The Beautiful Ugly

Was i ? Truly ? Ugly ...? By all rights, i should have been. I was tall, slim, very hot . But only from the neck down. It was my face that did me in. Small eyes, twinkling ones though, a nondescript nose, a full upper lip, the features were all good, but i guess, God took the left overs and put them all together in me. My best friend on the other hand. Pretty as a picture. So most often, i was the resident wall flower. The one to whom everyone came with their boyfriend / girlfriend woes. The resident shrink of college. Now, that's what you would call red hot. No? Sigh. You would be right of course.

Since joining college,  the date we had been most looking forward to was the ' Fresher's Ball .' To be held in ' Zinc ', the most happening disc in town. For the first time in our lives, we were going unchaperoned to a ball, where there would be boys ! You see our lives so far had been like the old black and white movies of yore, where women undertook the role of men.  Often we read of people struggling out of deserts to be confronted with palm trees, a placid lake with palm trees doing the swaying act. He staggers towards it, palms outstretched, his dust filled eyes, straining to behold the unbelievable, on his lips a prayer, his crazed, deprived mind, making his heart leap at the munificence laid out before him. You get the idea, gentle reader ? That was how we staggered into the disc, dressed in our daring best, teetering in our heels, our hearts roaring in sync 'Bring on the Boys !!'

Soon enough, all of the girls were on the dance floor, dancing wildly. The music, so loud, it made sure our feet wouldn't touch the floor. Alas, it was so dark that we could hardly see our partners. But feel them, we sure could. Mine seemed particularly out of shape from the panting i could hear, the hands clutching me were clammy, just like mine, i thought wryly. Then the lights came on. Blinking at the fierce onslaught  of bright flashing lights, i stood mouth agape. As did my partner. My best friend. My best girl friend make that. In fact, the dance floor consisted of almost all girls ! Bewildered, we turned and found the boys. Crouching over the bars, or should i say, cowering behind the bar. The glazed look in their eyes, had an element of fear. This otherwise docile bunch of well behaved girls, they knew  from everyday life had transformed into banshees, wild beings who gyrated wildly and set the dance floor on fire. " I mean what if we had raped them, for god's sake."

The rest of the night was good fun. The boys, realising that we basically were harmless, let their hair down, and the bravest actually matched their steps with ours. What is it about ugly girls ? There has to be something compelling about them, i guess. I wasn't allowed to sit for a single dance, as the boys actually cued up to dance with me. Like the most ugly one of them told me, "You're so wrong, you're right down beautiful." The beautiful ugly. How i love being one of them !

A matter of courage

I sat looking at her photographs. She was so beautiful she took my breath away. As if someone had punched me in the stomach. Pushing the laptop away, i hung my head in my hands and sat. Great sobs shook my body, as i  cried. Tears that seemed to come from my very soul. "Take this, and don't be a sissy." The voice was harsh, even as it's owner proffered  a tissue. "Every girl looks like an actress these days, with the right make up. Your wife is much prettier. " That was it. The dam within me burst. "But she's not the love of my life. Only Minnie will ever be that, " I shouted. " I loved her, don't you understand! I loved her! Like i never will love anyone else again. Ever! She was my soul, she was everything that was lovely and wonderful about my life. You took that away from me! You ! I hope you are happy now. Now that you've robbed me of my happiness forever." She shrank from me as if i'd hit her. Then held out her arms beseechingly, "I only wanted your happiness, son. All i ever wanted was for you to be happy. I'm your mom, for God's sake. " The door rattled shut as i strode out of it. Yes, she was my mom, and i loved her, or else i would have struck her.

I had always been a good son. Maybe too good. But for the life of me, i couldn't hurt her feelings, even when i was a child. My upbringing had been good. I had had the best of everything, being the only child, i had been pampered even. The bond between my mother and me had been strong, though she was too domineering at times. The rebellion struck when i entered my teens. I stood my ground even as she tried her best to persuade my dad to stop me from going abroad for studies. " You'll lose him for sure. Who will take over your business ?" she tried to reason with him. For once, both of us were united  and i left for the U S of A, for my masters.

Heady years, the best of my life, followed. From a callow youth, i grew into a man. My roomies, brutal as they were, taught me to stand on my own. For the first time in my life, i was getting my own meals, doing my washing, vacuuming my room and in spite of it all, i was loving it.

The party was for Christmas. I saw her as soon as she entered. The room seemed to light up with her presence. Tall, lithe,with long black hair flowing down her back, she was very striking. But it was her effervescent personality that had all the boys flocking towards her. For one of the dances, we were blindfolded by the girls, and had to choose our partners by touch. By some strange miracle, I tagged her. We never looked back. From the beginning she drew out the best in me. I found myself making scintillating conversation, dancing as i hadn't ever before. She was my cousin's bestie, and we soon became inseparable. However, it was a long distance relationship. She came from across the border, from Canada, where she studied. I was still bound to the states and with her in my life, deeply committed to my studies, as i started thinking about a future with her.

The day I graduated, I gave my parents the news. I was going to look for a job in the states, and that i was going to marry her. Which news instantly brought my parents on a long overdue visit to the States. Of course mom was reluctant about giving her consent. "Isn't she too dominating ?' to which my dad scoffed, " Huh ! Pot calling the kettle black"  and a sly, " I married you didn't I !"  But she knew when to acknowledge defeat and gave in. It was my turn to go meet Minnie's dad. Before me, he had been 'the' man in her life, and I was nervous. When her parents saw how much we loved each other, nothing else mattered to them, and so we were engaged, to be married. We decided we would settle in Canada, if I couldn't get a job in the States, what with the recession having hit us hard, and jobs being hard to get.

Meanwhile we were separated again. There i was completing my masters, while she was working, both of us full of plans and in touch any which way we could, be it cells, emails, skype. My visas were expiring though and i had to return to India. We both dreaded the fast approaching deadline and tried to spend every holiday together before i left. I did return, eventually but with the promise of fast rejoining her.

The cacaphony of Indian shores, the return to the easy way of life was morbid enough. Some days the distance between us seemed overwhelming. Six months more, and she would be able to apply for citizenship. Then we could marry and I could migrate. The dates were fixed, i could hardly contain my happiness. Her mom was flying down to be with her, to spend some quality time with her daughter before the marriage.

The next weekend they were supposed to go to the Niagara falls. Before that, she was going to a sleepover at a friends place. I was going trekking with my friends, to Leh. For the next week we were going to be incommunicado. I returned exhausted. It was almost midnight, and so I tried to enter the home quietly. Strange that the lights were on. Mum was sitting on the sofa. Dad was pacing. "Sit down son. There's been an accident." Dad's voice sounded grim. Minnie's friend had taken a wrong turn. The suv coming from the right had hit the car head on. The passenger side, where she had been sitting, took the impact head on. As the legs beneath me gave way, my one thought was that I had to be with her, I had to see her. "You can't. Not just now. She's critical. Her mum stressed that you stay away. At least until things improve. She's unconscious, anyway. Her lungs are punctured, ribs broken, and she has multiple fractures, which may never heal. " The next few days went by in limbo. I now knew the meaning of 'living dead.' She was  in that state physically, i mentally. I had a nervous breakdown, and was mercifully kept in sedation for the next few days. My pillar of strength was my mother. She looked after me as if i was a baby. She fed me with her own hands, slept on a cot in my room.

A week later i mustered the strength to call. Her mother, for some reason, disconnected the line. Strangely, that kept happening, until i was ready to explode. Now i was determined to fly out. "No." They don't want you there." Mum kept reiterating. Disbelievingly, i shook my head, "Why on earth ? " Mother took my hand in hers. "She may not walk again. Ever. She dosen't want to see you. Her parents believe that seeing you would only add to her trauma. For her sake, don't go there." Tortured, broken, i somehow lived thru the next few months.

I heard that she was in rehabilitation. I told myself that she probably hated me by now. How could i ever face her again ? What kind of a coward was I ? In my mind's eye, I saw her, sitting on a wheel chair, not wanting to face me. But I knew i'd do the same had i been in her place. Agonised, tortured, I stayed away, though I yearned to be with her.




Six months flew by in a haze of pain. It was then that i met my cousin, Minnie's best friend. I met her at a friends' place. As i hurried to greet her, she turned away, almost in disgust. "How's Minnie, tell me! You have to tell me !" I demanded of her. "She turned to face me then, thru clenched lips she retorted, " You ! You B......! How dare you ask me that. After what you did to her, how can you stand there and take her name, even. " Over the next few days, I pleaded with her to explain. She told me the facts. Mum had called her parents, after the accident, telling them that it would be best if I didn't see her.  That I was in shock, too and had had a nervous breakdown. She told them that since marriage for Minnie was an impossibility now, there was no point in her having an emotional breakdown, which was possible if she saw me. She told them that she was breaking the engagement on my behalf. I tried to call her, but it was too late. Her mum wouldn't pick up the phone. I couldn't find the courage, within me to go face her. Rani was a childhood friend, recently orphaned. She needed me and I needed sanity in my tortured existence.She was kind enough to marry me, though she knew about the tragedy of my former relationship. She made me make peace with my mom. But I never forgave her for all that both Minnie and I suffered.

Three years had gone by. I heard that she had overcome her disability with aggressive rehabilitation. Aqua therapy had wrought a miracle. She was able to walk. Supporting her like a rock, was her mom and an old friend in Canada. Someone who had always loved her, and was now marrying her.

I slunk back to the lap top. There she was, bedecked in bridal attire. She looked at me, serene, happy, deeply in love, from the photo. The title of the photo ? 'For better and for worse.' She deserved him, he deserved her. From the deep sadness within me, the tortured recesses of my mind there arose a spark of happiness for her. At least one of us was at peace.

Yogaga !

"A one.. two... three..." She swung gracefully, like a ballet dancer before me. Open mouthed, i stared. How could she possibly contort her body like that ?  With such grace too. "Hey mum, c'mon," she egged me on. You can do it too." I looked at her, my seventeen year old, standing slim and tall before me. In her leotards and high ponytail, she could have easily been a model for any yoga magazine. I looked down at myself. Fat, frowsy, wrong end of forty, yes. Stiff with the happy lethargy of years, huffy and so far content, yes. I smiled self deprecatingly at her. "It's easy ma, don't knock it till you've tried it," she cajoled. I looked down at my tires, so called love handles, then looked disbelievingly at her. "It's taken me years, to put all this on, If i lose any of it, i'll sag at all the wrong places and end up looking like... like Adnan Sami : thin cherubic face on a once fat body." She chuckled, so did i. " Besides, what if i bent like you, and got stuck, bent into two. Think how difficult it would be to cart me off to the hospital, just like that."

I was happy being me, i had such a loving family around to help me fetch and carry. Then one day it happened. I got the invite. It was an old  girls' reunion, at college. The friend who sent me the email, had posted a photo of herself, ( forty going on thirty ! )  She invited others to do so too, so that we could recognise each other after  the long gap of twenty years, and the travails of life, not to mention my penchant for walnut brownies. Peering over my shoulder, my teen carelessly tossed a " don't worry mum, your face is still almost the same, that is if you are going ? " I heaved myself to my feet. The time for action was now. I still had three months. I was going to knock some of my weight, and their socks off. The thin svelte, collegeite within me was raring to go. Go, i did. First of all to the kitchen. Over the 'Death by chocolate' cake i vowed, the next one would be at the reunion.

" Breathe in, breathe out, yes! Ma! You're doing great." Looking like the before and after versions we stood, our yoga mats in place. " Ah.... " she breathed in, "Ummm.." she exaled. "Ungh....." i lunged, "hrrrrrrr........." i panted, trying to reach the elusive toes. So it went on for a few days, much to the merriment of the hubby and the bai. But i was determined.  Once fired up about something, i rarely give up, specially the desserts, but i did this time. However i was not sure about yoga being the ideal thing for me.  All it would do was help me reach further down the table for food, no ? I reasoned, to get out of it. My teen disagreed. She had charted out my diet, and my exercise regimen, and with a role reversal i sulked about, made sure i followed it. I went for long walks, i even went up to the gym to enquire about a three month membership. After translating the fees into the number of five star meals they could fetch, i returned back to my in-house trainer, much more appreciative of her services.

The days flew by, each time my daughter caught me mooning over food, she banished the food, the recipe book, the magazine, even the maid,  whose lunch i was eyeing, contemplatively. The last straw, came sooner than later. There i was, at the unearthly hour of eight in the morning, standing still in the 'vrikshasan' or tree pose, while an irate maid, tittered sarcastically, then glowered and muttered trying to dodge around me with her duster. Doing my best to ignore her, i hung grimly onto my balancing act on one foot.  Unfortunately, her washcloth, as it was swirled furiously around my feet caught me off balance. I teetered. I  swayed, then reflexively flung an arm out to regain balance.  At the same  moment she rose, hurriedly, thoughts of my landing on her, making her leap out of the way with an agility i hadn't ever seen in her buxom frame. That didn't happen. What did happen though, was that as she stood up, she caught my flailing arm smack on the jaw. Our screams in tandem were followed by total silence.

When the neighbours peered in, they saw the lifeless body of my maid lying splayed on the ground, down to the classic tongue, sticking out of lifeless mouth pose. The poise of my teen restored sanity as she hurried to the kitchen, and poured a glassful of water on the poor maid's hapless head. "Aigo !" she groaned as she came to, rubbing her jaw which had swollen. Ice packs were called for and after she retreated back to the kitchen, we collapsed in a heap, my near hysterical daughter gasping stuff like " public hazard ma," and " oww, my stomach," as she clutched at it, staggering around, shedding great tears over my doubled up form.

Weightlifting. The fastest way to lose weight according to the net. So now i'm on to that. As for my maid. She's changed her timings to eleven a.m. much after i'm done with my regimen. The rest of the household disappears with alacrity, my teen guides proceedings from behind the long suffering sofa.

Gone two months, and yes, i can reach my toes. It's the thought of the 'death by choclolate' pastry that keeps me going. I'm going to have only desserts at the party. After i meet up with my friends. Also after the no hold's barred dinner.