Beautiful!
I can get real crazy at times. It was a dull saturday afternoon, and I had spent the whole day doing nothing. I hadn't planned anything for this particular weekend, coz I had meant to do nothing. I had had a long week in office, and I wasn't in the mood to strain myself anymore. But, suddenly, a kind of restlessness sunk into me, and the next moment I saw myself, all dressed up and ready, I was gonna go to the near by health and glow. This is one shop, second to the stationeries and book stores, that I love to visit. So off I was.
I stepped into the cloud of dust outside my building, and I wondered for the umpteenth time, why we had chosen this place, next to the highway, to live. With loads of sand on my face, as though nicely made up with some compact powder, I managed to hire an auto. In less than ten minutes, I reached the shop. I went in.
Beauty is a wonderful thing. I mean, people seem to be ready to do anything for it. Here I was, in this classy shop, where everything looked too good to be true, specialists offering to cure you of every damn thing that ever existed on this earth. There were remedies for everything. Whether you have a dark skin, or dull hair, or perhaps a cracking foot, or a loose tummy, you name it and they have it. People hovered about every counter.
I entered the cosmetic section of the shop. Ladies gathered in big numbers, trying this and that, batting thier eyelids, smacking their lips, studying their nails, looking shimmery and glossier than ever. I picked up a few enamels myself, without trying or contemplating, just like you would buy a packet of your favorite chips. A cream, a shampoo, some cotton, and I was done. I paid my bill and stepped out.
I felt beautiful. I walked along the side of the road, now and then, stopping at the book vendors, who had laid out duplicate books of famous authors, on the road. I was on my way back, with just one feeling, I wasn't happy or sad. I was plain beautiful. For, I was alive.
I stepped into the cloud of dust outside my building, and I wondered for the umpteenth time, why we had chosen this place, next to the highway, to live. With loads of sand on my face, as though nicely made up with some compact powder, I managed to hire an auto. In less than ten minutes, I reached the shop. I went in.
Beauty is a wonderful thing. I mean, people seem to be ready to do anything for it. Here I was, in this classy shop, where everything looked too good to be true, specialists offering to cure you of every damn thing that ever existed on this earth. There were remedies for everything. Whether you have a dark skin, or dull hair, or perhaps a cracking foot, or a loose tummy, you name it and they have it. People hovered about every counter.
I entered the cosmetic section of the shop. Ladies gathered in big numbers, trying this and that, batting thier eyelids, smacking their lips, studying their nails, looking shimmery and glossier than ever. I picked up a few enamels myself, without trying or contemplating, just like you would buy a packet of your favorite chips. A cream, a shampoo, some cotton, and I was done. I paid my bill and stepped out.
I felt beautiful. I walked along the side of the road, now and then, stopping at the book vendors, who had laid out duplicate books of famous authors, on the road. I was on my way back, with just one feeling, I wasn't happy or sad. I was plain beautiful. For, I was alive.
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