Don’t let it in

 

An infant births, attempts to feed

A toddler watches, attempts to reach

A child comprehends, attempts to imitate

All attempt, fall then attempt again

Their minds alert

Their minds ready to try and learn

To fail and learn

The guardian stands tall, smiles and urges on

Attempts build confidence, ambitions gain strength

 The world is an oyster,

It is then explored; it is experienced

Years pass on

Novelty wears off

The child grows into a person

The person is now the one

With doubts, flaws and no-shows

 As the one attempts to thread a needle to embroider a fine silk,

To navigate a new car out on the road

To put pen on paper

A shadow peeps from the sleeve,

Its grisly red eyes condemning, admonishing the very effort

Struggle to dust it away for it crawls into the mind

Eats into ideas and shatters self-confidence

Criticism, you evil oppressor!

You spew venom before an idea can rise and flourish

The seed of doubt though dormant is now watered

In the creases of the mind wherein lies a grain of hope and of self-doubt

Criticism, crushes the hope, breeds the self-doubt

You let criticism in, you kill your skill

Kill the creations the future yet to behold

Stay strong, Let it sing

But don’t you let it get you

Flood it with your ideas, blinden it with your vision

Don’t you let it in

Let it parch on the confines of your mind,

Shine your ideas on the darkness, let it fade

Shine away

Think more

Create more

In the creases of the mind wherein lies a grain of hope and of self-doubt

You let one grow, you let one die

My makeup lives with me

Another day on its knees, headlights streaming the home bound streets, pretty faces rushing past; smiles galore never mind their fading makeup. I pull out my compact for a look; kajal descending from my eyelids, lipstick nonexistent, sweat lines gathering dust, hair flying out of the bobby pins. My makeup witnessing yet another long day for it worked itself dull through meetings, arguments, tea time napkin smudges, tears trickled during disappointments and pen lingered while in thought. Makeup working as hard as I do.

Oh, how the greasepaint crept into my life! The excessive talc and kajal dots of infancy were replaced by the daily dab of talc, only to be wiped off by the sweat and the downward glide of the oil from my head full of hair. School plays brought about excessive talc and lipstick overriding the tussle with parents at the advent of the greasepaint on my face and into my life.

Makeup was yet to arrive home.  

Till one day, a cousin came and got the innocuous eyeliner along. My eyes suddenly radiated more beauty from being darkened more than nature intended them to be. Then came the euphoria of the first mascara, thrill of a new shade of lipstick and the choice of a new nail paint. Makeup to enhance, makeup to cover up. The whitening talc, shades of lipstick, glossy glitter, deepening blacks; the scented cosmetics gradually - one cosmetic at a time.

The struggle of pulling the eyelids for the straight line or the right mix of light and dark lipstick shades to match the dress, the effort of applying makeup though time consuming was always desirable

The novelty of wearing makeup turned into routine over time. Adolescent years to now, from experimenting to necessity. Now my makeup lives with me, neat layer of foundation, talc patted in, thin line of eyeliner, kajal maybe, and a carefully applied lip colour with a hint of gloss. I peer into the mirror before leaving home. Happy? Confident? Feel Good. What does this greasepaint stand for? I’m looking good. I’m feeling good. Healthy to take on another day? The right makeup colour merging with my skin tone. A brush of talc, line of kajal and a dab of lipstick; my made-up face is as real as I am. My image to world, my identity among people and my feel good when I look into the mirror.  Makeup defines us as much as the choices of the rest of us lipstick shade no darker than your skin, a line of kajal as straight as it can be, bindi or no bindi. Subtle, gaudy, natural, glossy; one for every occasion. How it defines us, the excess of it or the lack of it.

Makeup has a say in the world. My makeup lives with me and works as hard of I do.

Why the need to build up a face? What does a clear, glowing face with pink lipstick say? What is about the plain face? What does a rich red colour lipstick say? Does dark kohl appear vampirish? Would I wear a blue eyeliner and green nail paint? Would I wear a dark brown lipstick? I do draw a line there. Why do I? Because makeup does define us. I carry my mood and my look together. As whole as I am in my one physical self, I look a certain way on a date night and altogether different on my way to the beach. My face is a palette of subtle pinks and nudes at school for my children’s school meeting while it is a party of vibrant red and gold during festivals and occasions.  

My makeup is part of me; living with me nurturing me through cold winters and scorching summers. My makeup has hid my blemishes growing up, adorned me as I turned from a maiden to a married woman, streamed from my eyes when touched with sorrow and left a sign of love with the perfect pout of a kiss.

 

 Anuradha Miraji