, another person’s opinion of how you look never mattered if you don’t know how you look. So then I, with a naked face, began to look into the camera, unafraid.
I’ve been asked many a time, why I don’t wear makeup. It definitely rooted from the rare photographs hung at unexpected corners of the ancestral home. My grandmother is never difficult to spot in the photographs. Which lead to my fascination with how she felt being photographed. Never for more than a few seconds, she would sit in. She famously has large brown beady and rhetoric eyes. Of great rarity, she powders her face or even has the slightest hint of makeup. She keeps her lips pursed, always chiding me for my lunatic smile. And with the right posture, a photo’s never incomplete without her kempt hair that’s always combed flat with some slick coconut oil. She never glares at the camera for attention and moreover, she never bothered how her eyes or even how her face looked, in return you’re drawn to her confidence and her unsullied reputation. There’s a way she sits in front of a camera, she acknowledges she’s photographed but she’s never intimidated how it turns out. She always outshone the fact that a woman isn’t always judged by her face. See she seldom looked into hers, though there was a tall standing mirror in her room.
And in years I understood she’s a woman who compliments wisely. Growing up with someone brutally honest, I knew she always wanted to teach us beauty lay in how content we were with ourselves not the one that thrived in compliments. In the end, another person’s opinion of how you look never mattered if you don’t know how you look. So then I, with a naked face, began to look into the camera, unafraid.
Run parallel, meet at intersections, skip a few lines, the line of thought has journeyed across a few latitudes and longitudes. To more miles before the big sleep. Cheers, Atheena
Its been a journey from being a young soul where I have felt only love but unaware of its importance in my life I searched for love all over and only felt pain, scars and reality but never true love I still keep searching.
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