Befuddled and Fictional

Argh, I'm in a lethargic mood today. My brain isn't working due to sleep deprivation. Went out last night and i really HATE doing that during the week unless it's an early dinner because I need my minimum 7 hours of sleep! And I feel terrible saying no, because then my friends might consider me a recluse or uninterested and then stop calling me altogether. Though I can only take so much of all of that.

Partying bores me. I only really like the dancing bit. And that gets awkward consciousness-creating when one has deprived men (not depraved but, simply bored married middle-aged men with bored wives surveying the young blood with disapproving, snooty, narrowed eyes witha perpetual look of ennui in them and pursed lips. You know, I'm definitely guilty of doing that, except mine is the lip-slightly-parted variety. We think its fashionable to look bored but really it's far more constructive to concentrate on having a good time!) gazing in wonderment at one's joie de vivre. Sorta sullies the whole experience although I wish i could learn to ignore it. Also the polite conversation-making and fake cheerfulness is often too much of an effort for me. Wish I had that glibness and tehzeeb that can graciously slide over any new or socially awkward situation! Unfortunately I just sorta smile vaguely and continue to dance.

So what is up with all the layers of make-up women are putting on these days? Yesterday I swear in a crowd of hundreds of people at the Bombay Gymn and later at Indigo I was the only female (excepting Nisha who is so cute) without any make-up on (normally i add a touch on my eyes and lips but was tired and couldn't be bothered yesterday). EVERYONE else had not justa touch, but full-on faces done up with something on their cheeks and eyes. Why??? It's just a bar night for christ's sake! First of all you are going to a club to avail of cheap booze! And then trying to look super-rich and glam to make up for the phukatyaness that we're all collectively displaying (frankly, where else can you get beer for 40 bucks?) Come on man! Anyway they all end up looking the same with their faces caked over like that and only variations in the shade of lipstick or colour of eyeshadow. It really seems that they have created a mask they are hiding behind - and not just one that covers their facial blemishes, marks and shadows, if any. Rather, they have managed some kind of tenuous female unity in this uniform anonymity, which only ends up looking farcical. The same bored expression bestowed upon everyone down the nose through half-lidded eyes and pouty lips turned down, the colours evenly spread, the stress shadows still visible under the foundation, the lines of discontent forming into tiny creases that won't easily rise upwards in delight if they are not careful, the hair meticulously starightened/blowdried/highlighted in the same colours no matter what one's skin tone is, attention painstakingly given to clothes and accessories but not to the essentials that set off those clothes and accessories to greatest advantage - NOT enough attention given to posture, to walk, to the way the neck is held. Too much looking down and hiding or looking through and pretending at mystery.

What are we, as women afraid of? Why the hiding behind make-up? Are you going to sleep with your partner with all that make-up on? What about in the morning if he wakes up before you and you look like a Vampire out of his worst nightmares with your eyeliner smudged and cheeks blotchy and lips smeared? Or are you going to sneak out of bed at 4am, and either touch up or remove it all? Are you hoping that you will look 20 forever? I know women who swim at 9am in the club with full make-up on an dtheir heads above water. Women who come to the GYM with makeup! If all men wanted were good looks there would be no institution like marriage. There's only so much make-up can do! All we are doing is perpetuating a vicious circle for cosmetic companies to make more money out of us! There are women who dont smile properly because they're scared of the Botox getting messed up and they wish to avoid laughter lines! I think laughter lines are the most attractive feature in aging people! They are signs of a happy disposition!

Let's face it, we will all age. We may as well accept it gracefully. There will always be younger, slimmer/curvier, more attractive women. And the 'competition' isn't confined to only one's own race anymore! But who cares? LOVE yourself, with all your imperfections, neuroses, big hips, round chin, and KNOW there's no one like you! You're just right the way God made you. Make the best of yourself. But don't succumb to the imaginary promises of cosmetic companies! Waste of money and time! In my opinion, it's far more constructive to spend that extra time with family building great memories, or learning something new that will contribute to one's personal development and create a sense of peace and fulfilment that manifests itself on one's face and expression far more effectively than any make-up or treatment can do. In my view, there was a Satyuga for a reason, and we should learn from it.

Ironically, most of the men with these dolled-up women are messy, unkempt, out of shape and balding. If only they paid as much attention to their personality (not to mention paunch) as they do to carefully spiking their hair every which way! Really, Indian men (besides married men worldwide I think) have it so easy. It pains me to see some of the most beautiful women one will ever come across to be stuck with such ghastly excuses for personalities! (I'm sure they are very nice people and probably really caring husbands and boyfriends, but if they were, they should be doing a better job of not letting their partner look bored! Dance with her instead of staring at younger women dammit!)

When I look at these incongruous pairs, it makes me feel that the position women have in society is so superfluous. Yes, I know have been making a lot of blanket statements and I do apologise. But I mean, these women are gorgeous, many of them are smart, educated, talented, have fabulous figures - and then they get married or seek to marry these guys who just don't look like they have anything to match up! Any outsider would think these women are selling out. And, privately, i wonder if women feel this way. We have been trained to think that we must grow up, get a guy (somehow or the other), get married by a certain age otherwise we will never find a suitable guy and shall have to settle for a reject of every other girl or a middle-aged divorce. So girls of 20-25 in panic latch on to the first person they meet who is vaguely interesting and offers them the security of marriage, FINANCIAL STABILITY and hopefully fidelity. They compromise, mould their expectations so it seems like they're not, and prepare for a life other than what they dreamed about. This is why Indian girls cry so bitterly when they marry. It is not just about the separation from the parental home in which one has been reared as a princess, but it is about the separation of those precious dreams and aspirations of girlhood that had made the rest of life seem such a happy mist. What we so as humans is wise, all said and done. We're survivors. We make do. One can't spend the rest of one's life escaping and refusing to face reality. We all have it in us to make our lives what we want it to be. It always requires a lot of effort. We can be happy if we decide to be every single day. The will to happiness is strong and is gradually and insidiously infectious, like AIDS. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all. It helps if both parties have a compatible vision of it!

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I really like how people can start looking more and more attractive to you the more and more you get to know them and like them. And it's really disconcerting the other way round, when suddenly one day you find that someone is not all that attractive after all, though you haven't faced up to your feelings about them! I suppose it's all baout discovering imperfection that you can deal with!

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I saw him at the bar as I approached, tall and slightly slouched like a wilted lamppost. The eyes, that i once found so penetrating and sharp, like daggers of Lindt, still staring icily, yet vacantly in the general direction of the bartenders, disappointed me in their cowardice. Our eyes met through their corners pretending to take in the ambience as we both looked through each other, turning our heads in deliberate naturaless and studied cheer. His woolly closely-cropped hair suddenly gave me the impression of moss forming on a fierce clay head on an antiquated archaelogical find. I determinedly continued to sway like a devotee in a mild blur of vivacity, anxiety and relief, and i smiled. He didn't dance, and continued a similar pretense. Our separate realities may intertwine in the collective chaos of a horde of pretend-revellers, but we flow seamlessly along separate courses, retaining our particularities.

The instinct for dignity is often stronger than the desire for peace.

I tried to write the above paragraph in the style of Shanghai Baby. Please tell me if it works! Not quite I know... I'm not even a hundred pages in. It's one of the most lyrical, disjointed, esoteric, witty, cynical and hopeful at the same time observances on human nature's destiny intermingled with socio-economic macro developments. I can't wait to finish it. (I also am too poor to be able to afford late fees!) I think I shall make up an excuse and not go out tonight.

I love free days at work!