The beauty within you isn’t transcribed by the colour you wear on your flesh or the dim number your scaling machine displays or the texture your hair decides to be this morning. It isn’t in the chemicals you’ve applied on them to conceal the white underneath. Neither is it in the brand name splayed on your new matte tote nor in the expensive fragrance you wish to envelope and exude. It’s in the dirty PJs you wore and the mangled nest on your head when you wake up to see the sun shine brightly on your face. It’s in the way you close your eyes tightly and scream as a car passes by suddenly on an empty road and the loud snort that slips your mouth just when it isn’t supposed to. It’s in the shining of your eyes and the rosiness of your cheeks as you come down the carousel. It’s in your demands of cotton candy and marshmallows on a faded afternoon. It’s in the running tiptoe on a puddle filled street and your careless race to catch the disappearing ice cream vendor. It’s in the dimples of your back and the softness of your hands. It’s in the loyalty you’ve promised to your best friend, defending and cheering them on. It’s in the stance you hold dearly to your chest and the way you’re open to all opinions. It’s in everything you are translated into. Your battered journal which displays your soul and contains your essence. Your washed out jeans reprieving you solace. Your mangled leather bracelet that you’ve been wearing since forever. Your special mug of evening tea. Your broken ceramic china doll. It’s in every word you articulate and every breath you draw. It’s you.
© Rushna Imdad. All rights reserved. Published on March 14, 2017.