deviousways

Sitting in the auto I wondered, are my jeans fitted enough. Or should I lose an inch here, get more toned there? Then I heard a whizzing sound. A woman, ordinary enough, salwar-kameez clad. Torso upwards she was slightly pudgy. But it was her legs that made me instantly ashamed. Shrunken limbs hers were, completely and utterly wasted away. She whirred by me in an electric wheelchair. Looking neither right or left, but straight ahead. Sitting in my auto, bound by my own and society's conventions To look good, to stay young I wondered Is she really trapped, or am I?

Living in courage is such a beautiful phrase, full of meaning. I know women who live like that. Every day. M, a dear friend, is one of them. She is a firecracker of a girl, pint-sized. Always dressed to kill. Wears the highest heels, favours huge, retro sunnies and rocks animal prints. And yes, she colour coordinates everything--from her eyeliner to her bracelet, her lipstick to her nail polish. M has been working since she finished college. Because one fateful holiday, her father and sister drowned in front of her eyes. They were vacationing in Goa then. M and her sister got caught in a rip tide. Their father jumped in to save them. She ended up breaking the news to her mother. Her mother, like many women who were married off pretty young, is a housewife. Her life revolved around her home, husband and children. She never ventured out on her own. Then everything she was familiar with, collapsed around her. That was nearly 13 years ago. M was a young girl then, on the cusp of w...