Ruby Woo and the associated insubordination

(It isn't wrong to say crises can make you or break you. Whatever I am, as of this August, reflects the slew of emotional changes I've been through over the past few months. The direct manifestation of this rather obnoxious disturbance was my inability to express. I have been extremely distant from my usual articulate self.

Today, though, something stirred within me and the corpse of writing was bought back to life.)

A smidgen of a deep purple lipstick, black eye liner, shimmery eye shadow and a bindi that overshadows thinly plucked brows. This is what the appearance of an average lower income group Indian woman has come to. Income classifications aside, Indian women have begun wearing makeup and I for one, could not be happier.

I have originally been the sort of person who associates makeup or any upkeep in appearance with anti-feminist notions. In sharp contrast, more recently, I have moved on to regarding even a dash of kajal as a secret handshake between women, saying, “Hey, this is the uprising we are a part of.” Having witnessed scores of women asked by their fathers/brothers/husbands to not wear ‘loud makeup’, a bold lip is my favorite symbol of defiance on another woman.
I do not care if you can contour like a supermodel or not, but seeing a maid wearing a nice pink lip gloss, makes me feel like she is overlooking the drudgery of living with a unemployed, drunken husband and accepting her responsibilities as the sole bread winner, proudly.

 Also, this is in no way discriminating against women who do not wear makeup because ultimately appearance is a matter of personal choice, but nothing satisfies me more, than seeing ten different women with the most intense and intricate winged eyeliner in a crowded Churchgate bound train at 8 am.
Multiple Indian middle-class women finally reaching their global counterparts in makeup application might seem like a vain idea but it signifies the snail-paced but growing voice of the Indian woman who is unafraid and unapologetic about her red lip terrifying you. And yes, she will wear it as often as she wants to, lest you sexualize her or her sisters.

Manure

Today I realized why holding manure in your hand, can be the best life lesson there exists.

To experience how inconsequential you are, dig a compost pit and create manure. Every time you regard yourself as someone more than significant to the working of the universe, find some manure and hold it.

Manure is, what we are. Manure is, what we will eventually become.

I am not driving questions at the lessons of self worth which most of us have been taught really well, but a rather subtle reminder, of how the significance of each individual is the same. At the end, each one of us shall decompose to become the same manure. Maybe some of us will yield better manure than others but we will all become the same.

Each one of us, so involved in our lives, with egos the size of mountains, forgets this fact.

Being someone who suffered from this disease of misbelieving that the world rests on her shoulders, I can safely be considered to be one of the best persons to sermonize over this.

It is necessary, to realize who we really are instead of the inflated versions of ourselves, that our ego makes us think we are.  It is also necessary to realize what an infinitesimal role we play, in the gearbox of space and infinity. Holding manure, seeing the ocean makes me see my insignificance. Makes me see that though I might fret over being ignored by my nemesis at a social gathering, the earth will not stop rotating on its axis, the stars will still twinkle at night. It makes me accept the status, which technically equates me to an ant and a lion, all at once.

Nothing drives home the principle of uniformity in diversity, better than this thought of how trivial, we all are.

“For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” (Genesis 3:19)

Good Morning Wali Auntyji!

Which realms of darkness has selflessness faded into?
Or is it just that one is so involved in self that thinking away (less) from yourself seems like a rabid concept?
My personal belief of how you need to walk over people in this "cash-bling-more cash-more bling" world tends to get contradicted.
Contradicted by what I see.

Contradicted by Good Morning Wali Auntyji.

Well that does sound weird but yes I've re-christened my bus supervisor with that title.

This lady replaced our original bus supervisor.
The original one was a creep. Like really!
At 6 in the morning, she used to stare at every individual in the bus with an unfathomable expression and to this day I swear it scared me.
Like freaked me out.
She gave me negative vibes. Really polluted ones.
(Again maybe it was just a matter of perception. But yet.)

Now anyway coming back to Good Morning Wali Auntyji, on her first Monday morning, as I entered the bus, she said something which sounded like good morning. But given the fact that nobody has done that ever before I just dismissed that as my brain having over-exerted.
And then another child got in and she did say the damned words after all!

This "Good Morning" practice went on and she hasn't stopped yet!
I'm just curious to see will it last while she lasts?

This is what set me thinking, about selflessness.
Her job profile nowhere covered that she had to wish children in the morning, all she is getting paid for is sitting on a seat & supervising the children.
Some don't wish her back, some give her a confused look, some do wish her back, but none of that deters her.
It's like a small greeting such as a Good Morning with a smile, first thing in the morning, does make you happy, not so significantly but it's a positive start nevertheless.

I guess I've reached the answer to my question then; No selflessness hasn't faded into the realms of darkness,  there just isn't enough light shining over it. :)