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She's performed severe austerities, defeated the most
powerful demons. But that's not enough; she wants
to be the fairest of them all. She lets Ganga wash away
layers of grime. Her beauty dazzles, she loves being
admired
© 2018
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I hummed tunelessly as I guided the brush over by eyelids, drawing winged eyeliner. Practically perfect, if I say so myself. Not bad for someone who had virtually gone without make-up for over a month.
“How much longer will you take”, my partner yelled.
“Just a couple of minutes”, I replied, starting on my lips.
“Oh come on. This is just a book release, not a cocktail party.”
“I don’t care. I want to look beautiful.”
“You are beautiful as you are. You don’t need make-up to look beautiful.”
Men!!!! They will never understand.
“You are beautiful”, he sighed when I presented myself ten minutes later. “I wish we could just stay at home.”
“I didn’t spend so much time over my make-up to stay at home.” I playfully swatted his hand away, before dissolving into a hug. “I too wish I could stay home. But if we have to go out, let’s party!!!”
The book release was in a heritage structure that had recently been restored. I loved the curving staircase and the heavy columns. “Take a photograph of me”, I said, leaning on the balustrade, staring into space, pretending I was Audrey Hepburn in my version of the little black dress.
“What’s got into you today?”, he asked, clicking the photographs.
“Nothing. I have been away from pretty things for a really long time and want to just enjoy myself today.” I pulled him into an embrace, and laughing, we entered the hall.
“Listen, I really need to schmooze a bit. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Of course. If I can take care of myself in tribal hamlets, I can certainly look after myself here.”
For all my bravado, such parties weren’t really my thing. I had never mastered the art of small talk, and no matter how well dressed I was, I always felt like an imposter. But today, I was determined to have a good time. After all, how difficult could it be to fake it?
I grabbed a cup of tea, balanced a cookie on it, and picking up a copy of his book flipped through it. As always, the Acknowledgements made me smile. Not every day that you get to see your name in print.
“Hi, can I take a selfie with you?”
Selfie with me? Is that the new pick up line? “Sure. But why?”
“I’ll put it up on Facebook, so everyone can see.”
Putting up a selfie with a random stranger on Facebook? Whatever rocks his boat.
I let him stand next to me and smiled dutifully for the selfie.
“So what do you do?”
You mean, apart from documenting vanishing livelihoods among the tribals of Chattisgarh? I wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but.. “I am a researcher, I-”
“I employ a researcher too”, he cut me off. “She scans the print and digital media everyday to see if there are any mentions of me. And if there are she files it for me.”
There are actually people who do that? And here I am finding it difficult to update my blog on a regular basis. “I see.”
“But she is leaving in a few weeks. So if you are looking for a job, do let me know.”
If that is the last job in the world, I won’t. “Sure I will.”
“So, why are you here? Do you read?”
Only every spare minute I have. “Yes, I like reading, but I am here because-”
“I don’t have time to read. I prefer watching movies. But you have to be seen at these events, don’t you? Otherwise people will think you are not interested in culture.” He guffawed loudly. Though I couldn’t get the joke at all, I politely smiled.
“This book is set in Madhya Pradesh, you know.”
Don’t they teach geography in school any more? Why does nobody know about the Chota Nagpur Plateau? “Actually it is not, it is set in the Chota Nagpur Plateau- ” He cut me short before I could finish.
“It is set in Madhya Pradesh. My assistant has read all reviews of the book. She told me. My mother is from Bhopal, so I have a special connect with the book.”
Did this ass seriously think there were indigenous tribals roaming around on the streets of Bhopal? “Chota Nagpur Plateau is not- “
“No, not Nagpur, Bhopal. You should read the cover page at least. Otherwise you will not look knowledgeable when the writer chap talks about the book.”
I work with the tribes where the story is set, and I’ve proofread the book twice. I wanted to say, but he wasn’t done.
“Don’t worry. It is normal to get confused between Bhopal and Nagpur. Just be careful if you want to ask any questions.”
Why would I want to ask any questions when I am familiar with the matter? “Sure, Sir. Thank you for the advice.”
“Don’t be so formal shormal. Call me Yuvraj, not Sir.”
Yuvraj? Figures. Entitled brat. “Sure, Yuvraj.”
“The event is going to begin. I better go and take my place. The writer chap will be offended if I am not there. Bye.”
Like he even cares. He is doing all this because the publisher is asking him to. “Bye.”
“And remember Nagpur and Bhopal are different cities.”
Was that a wink he gave me?
The event went off really well. My partner struck the right note between keeping the audience engaged and drawing attention to the sorry plight of the tribals who’s old way of life was under threat from industrialisation.
“Where did you get the idea for the book?”, someone from the audience asked.
“I have to thank my partner for it”, he said smiling at me. She is an anthropologist who spends more than six months a year with the tribals documenting their changing lifestyle. I was fascinated by her stories, and spent three months in the tribal hamlet with her. That was when I decided to write the book.
“Is that who you mention in the Acknowledgements?”
“Yes. In fact, she got back from the field only today, and is here now. You can give her a cheer in person.” He looked into my eyes, imploring me to join him. I got up in a daze, and joined him. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me before turning to the audience. “Whatever is good in the book is because of her. The mistakes are despite her best effort to educate me.”
The audience clapped. I shut my eyes and let it sink in. Yesterday, I was in the jungle in my jeans and crumpled kurti sharing a meal with a tribal girl. Today, I was in a linen shift and pearls, and all these beautiful people were cheering me. Both the women were me. Life was good.
My eyes sought out Yuvraj. He was the only one not clapping!
_____
I am Mahagauri, the Fairest One. The eighth manifestation of Nav Durga. I am every woman wanting to be taken seriously despite her looks.
“How much longer will you take”, my partner yelled.
“Just a couple of minutes”, I replied, starting on my lips.
“Oh come on. This is just a book release, not a cocktail party.”
“I don’t care. I want to look beautiful.”
“You are beautiful as you are. You don’t need make-up to look beautiful.”
Men!!!! They will never understand.
“You are beautiful”, he sighed when I presented myself ten minutes later. “I wish we could just stay at home.”
“I didn’t spend so much time over my make-up to stay at home.” I playfully swatted his hand away, before dissolving into a hug. “I too wish I could stay home. But if we have to go out, let’s party!!!”
The book release was in a heritage structure that had recently been restored. I loved the curving staircase and the heavy columns. “Take a photograph of me”, I said, leaning on the balustrade, staring into space, pretending I was Audrey Hepburn in my version of the little black dress.
“What’s got into you today?”, he asked, clicking the photographs.
“Nothing. I have been away from pretty things for a really long time and want to just enjoy myself today.” I pulled him into an embrace, and laughing, we entered the hall.
“Listen, I really need to schmooze a bit. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Of course. If I can take care of myself in tribal hamlets, I can certainly look after myself here.”
For all my bravado, such parties weren’t really my thing. I had never mastered the art of small talk, and no matter how well dressed I was, I always felt like an imposter. But today, I was determined to have a good time. After all, how difficult could it be to fake it?
I grabbed a cup of tea, balanced a cookie on it, and picking up a copy of his book flipped through it. As always, the Acknowledgements made me smile. Not every day that you get to see your name in print.
“Hi, can I take a selfie with you?”
Selfie with me? Is that the new pick up line? “Sure. But why?”
“I’ll put it up on Facebook, so everyone can see.”
Putting up a selfie with a random stranger on Facebook? Whatever rocks his boat.
I let him stand next to me and smiled dutifully for the selfie.
“So what do you do?”
You mean, apart from documenting vanishing livelihoods among the tribals of Chattisgarh? I wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but.. “I am a researcher, I-”
“I employ a researcher too”, he cut me off. “She scans the print and digital media everyday to see if there are any mentions of me. And if there are she files it for me.”
There are actually people who do that? And here I am finding it difficult to update my blog on a regular basis. “I see.”
“But she is leaving in a few weeks. So if you are looking for a job, do let me know.”
If that is the last job in the world, I won’t. “Sure I will.”
“So, why are you here? Do you read?”
Only every spare minute I have. “Yes, I like reading, but I am here because-”
“I don’t have time to read. I prefer watching movies. But you have to be seen at these events, don’t you? Otherwise people will think you are not interested in culture.” He guffawed loudly. Though I couldn’t get the joke at all, I politely smiled.
“This book is set in Madhya Pradesh, you know.”
Don’t they teach geography in school any more? Why does nobody know about the Chota Nagpur Plateau? “Actually it is not, it is set in the Chota Nagpur Plateau- ” He cut me short before I could finish.
“It is set in Madhya Pradesh. My assistant has read all reviews of the book. She told me. My mother is from Bhopal, so I have a special connect with the book.”
Did this ass seriously think there were indigenous tribals roaming around on the streets of Bhopal? “Chota Nagpur Plateau is not- “
“No, not Nagpur, Bhopal. You should read the cover page at least. Otherwise you will not look knowledgeable when the writer chap talks about the book.”
I work with the tribes where the story is set, and I’ve proofread the book twice. I wanted to say, but he wasn’t done.
“Don’t worry. It is normal to get confused between Bhopal and Nagpur. Just be careful if you want to ask any questions.”
Why would I want to ask any questions when I am familiar with the matter? “Sure, Sir. Thank you for the advice.”
“Don’t be so formal shormal. Call me Yuvraj, not Sir.”
Yuvraj? Figures. Entitled brat. “Sure, Yuvraj.”
“The event is going to begin. I better go and take my place. The writer chap will be offended if I am not there. Bye.”
Like he even cares. He is doing all this because the publisher is asking him to. “Bye.”
“And remember Nagpur and Bhopal are different cities.”
Was that a wink he gave me?
The event went off really well. My partner struck the right note between keeping the audience engaged and drawing attention to the sorry plight of the tribals who’s old way of life was under threat from industrialisation.
“Where did you get the idea for the book?”, someone from the audience asked.
“I have to thank my partner for it”, he said smiling at me. She is an anthropologist who spends more than six months a year with the tribals documenting their changing lifestyle. I was fascinated by her stories, and spent three months in the tribal hamlet with her. That was when I decided to write the book.
“Is that who you mention in the Acknowledgements?”
“Yes. In fact, she got back from the field only today, and is here now. You can give her a cheer in person.” He looked into my eyes, imploring me to join him. I got up in a daze, and joined him. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me before turning to the audience. “Whatever is good in the book is because of her. The mistakes are despite her best effort to educate me.”
The audience clapped. I shut my eyes and let it sink in. Yesterday, I was in the jungle in my jeans and crumpled kurti sharing a meal with a tribal girl. Today, I was in a linen shift and pearls, and all these beautiful people were cheering me. Both the women were me. Life was good.
My eyes sought out Yuvraj. He was the only one not clapping!
_____
I am Mahagauri, the Fairest One. The eighth manifestation of Nav Durga. I am every woman wanting to be taken seriously despite her looks.
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