Vanity Fare

This post is a part of one long stretched thought process, consideration of too many practical aspects stalled it being put up but then again practicality was never really my primary reflex action. Although the truth was very much in face, it was ignored but not so comfortable doing it anymore.

We girls swear by a whole lot of cosmetics that keeps us perfect from dawn to dusk. Trust me I can’t live without my kajal for a day even if you paid me your weight in gold to do so. Likewise I have a friend who clings to her lip gloss as if her life depended on it, another who lands up every alternate day with a new shade of nail polish on her brilliantly manicured nails, one who trusts only a certain shampoo brand because it smoothens her hair perfectly, one who prefers a certain facial cream which covers up her skin imperfections; the list goes on & on & on & on……....sorry to burst your bubble folks but what if we are told about the dark murky side of this Oh So Glamorous picks we have made.

What if we were shown the side of cosmetic industry that dwells in scientific labs and the animals that bear the brunt of our pretty faces? Will we be still happy looking at ourselves in the mirror knowing that the kohl that lines our eyes was result of 100s of rabbits going blind? The conditioner that smoothens our hair has burnt the skin & fur off a baby squirrel. A cat has got its flesh stripped till ribs in order to facilitate the exact acid content of our astringent. Did our vanity & beauty come with such a ghastly cost? Maybe we might turn a blind eye stating the so called “practical” aspects but does practicality really mean losing humanity?

It is true we will not be able to eradicate animal testing, it has etched itself in our daily lives. But we can at least make an effort.

How can you and I help to ensure we are not a part of this bloody ritual? Well for starters do our research. The internet is flooded with the truth behind animal experiments in cosmetic industry. It showcases graphic images of how our furry friends are treated and also details of companies who follow these barbaric methods. Boycotting the cosmetics made from these organizations will be a good way to start.

Go for natural ways to polish, nourish & shine your skin and hair.

As far as makeup is concerned, go bare face :)……….. now that really isn’t a coveted option so research more. There exist companies with compassion, who opt for ways of testing with laboratory generated skin cells and human body simulated conditions. A  rabbit logo that looks like this symbolizes animal friendly products .Try using them. The choices maybe limited but it will be worth it.

Heaven knows with what angst I dumped my cosmetic paints and settled for bare minimums, but I love my face more now and most certainly hope bit by bit if we all try maybe someday in the future we will live in a world that does not believe in sacrificing lives for something as trivial as darker mascara.

Warning: No animals were hurt in the process of writing this blog except my roommate who had to bear my constant blabbering.

Girlfriends

Growing up, I hated girls, I hated being one too. I just didn’t understand the fun in dressing up dolls. Usually I thought guys were better friends than girls.

But now that I have reached the stage where I actually dole out advice to my kid sister (what she does with it, I don’t know) I no longer feel the same.

Having a girlfriend is soothing coz she knows you, can empathize with you as she herself has survived your battles. As a teen she understood perfectly well when you revealed your first crush, you tried out new remedies to solve your pimple woes, you lamented when you couldn’t get the stupid mathematics right, you tried to figure out the first adult joke you heard & weren’t sure it meant what you thought it did, you couldn’t decide what you wanted to be when you supposedly grew up.

And now when you have finally grown up, she is still the first one to pull out the highest heels when you want to go dancing, she still wrestles you with the pillows and waits patiently with you till you find your perfect dress, that is when she is not searching other stuff and egging you to try it on. She bails you out when you are literally broke and cheers you up when your heart broken.

You can crib all you want about how crappy your job is, what a jerk your guy is, how difficult your family is, how overloaded your weight is or plain how bad the world is and she’ll comfort you the same without being moralistic or judgmental about you. She will join you for all your disastrous ventures irrespective of the consequences, be it something as plain as painting 10 nails in 10 colors or as overwhelming as bungee jumping…. in the same way she once joined you in sneaking the tiny cigarette and ended up puffing and coughing.

She will tell you plainly when you act like a bitch, watch your back when you are too busy to do it on your own and won’t even mind kicking your ass when you lose your head as she loves you for being you and not restricted by rules and she firmly believes it’s her right to expect the same of you.

And then when you sit reminiscing your days, she will hug you hard because heaven knows she can’t do without you either.

The Girl In The Mirror

Girl in the Mirror she looks so like me

Too much to be true

With deep black eyes and kohl rimmed lines

Wispy curls and toasted smile

She gives me a wink as soon as I’m up

Smiles at me as I rush through my day

Blows me a kiss as I walk out the door

Gives me a hug as I walk in again

Laughs with me in hrs of mirth

Jumps with me as I dance in the rain

Cries with me as I vent out my pain

Shares my coffee on a sunny morn

Gazes with me at a star filled sky

Tells me dreams are easy if I try

Together on a long path we came, together a path more to care.

Girl in the Mirror u’ve always been there

In ups n downs and hope n despair

U look so like me,, so raw so true

Coz U are me and I’m U.

I Love Her, Yet I See Her Die Everyday

Mumbai has been more than city. She is more human than any of her inhabitants. She is more virtuous than any saint. More womanly than any woman & stronger than any of her counterparts across the globe.

She has identity for herself, an identity which is an amalgamation of childish innocence, serene calmness, spunky sexiness, brazen boldness , head held high confidence, troubled soul sadness, intense passion, gentle love, tender care with a hint of street smartness.

But my unflinching, selfless lady still lives & dies at mercy of vicious wolves pawing her from all sides. She lies in slums slathered with layers of sickness & filth. She chokes in clouds of poisonous clouds that burns her green. She lies rotting within heaps of garbage piled on her rivers and ponds. She lies bleeding in every blast and they pass her by without a second glance. Everyday a new wound opens in her body, her every feature lay twisted & the necrophile feasts on her.

She is ruthlessly provoked, tortured, lynched & slaughtered & left to die every single day.

STILL SHE BREATHES, STILL SHE NEVER SLEEPS

Snow White Must Die

Kohl Rimmed Eyes

Blushed Up Cheeks

Cascading Locks

Shimmer Red Lips

A Perfect Smile

A Glance Too Close

Burnt Charred Eyes

Bruised Cheeks               

Scattered Locks

Bleeding Lips

Twisted Smile

Snow White Must Die, She Is No Longer Fair

The Poisoned Apples Burnt Her Core, Her Dwarfs Don’t Care

The Wicked Stepmom Snatched Her Soul

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

When it’s Over Give Me a Call

Thoughts, Thoughts and more Thoughts

I hate cliched thoughts that seems to be have made for the sole reason of making the reader puke (esp if you happen to be someone like me who has somewhat sarcastic view of life) but despite that some unique ones exist that seems to arrest attention. Guess they are fun read.

As we evolve we believe life will exempt us our struggles, "You forget" says the devil with a chuckle "I evolve too"


Sense of humour is just common sense dancing


The trouble with men is that they lack the power of conversation but not speech


Comedy is a sarcastic realization of inescapable tragedy


At times I lay awake at night wondering where I went wrong, then a voice inside me says " This is Gonna Take More Than A Night"


I'm sick of following my dreams, I'll just ask them where they are and hook up with them later.


Dance is like eroticism, one thing leads to another.


Anticipation without anxiety and underneath the feeling "I belong to me, just as I am right now".


When you look at the abyss, the abyss looks at you.

The Color of Love is Red

Happy Valentine’s Day” the shrieks filled the air as she looked upon the young squealing couple; now shaking Red confetti off each other’s hair. The entire coffee house was in a myriad of different hues of Red. Undoubtedly Red was the color of Love.

‘Love’ she thought and couldn’t hide the smirk that escaped her crimson lips. What do they know of this emotion? The obsession? The intensity and darkness? It can kill & die together.

She closed her eyes and the room was still dark, the rocking chair creaked ominously in the corner unaware of the inhabitants. The lone candle casting dark long shadows blinked, threatening to go off anytime. He had insisted in bringing her to this god forsaken place, he had said it was serene, away from the mad bustling world. Had he forgotten to mention it was dark, closed, claustrophobic and dreary? The smell of dust mingled with the musty smell of old wood n cobwebs seem to enter and ravage her mind but it was the metallic smell of blood that was numbing her senses. She glanced up to see her face reflected out …….hundreds, expressionless on the mirror or what remained of the mirror that once graced the wall. And there he was at the foot of the mirror.

Damn wasn’t he adorable, the way he smiled his dimpled smile, the way his intense eyes lit up when he spoke to her, the honesty in them when  he said  he loved her. She could live through thousand perils of hell and not utter a single cry if it was for him. She lived n breathed just for him, until, until he said they were other people with whom he shared his life and they too held a place and he could not always be with her. He said she was a part (though an important one) she was just a part of his life.

‘INCAPABLE’ she had termed him. Incapable of loving her,  just her. Why was it so hard for him to do that when she did it every day? When she had molded herself into everything he wanted….. She loved him to death and only death could do them apart.

He wanted to go, he had to die………….

Her eyes fluttered open as the waiter brought her the coffee mug. Tears flowed through her eyes as she saw the mug. It was red and just like her hands stained with blood.

The color of her love was RED.

One of my "Attempts" at writing something that comes close to horror. Please after reading this do not come back at me saying I need help n stuff.  I'm one of the most happy believers of LOVE in this planet. This is just a dark expression of the most frequently felt emotion.