Beauty of a woman

Beauty is a characteristic of a person, animal, place, object, or idea that provides a perceptual experience of pleasure or satisfaction. Beauty is studied as part of aesthetics, sociology, social psychology and culture. An “ideal beauty” is an entity which is admired, or possesses features widely attributed to beauty in a particular culture, for perfection.

That is how wikipedia defines beauty. To be frank all this went just went over my head. I mean how can beauty be something so complicated?

Isn’t beauty something serene and exquisite. Something that touches your soul and stays with you forever in your heart?  Like the beauty of a baby who looks at you with his big eyes so innocently that you wonder how can something so innocent and pure be in your arms in a world where it’s hard to sometimes find a single person who is even true to himself.

And when it come to the physical beauty of a woman, I’m partial towards the Indian woman. I know it’s a biased view but I’ve always felt that the Indian woman somehow stand out.

The deep set almond shaped eyes lined with kohl that mesmerise you.

The Bindi’s in different designs in the middle of the eyebrows.

The perfectly draped sari’s around their bodies in vibrant colours. Or the salwar suits that are worn with bright dupatta.

The elaborately embroidered jutis in their feet.

The long black tresses, woven into braids that touch their waists. The sweet smelling flowers that adorn them.

The jingling glass bangles on their arms that call attention to themselves every time the hands move.

Henna on their hands where the names of their husbands are hidden in the designs.

The jhumkas in their ear’s that sway with every movement.

Yes, the Indian woman in all her traditional form can be so magnificent that nothing in the world can ever come close to this beauty of her.

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Race Against Time- Part 2

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You can read Part 1 of this post here

We were standing on the platform at 5 in the evening thinking we would catch the train.

If only I could explain to how the look uncle and my dad gave me and Mj. It was neither angry nor amused. I just couldn’t put a finger on what kind of expression it was.  And all this was because we had booked these tickets two months back and did not notice this huge  error.

After these two grown ups cribbed about “how the kids these days can do no job correctly” and ”it is a mistake to leave any job for us”, dad suggested that we catch the next bus that leaves for New Delhi. So we headed toward the inter state bus terminal. On the way we also tried our luck at finding any air tickets but all were sold out.

Me and Mj just quietly listened all the cribbing and vowed never to book another train ticket in our life. Well this vow was actually taken by Mj because according to uncle this was the third time he had made such an error. And the worst part is, dad and uncle had almost cancelled this trip so just me and Mj were supposed to come here. I just could not imagine what would have been their reaction to this blunder if it would have been just the two of us here.

We reached the bus terminal and booked our tickets for the bus that left Amritsar at 9:30 pm. Uncle and dad glared at us saying that we would have crossed more than half our journey by that time if we had not missed the train.

But now, there was nothing for us to do but wait around for another 4 hours before we boarded the bus. And the things that popped in my mind on hearing that were Pictures of the Gurudwara at night, Punjabi Jutti’s, and Amritsari fish fry.

Yeah sure I was upset and all about the train thing but the excitement of being able to spend another 4 hours in Amritsar was way more overpowering

So we took a rickshaw and headed back to the gurudwara where me n Mj happily clicked away for another one hour, and this time without being hurried along.

And then came the jutti’s. I went bonkers with all the designs and colours. (Tip- If you ever visit Amritsar, make sure you buy a pretty pair of embroidered jutti. They are beautiful. Oh! and for all those who don’t know this, Jutti’s are the Indian version of ballerina’s)

I would have spent a lot more time browsing through the various designs had I not been accompanied by three men who kept pointing to me that all looked same and I should hurry up and buy whichever I liked.

So I bought a beautiful pink pair and then we rushed to the supposedly best restaurant which served some great fish fry. To say we were disappointed would be an understatement. Iv had way much better fish fry in Delhi. We kept complaining about the fish only to discover that we were again late for the bus. And this time there was no rickshaw to take us to the terminal.

We could not spot a single rickshaw, and uncle suggested that we start walking towards the terminal and look for the rickshaw in the way. He said we should walk but believe me we ran. And we ran like people possessed. I bless my stars that we found a rickshaw within 3 minutes of running or else we would have to leave my dad behind because he really is not the running kind of person.

We reached the bus terminal in good time, found our bus and crashed into the reclining seats , hoping and praying that nobody sits behind us so that we can recline the seats as far as possible and  sleep all the way.

We could not. Because the bus was full and me n Mj just could not go to sleep, so we chatted all the way and fell asleep for like just two hours. We reached Delhi at 5 in the morning. And from the bus terminal we took an auto rickshaw to the railway station where we had parked our car and finally went back home. I don’t remember much after that cause I reached home, kept my bag on the side table and knocked out on my bed for the next 12 hours.