My spunky daughter was having a fun banter with one of my relatives when she was told that she will be missed in the future. “Why? Where am I going? I am here only!” She was perplexed.
“Oh! You will get married and become a member of someone else’s home”, was the answer she received.
Kamya gazed at the fumes which seemed to be taking the form of an abstract artwork. The artist in her always found inspiration in the mundane. The brain wave had swept her away into the tides of unbridled, cathartic imagination. Though blissfully submerged, she was brought back to the realms of reality soon enough. It was that sane, soothing voice which had made her almost jump up in exhilaration.
My confidence is my pair of heels, To me there are layers and peels. My perception of the world is the kohl of my eye, My dreams are the permanent mascara I apply. The blusher on my cheeks is every life I touch, Every smile is my precious jewel that I fondly clutch. My imperfections and scars make me feel beautiful from within, I am a not so Plain Jane who is comfortable in her own skin.