Vanity would not be the right word at this point, though its close.
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Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Reflection Sees it All
Previously: The reflection leaned against the almirah mirror, intently reading into its owner on other side of that wafer-thin barrier. He could see himself over several years from this close. He could read on his face what it felt like with on those days. He could see how bad he was at his own authority - every muscle seemed to have a sovereign reign which is why he couldn't fan either of his ears. He could see the fractured appeal of his fractured noseline, now in a new shade of tan thanks to a week in the Leh sun. He could make out, for the first time, of the look of a shamed conscience, as in when a slave is scolded by his god. He could think of several goofy muscle-configurations that make him ever-less likely to fornicate. He could notice that he would not age well. He could make out that he was stocking on too much sesame. He could conjecture that he has been arrested in development and lost in translation, from the fact of his single look. He could see the asymmetry in the division of his face - since his discovery of unsymmetrical left and right feet, this was concerning. He then combed through his hair with his fingers, to collect them in a bunch and pull them back, as if he were fashioning a ponytail; he could see how that smoothed the fabric of wrinkles on his forehead, and wondered if a good crop on the top would serve a cosmetic solution to old age.
Vanity would not be the right word at this point, though its close.
Vanity would not be the right word at this point, though its close.
Friday, January 20, 2012
You & I have unfinished business
O-ren Ishii! Shoubu wa mada tsuicha inai yo!
A quarter down the entire length, and I already feel a trigger of ambiguous signals to my legs; it oscillates between keeping me going, and from pulling me to the ground - with a gentle grace and a painful expression on the face if I choose to stop, or with a thump if I remain stubbornly positive.
Fearlessly, I refuse an end to this experience, and drag ahead, breathing hard. Its close to what my 9k runs with C used to be like, when in our last 1km we would blow ourselves out doing all kinds of alternate motions for mobility. Only difference being that those lung-leaps used to be by the end of our run, while today its just past the start, and there's the whole of it ahead.
Soon I settle into the groove, and find things more manageable than what my labored start reflected. The body tunes itself (like the responsible responsive machine it is) so now that strange 'wrong' feeling is curbed by the measure of retracting the sensory inputs from the outer-world stimulus - the breathing and heart-rate stabilises but I can hear myself all the more, the liquid welling-up in the eyes now settles-in like a good spectator but the eyes start to learn more about myself (at abstruse angles) than the more usual squares and circles right that linger about. Thoughts mute out. Some cravings buzz about like flies, but are squatted down.
Today, I could've been anywhere, but chose this, in the zeal to live, to evolve, to claim, to inspire.
A quarter down the entire length, and I already feel a trigger of ambiguous signals to my legs; it oscillates between keeping me going, and from pulling me to the ground - with a gentle grace and a painful expression on the face if I choose to stop, or with a thump if I remain stubbornly positive.
Fearlessly, I refuse an end to this experience, and drag ahead, breathing hard. Its close to what my 9k runs with C used to be like, when in our last 1km we would blow ourselves out doing all kinds of alternate motions for mobility. Only difference being that those lung-leaps used to be by the end of our run, while today its just past the start, and there's the whole of it ahead.
Soon I settle into the groove, and find things more manageable than what my labored start reflected. The body tunes itself (like the responsible responsive machine it is) so now that strange 'wrong' feeling is curbed by the measure of retracting the sensory inputs from the outer-world stimulus - the breathing and heart-rate stabilises but I can hear myself all the more, the liquid welling-up in the eyes now settles-in like a good spectator but the eyes start to learn more about myself (at abstruse angles) than the more usual squares and circles right that linger about. Thoughts mute out. Some cravings buzz about like flies, but are squatted down.
Today, I could've been anywhere, but chose this, in the zeal to live, to evolve, to claim, to inspire.
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Friday, October 07, 2011
kkk
कोड़ा कुत्ता कब्ज़ा
रोती रेत
खेत खून खुमार
सौंधी सर्पाकार सलिल समूची
प्रकृति पृथ्वी पारदर्शी पतंगा
लहरों लोहा लचकती लालची
चोटिल चमकीली चादर चमेली चोली
बोली बादल बरसते बाशिंदे बदलते
दस्तक दशा दुरुस्त द्रव्य द्वापर
शिखर शरारती शौक शतरंज
नस नवीन नसली नफ़ासत नतमस्तक |
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Thursday, April 01, 2010
Old horses
Knowledge refresherSridevi: 1963
Hema Malini: 1948
Rekha: 1951
It is startling to find that Sridevi is, in fact, not far from our modern-day bollywood badshahs. What's also startling is Hema Malini looking fab beyond 60. And Zeenat Aman, at 59, still conveys relics of her amazing appeal. It must be hard to keep looking awesome for two generations or more!
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