My Tryst With Beauty!


What is beauty? As I sit pondering over what truly defines beauty, I cannot help but dive deep into the labyrinths that I meandered through the thirty plus years of my existence. The truth is that the concept of beauty has had different connotations for me at different stages of my life.

When I was an unassuming, starry-eyed school girl, I remember being smitten by the very idea of beauty. I found myself being confounded by the fact that the so called ‘beautiful people’ were looked at by the society at large with rose-colored glasses. Yes, at that young an age, I could gauge that the pretty girls of the school were looked at with a hint of envy by the other girls and the boys gazed at them to no end.

For a naïve thirteen year old this was probably the first tryst with beauty and the hoo- haa around it. I was not unattractive so to say if you come to define by the societal standards of beauty. I was fair and thin and reasonably decent looking.

But, the thing with beauty is that no matter how good you are, there is always going to be someone who would be better than you. And so I often ended up comparing myself with other girls. I distinctly remember this one incident wherein for a school play a pretty and tall girl was out rightly chosen for a part while I yearned to play the protagonist. It was then that I felt that life is unfair to you at times if you do not fit into the mold of what the world deem as ‘beautiful’.

But, life went on and like so many other things my notions and beliefs about beauty metamorphosed like the clay that twists and turns on the Potter’s wheel to finally become a sturdy pot. As I grew older, both in age and sensibilities, it gradually dawned upon me that beauty is not something which is an all pervading phenomenon. Just by dint of being pretty you could not be successful and happy.

There were a number of people who made me realize that our society has a warped up definition of beauty and it is time we redefine it. And yes my education and life experiences led me to believe that beauty is indeed skin deep.

My grandmother, who inspite of being dark-skinned and someone who wasn’t ‘beautiful’ as per the societal standards, unwittingly ingrained in me the first seeds of feminism and led life on her own terms. She had an infectious zest for life and was never apologetic about the way she wanted to live. In an era where women were mostly the shadows of their husbands, she was a politician who unabashedly spoke her mind. I remember at seventy five years of age, when my grandfather said to her, “We have lived a full life, now it is time to go”, she replied, “I am not going anywhere, aap ko jaana hai toh jao. Mujhe bahaut jeena hai abhi”.

I believe she is beautiful!

Then there was a colleague of mine, who was overweight and fringing towards obesity. But, she was never perturbed by her appearance. She would wear all sorts of clothes that she wished to wear and carried them with elan. Initially, people stared, some even sneered covertly. But, she was unaffected and gradually the obtrusive glares were gone. Later on she met this boy who fell for her, because he found her confident and positive. She made me realize that body-image matters and you should be comfortable in your skin, no matter what.

I believe she is beautiful!

Then, there is a college friend of mine whom I got in touch with recently through facebook. I reconnected with her after a decade and could not recognize her instantly. She had transformed completely from a lanky college girl to a woman who was ‘chubby’ and again not conforming to the societal standards of beauty. After I got in touch with her, I realized that my newsfeed used to be constantly brimming with her pictures. She was posting pictures of family outings, selfies constantly. I was amazed to see her in all these pictures, smiling from ear to ear, sans any of those ‘filters’ that the millennial resort to- to ‘correct’ their looks nowadays. She was there in her true form, just being herself. One day out of curiosity I asked her, “You click so many pictures of yours”. Pat came the reply, “I like being clicked. It makes me feel good”. She made me realize that there is no point fussing over your looks as how you feel about yourself reflects on your face which in turn makes you beam.

I believe she is beautiful!

Today, as I am a mother to a young girl, I am glad that now I know that beauty isn’t merely about looking beautiful. To be beautiful you ought to feel beautiful. And how does one feel beautiful? Believing in oneself is the first step to feel beautiful. I hope I am able to instill in my daughter this belief that to look beautiful, believe in yourself first. Thereafter, let your actions do the rest. And then indeed you would be a beautiful person, in the true sense of the word.


(Image Source:

I believe every woman has TRUE BEAUTY within her in all the roles she plays. For over 18 years across 650 plus salons across the country, Naturals has been helping the Beautiful Indian Woman get more Beautiful.

Today Naturals Salutes the Beautiful Indian Woman.

Presenting Naturals TRUE BEAUTY… 

Posted in feminism, parenting, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

The Typewriter #FlashFiction


Kartik was having the time of his life. The waterfall was surreal.

As night drew close, he reached the small cottage. Tired, he immediately fell asleep.

The ‘tap tap’ sounds woke him up at an unearthly hour.

The next day, relishing his morning tea, he asked the manager, “Who was typing on a typewriter yesterday night?”

“Oh, don’t worry. A writer once stayed in that room. He was working on a novel, but one day he passed away”.

Kartik knew  aspiring writers were given enough lemons in their writing journey, but never did he know they persevered till afterlife.

Posted in Flash Fiction, thriller | 7 Comments

Wanderlust #100WordStory



They reached the enchanting vale to find the gurgling waterfall as they soaked in the unadulterated jungle air. She held his hand lovingly”.

“Here is your tea mom”. Her daughter’s voice shook Seemita. Pushing her typewriter away she smiled. Life had given her enough lemons but could not dampen her spirits.

She and her husband were travel bugs, forever seeking out unexplored places. Unfortunately, a freak accident three years ago took him and left Seemita paraplegic.

But, one day, she realized that she could still satiate her ‘wanderlust’ and travel to places unknown. Ah! the joys of being a writer.

Posted in Flash Fiction | 4 Comments

The Newsmaker #100WordStory


Sleep was elusive last night.
Groggily she picked up the morning newspaper.
And there it was!
As she grappled with the enormity of the situation, her phone beeped incessantly.
Adorning a blue-coloured sheath dress, she looked at her make-up brush. But, today it seemed to be sneering at her.
She had agreed to it.
She did not come all the way from that penury-stricken home to be a failure.
She painted her face and headed out taking a fleeting look at the newspaper headline which read, “Upcoming model Shweta Sarin’s wardrobe malfunction creates a stir at Lakme Fashion Week”.
Posted in Flash Fiction, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

The Palace…


In the hallway, they saw a corridor with several doors leading off it. Everything in the hall was covered in dust, as though no one had touched it for a hundred years. Raghu and Shreya rambled through the decrepit alleys that had witnessed history unfold in its dark chasms.

Just then a gush of strong wind blew and one of the last doors in the baleful looking corridor flew open. It was as if they were called in. Shreya looked at Raghu petrified with fear.

The large room was in shambles with spider webs adorning the walls almost becoming one with the life size paintings. Just when the two of them were staring agape at the eerie room, Shreya exclaimed, “What is that? Oh my God, let’s go back, I am sh*t scared”.

There at one corner of the palatial room lay a casket, big enough to house a human being.

I am there with you no, don’t be such a chicken. It is an old abandoned palace. Who knows we end up finding something like Tutankhamen’s mummy”, winked Raghu.

And finally they were standing next to the beautifully engraved casket. Shreya closed her eyes and clutched Raghu tightly. As Raghu opened the casket ajar, a loud scream reverberated through the walls of the palace.

Cut! Perfect shot”. A haggard looking man sitting on a ‘director’ chair called out. “The viewers will keep wondering what happens next. Cliffhanger endings work best for horror shows, don’t they?



Word count: 246 words

The first two lines were part of the prompt and the story had to begin with these lines. Thank you for this interesting prompt Anshu and Priya 🙂

 Written for #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya

Posted in Flash Fiction, Short Story, thriller | 13 Comments