Its been a pretty long time since I lifted a pen to write a piece for the blog. I have been scribbling in my personal diary on and off but somehow, I missed it out on Learner’s Pen.
Anyway, I chose that title even though it does not justify the content below much, is because I think I should brag upon that designation (of being a teenager) while I can (just 4 months now) and secondly because, well, this particular piece is not intended for boys in general. I know I am cutting out on half of my readership but I am also telling the truth.
However, those who are reading; kindly read on.
We just have had a global event at our hands- The International Women’s Day.
No. No. I will not be badgering y’all much with why the fairer sex is better and must be appreciated for all their might but I’ll be taking a break from the tradition and would be simply telling you about my ever-evolving idea of a perfect woman; and rest assured! Its coming from a candid mind. 😉 I would be very keen to know your opinions too.
So the story begins. It all started when I was quite young, probably from the time when I was born. Well, ladies and gentlemen (most probably ladies, due to my above warning), though I was brought down to this earth by a lady doctor, I have been brought up amongst boys. By the time I turned 7-8, my younger sister (at the age of 3-4) had started pampering herself with huge amounts of pancakes and powders, bangles and drapes; and I had started to run away from her for my idea of time-pass used to be playing cricket with the guys, flying kites with them and bruising myself every now and then. I despised the numerous barbie dolls that my father used to buy and they became eternal showpieces in my cabinet for I never touched them. By the time I was in Grade 8 or 9, I realised that I had become a perfect tomboy.
By the time I graduated high school, I started to adore and follow strong personalities like Kiran Bedi and Barkha Dutt. Their machismo appealed me more than anything else and my idea of “how to be” was short hair, loose t-shirts, worn out jeans and a hell lot of courage. I admired girls with no make-up, no fashionable dressing sense but blessed with high intellect, up-to-the-brim confidence and a personality of substance. A girl who could walk and talk the way that would make your insides crawl, not by her looks but by her mere sex-appeal and unique sophistication which came from her extremely high-end grey matter became my dream; and I was on my well-defined way to become like that too.
But then, Alas! ‘College’ happened! Or may be I grew up.
I started appreciating femininity. For me, the alpha-female became not just macho but much, much more. She was intricately beautiful in nature, delicate and yet strong; possibly in a deep backed saree (an Indian dress made by draping a long piece of cloth; this is a pathetic explanation, really; and I am not doing justice to the beauty of this age-old dress). A married woman raising her family (preferably the wife of a high class executive), excelling in her career, having a knack for speaking, singing, writing, playing, impressing and looking great (throw in a couple of things more) oozes a lot more of sex-appeal. A woman who can have a man down on one knee (not in a condescending way at all, I must clarify), be graceful, elegant and sophisticated, and simultaneously strong, snap-smart and independent; someone who can provide warmth and comfort where men can’t; is also sexy. Her beauty lies in the strength of her character, her never-say-die attitude and abounding sophistication. The perfect woman is traditional, in a comforting way, and yet very modern.
Such a woman can have the world down at her feet.
After all, we are the God’s finest creation.
So, as a concluding remark, I would quip that for me on this International Woman’s Day, FEMINISM is IN, is HOT and is also SEXY (if you would have it in your lingo).