Who'se the Fairest of 'em all!?

Wise men say, only fools rush in. That's what I think about the Fairness industry in India right now. My line of work requires doing some amount of research online and keeping an eye open for newer/brighter ad campaigns on TV. Although my first love remains 'The Internet" - I do spend a moderate amount of time watching television. So, when I switched on the TV last Friday night, I was reminded at least 10 times that my underarms may not be as fair as that of Anushka Sharma! Yes, now that the FMCG companies have a say about my under-arm complexion I have no other choice but to contemplate the option of either buying an under-arm whitening thingy (deo/creme shit) or never wear sleeve-less clothing ever again. As per the ad campaign, I am supposed to 'go sleeveless on him'. I looked at Batman, sitting next to me frowning at the ad... and couldn't help thinking - is he is watching this commercial and judging my arm-pits! (Please God no).

I am thinking aloud here, so please help me understand one thing. I understand the importance of keeping your face clean/blemish free/acne free and glowing even (glowing complexion is still fine I believe since it's somewhat realistic) - but what I fail to understand is fairness. How long will we keep chasing fairness?  like a dog chasing his tail? It's clear to me somewhat, now that the fairness creams have established the idea of the 'fairer the better' but see, it's not restricted to the face anymore. It's reached arm-pits and God knows to what lengths they'll go next. Knees, elbows & **** (I'm telling you doomsday is near).

I wanna be a dark skinned girl now. I think I'd stand a better chance. For sure. At least I wouldn't have to ridiculously worry about: what if I my arms complexion doesn't match my face ( no I don't use a fairness meter yet). The obsession with fairness has reached new zeniths of atrocity I believe, now that we have under-arm fairness nudging it's way into the consumer's (forced) wish-list.  And, the brain wash continues.... just like they convinced us that we are too fat, too skinny, too short, too everything ...

I pledge to remain mediocre. I am fine with uneven skin fairness and I admit, maybe my hotness quotient will probably suffer going forward due to the lack of brighter under-arms.

But I can live with that.

Thought of the day: Fairness creme massacre- Pumping out tubes of 'em in rampage on the wall while shouting out 'go to hell',  might help you cheer up - 'cos applying them sure won't.

Treasure chest of memories Part III

The small puddle of memory that I splashed around today was primarily the one about my happy place. Probably because I’ve been having a very bad day and I had to escape into that zone where I can comfortably cocoon up. I read this interview of JK Rowling, where she said that magic would always remain a prominent part of our growing up and also of our adult lives. There is no connect with religion here, and it’s not about religion at all. It’s about having some kind of power that helps you be in control of a situation. That’s something we rarely get right? When do we ever have any kind of power to change something that’s going haywire? Magic lets you do things that put you back on the leader-board. So, I wander into that rabbit hole of memory where I am in power. There was this old trunk in the attic inside my aunt’s workshop, which always intrigued me. Never knew what was in there but I liked making up stories about it. I would dress up in my mom’s cotton saree that smelled like jasmine (thanks to the odd amount of starch she used to put in them) and then put on some lipstick, wear some of her fake jewelry and then go up to the roof. I’d then pretend to be the owner of this magic shop where I can conjure magical things that would come out that rusty old trunk and sell them off to my imaginary shoppers. They would come pouring in, one after the other looking for odd things like the horse-hoof lake, the needle through which you can spin of threads of golden fleece and the owl’s feather which helps put people go off to sleep whenever they want to. In exchange I’d take kittens from them, or pickles or ice cream on stick – mainly because I was forbidden to touch these items otherwise. Coming back to the magic trunk – the rusty dusty one was kept in that room for a long time, sometimes covered with cloth, sometimes with things my aunt would make like rugs or tapestry or curtains. I never got to know what was inside but I bet there were things that were wonderful and kind of magical. The summer afternoons were well spent I think, in bargaining with my customers and reviving the barter system: and sometimes they gave me an extra something if they were happy with the products I offered them.  Some day when I own a house of my own, I’ll keep a trunk just like that (not so dirty though) and right by the foot of my bed. I have a feeling I’ll dream of calmer things if I had my happy place right inside my room.

This feeling I almost can't describe...

Insipid, yet volatile.

As I ransacked the place with my eyes & mind

Droplets of memories trickled down me

Insipid, yet volatile 

This place now I can describe

This feeling now, I can accept.

Insipid, yet volatile.

I opened the door finally ...

Only to disappoint myself, and then to smile at my own juvenile attempt.

Nope : can't see what I am looking for, but can't wait either.