All that Meets the Eye.

Being plain Jane is an experience in itself.
Its not that I don’t take time or I can’t plan to dress well.

I just feel comfortable in my skin, the way I am. And I need not hide the blemishes I have because they are part of me, too.

If beauty were only physical, then this world wouldn’t be the amazing entity we think it to be.

Because all wonders would meet the eye.
You would never have to dip your hands into the cool water to feel its beauty because all its enchantment would be in its form.

What meaning would fragrance have?
Or music even?
And what about words?
The million things they make you feel…all in the distance between two periods?

Meaning, depth, experience and beauty go together. Physical beauty is a blessing, yes. But it’d be rather phony without all its inner enigma.
Love it all.


Last night was a medley of poetic verses said until it was four in the morning and then I couldn’t keep myself from sleeping.

Daybreak means the sun showing up right outside my window in its own inclined ways and waking me up no matter what stage of the sleep-cycle I reach.

It took me a while to make sense of the world. It was like 8ish and breakfast is served only till 9 so I had to wake up and catch up with coffee. Dense with sleep we had coffee with Jazz playing in our room. That’s how we like it, our Sunday mornings until its almost noon and then we have to think about the next week and all the work due.

Then I check WhatsApp. Its offering of weird people living in bitter denial and self pity or happy people you just love. I’m sure there are other categories but that’s besides the point. Now I’m sifting through all the work I have to do as I steal a fleeting look at the laundry basket crying for help.

I’m glad I had a few good laughs, read some good stuff by Jeet Thayil and a short story by Neil Gaiman. Also the poetry of dreams at night. Beyond leagues :)


To look Human

Its almost 9:45AM and I’m still rolling butter sheets with my design sketches. The filter coffee’s gone cold and the breakfast is still in my mouth. The bread’s turned sweet and the carrot filling is halfway to the tummy.

I’d worn the first kurta I found hanging in my cupboard (the fact that’s it was hanging is an achievement in itself) and pulled on some Jean that was lying around. There’s absolutely no time to go over my wardrobe or choose footwear. Why didn’t you decide last night? Because I came back from a conference at 10pm and sleep was the only thing. But I’m comfortable in both my skins.

As I walk on the street with my things…sheets and scales clutched under one arm and the other supporting the bag, I catch random folks staring. Disapproval is all over their face. Slippers with kurta. The hair! Oh, the horror. Plain ticker lines running across their forehead as I pretend not to care but its killing me. I’ve been following the whole breathe it out thing though I fail at moments, most of the times I hold up,some how.

By the time I reached class I had let them convince them that I’m a mess and I even said it aloud to a friend.

There is this nice friend of mine from another department and we were childhood classmates. Basically, he’s pretty decent and a member of my friends circle. As I passed him by, I tried my best to hide my self-disdain while he smiled at me and his eyes ran from my slippers to champu hair. But seriously, neither was the dress to drap or bright or gaudy or ill-fitting. It was just a tad bit plain Jane. Honest to the T.

Bam. All of them.

A person could be a genius,  a nice person or an organ donor. But just because they weren’t meticulous enough to decide upon the clothes they were to wear the next day, you give them the look.

Give people a break. Some of us Di lose ourselves in the pursuit of a greater unknown and falter. Don’t judge. Just smile. That’s what I do. Because I know. Your disdainful  glances are butchering someone’s day.

Take care. Stay healthy . Arrividerci