The Wardrobe Overhaul

Why do we keep ogling at pretty faces? Why does Fair & Lovely sell? Why does the prim and the proper woman take the best opportunity while the others-dumb, intelligent, hardworking, lazy, overqualified...whatever they may be, don't get it? Katrina Kaif bags the profits of the highest grossing movie of the year in Bollywood, while a Paan Singh Tomar is left with a mere critical acclaim despite being a movie way ahead of its league? 

Why am I so acerbic? Well, I was told that I will 'need to look the best I can' for my interview to reach the 4th round, by the middle management of a five-star hotel, where I had applied for the post of a PR & Communications Manager. Apart from the general feeling of shock and surprise, I mentally surveyed my own appearance in my mind. A formal salwar suit, formal footwear, a neatly tied ponytail. No make-up. Oh wait! Shouldn't this be done by the HR, if at all? Don't companies mention a dress code sometimes? I griped for a few hours and the next morning, wore a saree and went for the next round. My intention was to know if the profile was worth all the shot, considering I had no job description provided. The interview went off well, the results are still pending. And I plan to update this post with a closed status.:)

Applying for a fancy PR post immediately measures my abilities in smiles and small talk. Also, it tells me my work is zilch if my face has no beautiful story to narrate. No offence meant to anyone who is currently in the position I am bashing, but sorry mate, it does pinch to be valued on a scale of grooming over skill and ability. Apart from all the spurts of self-doubt and internal debates I had post leaving that interview room, I did take the cue of a wardrobe overhaul. :) (Husband, are you listening? ;)) 

I haven't been brought up with the Feminist grain in me, but I have learnt to value the woman I am for what I am over a period of time; through experiences pleasant and not-so-pleasant. I value the way I look, and the way I conduct myself at work. That's why the thought of being a supermodel more than a corporate communications manager of a 5-star hotel threatens me. 

I am seriously hoping some renowned comedian sees this and makes a sketch out of this for general entertainment. Hugh Laurie, are you listening?

This Short Life

I want to be...

A rich reaper,
A poor keeper.

A practical preacher,
A worthy teacher.

A butterfly, a bird,
A cry heard, unheard.

The Sun, the Moon,
The doom, the boon.

The far, the near,
The stitch, the tear.

The brave brat,
The scared cat.

The high, the low,
The fast, the slow...

I want to be so many, no more,
A smile, a sore.

Life is short for all the things, I want to be.

In Rhythm with Life

I shake, toss and jump musically, feeling like an excited kid on his/her first train journey ever. 

A change has struck me, gently so. With all the love and affection that the first shower bestows on the summer soil, I have been changed-for good. This doesn't entail a change in who I will be or my identity as who I am. It feels like re-molding, not to re-shape, but to keep my element intact. 

 I see myself swinging from beat-to-beat, hopping from track-to-track, as the train moves. Through thick fog, crossing the yellow cement indicators to various small stations. There is happiness in leaving people behind, your favourite t-shirt, kadhi-chawal, Sunday soaking in the sun with groundnuts-All of it! There is happiness in leaving everything you've held on to, for everything new.

Shadows of trees in the fields laden with fog linger on-busy streets afar. The fog seems like a plain canvas on which trees and people paint a black and white image. I wish to colour them all-colours mixing with each other, spoiling each other to create a new picture! People in the train compartment are busy 'eating' tea, cajoling their daughters as 'mamoni' or addressing elders as 'dadashona'/'thakuma'. It is early morning, and unbelievably quiet. (Beshi bhalo, I say!) While husband is lamenting at the lack of earphones and rejoicing a hard disk full of 'daroon' movies, I sit writing this diary entry, drifting into another world, with each word. 

The theme outside is 'mist' now. And I feel the change knocking me from within. I have painted my sky-red, white and yellow! There are are a few things as blissful as tying the knot.