She stood at the threshold, aloof, with blushed cheeks (more of rouge than of anything else), kohl eyes (dreamless eyes that can hold the seas in them, of tears, of emotions, of regret, of anything but dreams.) and lips melting into mirthless robotic smile of the recipient (with thick hair neatly plaited) of that financing bank, but she was not the recipient and she didn’t have thick plaited hair. yet, She wore pink shapely lipstick over her unshaped lips, (that are forced to smile at her unwelcome guests) and stood there more disintegrated and more dissimilated than she appeared to be.
No one would ever see the wetness of the freshly cried off tears. But the wrinkles of her crumpled cheeks lamented a foreign weird tale of grief and melancholy (blurry enough for the world to be oblivious of, and vivid enough for the ignorant!) Clad in baby pink shirt, embellished with pearls (she did this her self!) the dress too beautiful with a long dupatta (tidily wrapped around the head, less of modesty and more because of the falling hair and lizard-tail plait made up of ashen-brown, as if burnt, hair) and a chooridaar. Too beautiful a dress that could have looked lovelier hanged onto the hanger, than on her dreadful body. It dangled oddly over her, as if complaining on its gruesome fate! Her wearing it; had made it look less adorable -perhaps hardly adorable at all.
She stood there vacuously, under the stern scrutiny, being gauged by two pairs of noxious eyes – the length of her index finger, (short! Disapproved) shape of her toe-nail (curled! Disapproved), worth of her gold-bracelet (cheap! Disapproved), teeth on her lower jaw (pearl-white! But… disapproved). Her every gesture, her every leaning (and not leaning – why?) had been inspected! Few meters away, in front of a decorously set table, which bore the empty saucers, showing signs of freshly baked cake and patties (home made!), her special samosas, and other fruits, were sitting the garrulous flaunting mother, (the size of his car, the shape of his labeled coat, the weight of his pocket on the 1st night of the month) and her patronized child, hair slicked back as if with spite, an oversized coat with loosely hung pants, as if borrowed.
A pair of haunting hawk eyes and a pair of hungry eyes, (as if never fed with good food!). This scene had been rehearsed so many times that now she could even predict the movements. The hideous women, with crumbs of biscuit and cake on the corner of their lips and greed in their eyes, the women who would gloat over their dominant position, who would boast off their child’s status, his immaculate taste and choice, women, who smell of rotten apple when speak and who would never find the secretive path that led to her beautiful heart (a crystal clear heart has to bear a attractive face – some one had said it utterly wrong).
Hideous pompous women that could never probe the depths of her seas and could never reach the skies of her thoughts, who would only see the apparent ugliness of her, the cripples wrapping sheet in which her dreamy enchant lay virgin! And not her way-too-perfection that lies beneath her plain bodily flaws! No one can ever see her mesmerizing beauty within. Blinds – fiends – Morons !! The little green frog, remained the little green frog, the coward kitten waited behind the curtains, reluctant to come in the limelight. The mother and the child stood up, nodding! The handsome child would marry a white-skinned, rosy-cheeked and long-thick-haired princess! No one saw that the queen of illusionary world, a princess of the lost land of Atlantis, had a very delicate heart bearing a tag, “Handle With Care” No one noticed that another (yet another!) sly crease had crept on her cheeks, a permanent mark of being rejected again!
oh..thats so beautiful..the way it went on..was simply so undoubtedly amazing…
am ur fan now!!
being rejected again and again can be so painful..but only those who have been through can know the grief..
Anyways, these customs and fragile ideas of white is beautiful or skin is beauty etc are loosing grip.
Rejected is that, who cannot use her/his mind for her/his own living, creation, success and satisfaction.
Yet, a good graph of some of the Indian girls still feeling the unwanted grips of societal abuse and crime against Individuality with some excellent words.
Reason for Liberty
I mentioned it here because your blog is not allowing open comments with name and site url and so i will have to comment through google account which I don’t use any more.
Aweeeeeeee..That is so sad yet so beautifully written. I specially am a fan of the last couple of line. Such a beautiful thought and so well articulated!!! Way to go!!!
Asby, I wrote about something similar too but on a lighter vein.
diva, you’re right! but then, there are still people like that. who’re to be stereotyped as ugly when they’re now!
Nin, aw! thankyou 🙂
THE PAIN OF REJECTION SO BFULLY EXPRESSD…
hmm. i guess all women who have an arranged marriage face this.
our society is so shallow
but i think better be rejected than to marry into a family of shallow ppl. no?
hope uve not faced this. hell ur still young..make a stable career then think of marriage plzz…all gals need to be financially independant
Very Sad Indeed!! ……….but are sure it happen with women only!! Next time try to make it unisex!! I am sure you will win bloggers award if any 😀
anyways another Masterpiece from the Mistress of Words . 🙂
criss, i’ll want to go a step ahead and propose myself, :p who knows? this was half-fiction. half, well, i went into a trance and one nice spirit came to me to reveal it. i call it my muse 🙂 we writers always have one.
hehe, right amir, i think if “I” go on proposing (and may be rejecting a coupla men), the situation will be other way round [:p]i will sometime try to let my imagination run wild!
hey nice blog!!
no thats only one Situation ……… there are many such !!………Well I ‘ll be looking for that in the Future!!
U r a ROCKSTAR !!!!
u kept me stuck to ur lines …
none the less, you use too many adjectives that I need to look up at http://www.dictionary.com
But very very expressive representation of ur thoughts ….
I am a fan now …
All Hail Asbah !
Hi,so nice to read it! It is a realistic picture of feelings of rejection seen very commonly these days!
Keep writing !
very articulate 🙂
oh thankyou all..
aamir, i sure will try to think..
i liked readin the last para
i mean it was very well written
am really happy for u
good post :d
Keep it up..
very very nicely written girl..keep it up…and yeah even im ur fan now…good work 🙂
Asbah, to be frank I had to read your post twice to make complete sense out of it.
I have said this before, but can’t help myself from saying it again. You have a completely different style of writing, out of the ordinary. It’s a treat to read your posts.