On weddings.

So my mother, (sorta like Kris Jenner but way way smarter) made this statement yesterday while we were at a wedding that in a wedding or a funeral you mustn’t hold a personal grudge against anyone (including the dude who spilt dal makhni on your dress).

I’ve always been a fan of weddings, Good food, you get to wear Indian stuff you barely get to wear anywhere else, hot guys (may the odds ever be in your favor), pretty decorations and stuff, and most importantly (for me at least) the emotions, the relations and the feelings.

In the movie 27 dresses there is this certain thing on how the lead female always likes to look at the poor groom while the pretty bride make her entry. I being me decided to try it out, and when the bride made her entry while doing the walk of red lehengas and phoolon ka chadhar to that song which has been stuck in my head for the past 20 minutes the dudes face glowed like a million light bulbs (or maybe it was just the lightning) and that even though there were 300 people out there 3% of them beside him and his neck must have been hurting cause he had been wearing this money garland. Like if it were me in his shoes (which were soon to e stolen) I’d roll up my sleeves, call it a day and start watching Kanan Gill. FUN!!

Apart from the bride and groom (OBVIOUSLY!) a wedding has many other factors, most importantly clothes, or basically overly embezzled pieces of taffeta and net! And let me assure you, going underdressed for a wedding (I’m talking less sequins on your skirt) is worse than getting less marks than bobby ka beta, or having a less expensive car than your neighbor, or being dark skinned. (in my country darkness is a dark dark sin, and I’m guilty). Basically, you go to a wedding to dress up. Not dress up for a wedding, and once you’ve dolled up you compare. Compare yourself with other people. Compare your cut colour and shape, compare your length (or lack therefore) and compare how many sequins are there in one square centimeter of fabric.

One of my most favorite aspects was that families were together. There was this little photo session going on with kids and their nana-nani’s , dada-dadi’s and the millions of relatives from around the world. And it was cute. It made me miss my family. It make me take a selfie with my mother. It doused me in love.

And that the general feel in the air was of love, of relationships and of family and of good food.

I like weddings. You can invite me for yours.

Lullaby for a myna

10686898_1524983817755092_8379198600620860089_n

 

A pretty smile, Chinki eyes,

Beautiful hair and a brain better than me.

A shoulder to sleep on,

Rebellious she may be.

But with a captain badge to bare,

May I say that’s pure irony.

 

The tiniest of the lot and the most mature,

Change is her, responsibility she is.

Perfectly poised, with good clothes to wear,

Talkative as a myna.

I can see your halo, pretty one,

Shining in the sun.

 

A heart of platinum,

Rare yet precious.

I can swear all heads turn,

Because she is beauty and brains mixed into one.

Little chunk of perfection,

Smart is she.

And she goes admiring lesser mortals,

Humble be she.

 

One of the four,

She stands out.

Not for her beauty, nor her brains, or her grace,

More like because that is what,

Everyone works for.

Little ann ban,

Don’t you worry bae

I’ll be there for you.

Absolute Beauty (Daily Prompt challenge)

We’ve all heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Do you agree? is all beauty contingent on a subjective point of view?

I have a sad obsession with beauty pageants. They stand for what I will never be, tall (okay I’m 5’ 10” but), thin, pretty, clear skinned (notice how I didn’t say fair even thought that’s what sells in India’s pageants) and perfect in heels (if I could walk properly in trainers my day would be made).

“I’m not pretty, I’m beautiful.”

I sadly forget where I read this quote but it has had a deep profound impact on me. The two words, pretty and beautiful, so different but yet so similar.

The meaning for these two words according to the oxford dictionary is

Pretty- (Of a person, especially a woman or child) attractive in a delicate way without being truly beautiful:

a pretty little girl with an engaging grin

Beautiful- Pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically:

beautiful poetry a beautiful young woman

After I read that I was in shock, I always that pretty was physically pretty and beautiful, pretty from inside, from where it matters from the heart. Looks like I should just go sit in a corner and cry.

But then getting back to the question what is pretty? What is beautiful?

Isn’t beauty who you are a person and how many life’s you touch? Isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder. Isn’t beauty only skin deep. Personally I’m of the view that beauty is the prettiness you add to the world, to the life’s you touch, the smiles you trigger. Giving beauty a name is difficult there is beauty in all of us it just needs to be triggered.

Forever confused,

Sitara

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/absolute-beauty/

The temporary beauty.

So something quite popular in my instagram feed is nail art, and not any normal white dots on red polish pieces, full on paintings of favorite acts, books, animals, etc and the best part being their life is one day. 

As a sad former art student (forced till 10th) and a current arts (humanities yay!) student what has confused me is why would someone let something so beautiful be temporary. for example, yesterday i watched a video of a lady painstakingly painting on a cheetah (glittery green eyes and all) and today a picture a picture of her bare nails, void of the art painted on yesterday. such was the temporariness. if i were to make something so pretty it would be with a tattoo machine, on my body, cause the fact is a tattoo lasts forever. (or was it diamonds? I Dunno).

If my computer were ever to be formatted I would regret the deletion of the million drafts I have written.Nothing major, just a few lines which may never see the light of day but, something I hold close to e .similarly with things, I’m a sad collector of everything from empty pens to newspapers, and the fact is, I don’t even ever open or use the again but their physical presence is something i need and something my mother detests. Its like little chunks of my memory are stored in the cloud accounts of these artifacts (see it?) and if I were to lose them, i were to lose the memory.

So really how could one live in the temporary. how could one not want permanent chunks. tell me in the comments below.

Forever confused,

Sitara.