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