Girly Woes

‘No. You can’t have this one. You would surely tear/damage it. You won’t be able to manage it.’

‘Then how about this one, mom?’

‘No way. It’s my favorite.’

There starts the general argument between mom and I over a saree which I had to wear for this year’s Saraswati Puja to go out with friends[it’s the dress code]. My mommy is verrrry protective of her precious sarees and won’t part with a single one for my sake. I am very (un)fortunate to grow up in a family pre-dominated by brothers who would tease me like hell if I ever think of doing anything girly [according to them-I would go 'nyaka']- like wearing a kajal, doing make-up or trying to wear a saree. Although they are behaving a lot better nowadays [now that they have their own girlfriends and most of them got married], they have never let me acquire the grace of wearing a saree or any urge to look good with a little bit of make-up and my mom had never bothered much with me, so I am left to find what suits me best through friends and few sisters. Sometimes I wish so much for a big sister of my own, then I wouldn’t have had the problem with this kind of stuff. I don’t mean to brag about my looks or anything-it’s just that I am not that much bad looking but I find many girls way below my looks, look more attractive with a little touch-up. I am never gonna catch a guy for my own at a first glance.

Back to the point. My mother won’t part with a gorgeous saree, upon which I had set my heart on, so I had to content myself with an old presentable saree [not a new story] that would make me look wayyy older than I am…sigh…so much for the hope.

Won’t brood over it. Mom helped me get dressed in that traditional attire with a thousand safety pins unsafely tucked in various parts…made the most of my little collection of junk jewelery -mismatched bangles, earrings, lip balm[does the function of a gloss-if I ask for a real gloss-my bro gonna disapprove-whats his problem??? Jealous.], pinned my hair back and got ready to face the day.

Wherever I go, I always attract the momentary attention of the people in my vicinity because of my remarkable height[and in this case the combined height of my 1 inch heel]…but today was a little different. I got the ‘wooh’ glance from my neighbors [who had never seen me-I have never let them-in traditional before], wolf whistle from the dadas nd didis and adorable kids of our flat. Gapes, blank stares, pointed fingers, muttered comments from road pedestrians or cycle/bike riders[yuuck]. This, although not at all pleasant, made me think, ‘ok, maybe I am looking good…’

Feeling a little hopeful, I walked along thinking , ‘Ok.. Maybe I have at last acquired the grace and the look to suit a traditional wear….I am good…I feel great….I am…’ And I see a bunch [ahem..gang] of ladies [don’t know wheather older or younger-as age cant be guessed when in a saree and no one is as tall as me] walk by me and each of them looking very pretty indeed-I mentally summed up-more prettier than me.

So much for the hopes….sigh again…

I again wish I had a sister to guide me…