| Jiel Narvekar | January 2025 | Short Story |
Mira was average.
She was of average height and weight. Neither fair skinned nor dusky. Warm nude or neutral is the shade Mira chose for her foundation.
She was inching towards middle age. Somewhere in her forties. No striking features that would make others notice her in a crowd. Nor was she repugnant to look at. Mira had what one would call a ‘pleasant looking face.’ Comfortable and regular.
She had never been skinny in her life. Mira was often described as ‘in between’ fat and thin. More recently, with slowing metabolism and love for carbohydrates, she began piling on weight. Her features getting embedded in the increasing fat. A few kilos more, and they would be enveloped inside.
Mira was a fairly successful professional, married, with two children who were on the threshold of teenage rebellion.
All in all, everything about Mira screamed typical. She was the quintessential modern Indian woman who lived in a metro city. One of the masses.
Mira was unbothered by her middling status. One that was bestowed on her from the start of her existence.
She was the middle child of her family. Mira’s older brother Lincoln was a doctor. He was a bright lad who was destined to make it big. The universe had aligned seemingly to ensure Lincoln fulfils his destiny. Mira’s younger sibling Neena was a firecracker. Neena was bold, loud and quirky. She was an artist.
Mira was the balancing act between the two extremes of Lincoln and Neena. Their parents never failed to point that out. “Our Mira is average. In between those two. She is the easy one,” their mother would comment to relatives when asked about her children.
Mira was ten when she had heard her mother first referring to her as average. She did not know fully well what it meant, but she remembered being happy. Her mother mentioned that she was easy to manage.
***
“I am normal, Rohan. Not high maintenance. I like simple things,” said Mira when she started conversing with her husband to be, Rohan. It was an arranged marriage. Mira had crushes but never really fallen in love. She was practical that she had to get married at a ‘certain age.’ She did not resist when her parents suggested meeting prospective grooms and reviewing proposals.
“I like average. I do not enjoy big shindigs with all bells and whistles. I like familiarity and simplicity,” said Rohan as he was toying the coffee cup with the edge of his index finger. Rohan avoided Mira’s gaze as he spoke.
Over several coffee dates, Mira and Rohan decided that it made sense for them to get married. They would get to know each other and eventually fall in love.
After a year of being married, they welcomed their first child, a boy who they named Ishan. Two years later, a daughter followed and they called her Ria.
Five years into the marriage, Mira and Rohan had built a family of four.
“Mira, you did the right thing. Got married and started a family. You are blessed, a boy and a girl. You could not ask for more,” Mira’s mother had shared with her after Ria was born.
“You have always been sorted. Easy to understand,” added her mother.
Mira beamed. She considered this as the highest compliment from her mother.
***
“You must come over on time. Do not get the kids please. Just you and Ro. It is an adult party,” said Neena on a call with Mira.
“Okay, I will drop them off at Mom’s and we will be there, on time,” confirmed Mira.
Neena’s husband Zain was throwing her a birthday party. All Neena and Zain’s parties included the usual mix of the artist type friends and colleagues. Their college gang and Mira and Rohan.
Had Neena and Mira not been related, it would seem odd to find her amongst this eclectic bunch.
“Welcome darlings,” said Neena excitedly, hugging and kissing both Mira and Rohan on both cheeks.
“Good to see you guys,” said Zain, as he hugged them both.
The party was on the terrace garden. There was a gentle breeze wafting across, carrying with it the smell of marijuana.
“What can I get you to drink?” asked Zain, as he was ushering Rohan towards the bar.
“You are just the person we were talking about sis. You have to listen to this!” said Neena in her throaty chuckle. “Go on Dash, tell her about the thing” said Neena, motioning Dash with her hands to speak up.
“I am working with this brand at my agency that is looking for the quintessential modern Indian woman. We wanted to find someone regular. No celebrity or influencer types, just someone normal. We will have her try on their beauty care range,” said Dash with a drawl. The effect of the joint he had been smoking kicking in and causing his speech to alter.
“Okay, so?” asked Mira with a puzzled look on her face.
“So that’s you babe! You are the epitome of the modern Indian woman” said Neena, as she made air quotes with her fingers.
“Me! What do I have to do with the new beauty care range? Are they going to pay me for it?” asked Mira, titillated.
The group laughed and Dash went on to explain, “Of course, it is a paid deal. You need to shoot for some ads that would appear on social media. Nothing big, but could be exciting for you.”
Rohan and Zain arrived with the drinks.
“What are you asking Mira to do Neena?” asked Rohan.
“Do not worry. Nothing bad, in fact I am like her agent now. I have landed Mira a modelling job,” said Neena, winking to Rohan.
Mira was pleased. The effect of the alcohol was taking over and she was feeling elated and light headed.
‘A modelling job,’ she kept repeating Neena’s statement in her head.
***
“Just relax. Do not stress. This is easy,” said Dash to Mira as she was getting ready for the camera.
“You are perfect for this!” whispered the camera man. He was trying hard to make Mira feel at ease.
Mira parroted the lines about the lip balm and the special ingredients that made it perfect for a woman like her.
“And that’s a wrap!” said Dash, hugging Mira.
“Can I see the video? I want to see how I look” asked Mira sheepishly.
“Of course,”said one of the assistants moving the laptop to Mira.
“These are the raw images. We will do the touch up, brighten, clean it up. Will look even better,” he said encouragingly.
Mira was hanging around observing people. They all seemed younger than her. Looked trendy. Had an air of confidence irrespective of their shape or size.
Youth makes all clothes look alluring on oneself, though Mira, almost scoffing. This world felt alien to her.
“Oh, I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien
I’m an Englishman in New York”
Somewhere the song ‘Englishman in New York’ popped up in Mira’s head. She pondered if this is what the singer Sting must have felt like in New York.
***
“Kids, come have a look at the video they sent me. Rohan come quick,” screamed Mira excitedly from the living room.
They all huddled around the laptop and Mira pressed play.
The image on the screen looked gorgeous. The soft lighting made Mira look fair, devoid of any pigmentation or dark circles. Her otherwise wavy hair with flyaways, looked lush and thick.
She spoke with an ease. Mira’s lips looked fuller, plump, and pink.
Rohan was brimming with pride.
Ishan and Ria were watching Mira with wide-eyed wonder.
“You look beautiful Mira,” said Rohan, gazing into her eyes.
Mira could not remember the last time Rohan had called her beautiful. Maybe when they first made love?
“Mom, you look amazing! I am going to share this with all my friends” said Ria, hugging her mother.
“I am so proud of you mom for trying something new,” said Ishan adoringly to Mira.
She did look good in the video.
Ria had egged Mira to upload the video on her social media status. Relatives, friends, colleagues, ex colleagues, all sent her congratulatory messages.
Everyone seemed to think she was beautiful.
And Mira believed she was beautiful, in the video.
***
“Thanks for that gig, agent Neena. Does Dash have any more ads where he would want a model like me?” asked Mira over a call.
“No idea. I have not spoken to Dash in a while. Been so busy with this new exhibition. Hope you are coming to see my work sis? At least I will have one sibling there. Dr. Lincoln never has time for me” ranted Neena.
“You saw how my lips looked so full in the video. Do you think I should get fillers?” asked Mira, ignoring Neena’s rant.
She was puckering her face in the mirror as she was speaking.
“Does your dermat do these procedures?” asked Mira.
“Yes, he does. You remember that girl who was with Dash at the party. Dash’s girlfriend, Zoe, she got her cheeks and lips done with him” said Neena, sounding intrigued.
“Zoe looked fake. It was obvious she had work done on her face,” said Mira.
“Zoe had no choice but to go all in, she is a model and is aging. It is normal in their world” reasoned Neena.
“Are you really thinking about this sis?” asked Neena.
“Why not? countered Mira with an air of confidence.
“Will send you the contact. There, sent. Call the guy and check him out” said Neena.
“Okay, see you bye,””, said Mira as she hung up the call absently.
Over the next few weeks, Mira researched fervently about facial fillers. She created spreadsheets to analyse the procedures and costs.
She had zeroed down on lip fillers as she felt it could be a game changer. It worked for Kylie (Jenner) she reasoned. It could enhance my features to the next level.
Mira called the doctor and scheduled an appointment.
She was going to be beautiful in real life too.
***
Once she walked into the clinic, Mira felt surreal.
The air was different. It felt curated. The clinic was situated strategically in a posh locality. Neena mentioned she would often run into minor celebrities at the clinic.
Mira walked up to the receptionist. The lady was attractive. Pretty face, full lips, and high cheek bones. She had a buxom chest which was emphasised by her fitted top.
“I am here for my appointment. I am Mira”, said Mira, trying to move her gaze away from the receptionist’s well-endowed chest.
“Yes Mira, we are expecting you. Please have a seat. Doctor will be with you in a few minutes,” said the receptionist.
“Great, I will wait,” said Mira. She walked back to the couch.
Mira glanced around the room. The eggshell blue coloured walls. The white furniture. The whole place appeared pristine.
“Thanks Doc, see you soon,” said a chic looking woman moving outside the room. She looked familiar. She was an influencer. Mira had often watched her skin care videos.
“Okay Mira, so what do you want to get fixed?” asked the Doctor as he was seated opposite Mira.
The doctor seemed older than Mira. His hands were wrinkled. But his face was smooth. No sagging skin. Pert, smooth. The doctor had been working on himself, thought Mira.
“I was thinking of lip fillers. I think it would boost my appearance” said Mira pointedly.
The doctor looked at her with a hint of a smile. Taking in as if her whole face.
***
Rohan was not keen for her to go through with this procedure.
“You will have to embrace aging. Do not succumb to this midlife crisis,” reasoned Rohan.
“It is not a midlife crisis! I think it looked good in the video and it is something I want to do for myself” asserted Mira.
Not the one to be a wet blanket, Rohan eventually conceded.
“It is your face and it does not matter to me if you get it or not. Nothing changes for me,” said Rohan placidly.
“Neena, I am doing it. I am going ahead with the lip fillers” said Mira on a call with Neena.
“Okay, hope you are aware of the pros and cons sis. The doctor is good.” said Neena.
Neena was generally accepting. She seldom judged. She listened.
Ishan and Ria were not aware of what Mira was up to. They speculated something as their mom had been edgy and excited. Two emotions they rarely associated with her.
Mira went ahead with the procedure. She had taken time off from work, citing her children’s exams. She had planned it well. She knew she needed sufficient time to recover physically and mentally.
Procedure completed; Mira returned home.
Rohan avoided looking at her directly. Ishan and Ria had the opposite effect. They stared at Mira and kept asking her in detail about the procedure. Neena was the most practical. She said it needs time to settle and for everyone to accept this new version of Mira.
Two weeks in, and Mira felt ready to take on the world.
She felt confident in her skin. She caught herself staring at her own reflection in mirrors and screens.
Mira decided to wear a new outfit to work the first day she resumed. She had carefully picked out a new pair of trousers and a top. She had got her hair styled at the salon. She purchased new accessories to go with her new face.
“You look good,” mumbled Rohan to Mira before she stepped out.
“Thanks” smirked Mira, resembling the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.
Mira stepped into the shared cab with the air of someone in control. The next passenger would get in round the bend.
The passenger was a twenty something girl. Headed to her workplace. She wore a fitted black skirt and a blouson top. Hauling a laptop bag, her handbag, and her lunch bag.
She got into the cab amidst the fanfare of her multiple bags rattling. She was on a call, mid conversation trying to settle in.
Mira was irritated.
This girl had wasted time getting into the cab and now they were stuck at a signal. Mira plugged in her headphones and decided to listen to music.
The girl continued talking on the phone.
She mentioned something about facial fillers and Mira froze. She turned down the volume of her music to listen to the conversation.
“I do not understand why older women need to feel young. You had your youth, now age gracefully. It is desperate. And so obvious when you get work done on your face,” said the girl rather fervently.
Mira turned towards her.
The girl became aware of what she had just said and of Mira.
“You look beautiful” she said to Mira apologetically.
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Jiel Narvekar is an HR professional based in Mumbai. She has written HR related articles published in Economic Times HR World, HR Tales and for in-house corporate magazines. Her poem ‘Skin’ was selected for an anthology series with Writer’s Pocket titled – ‘City Lights’. The anthology titled – ‘120 Best Poems, Volume 5’ published by House of Publishing has 12 poems by Jiel. Jiel self-published a collection of 30 poems titled – ‘Melancholy, Maybe’. The book is currently available on Amazon, FlipKart and Kindle Unlimited.
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Feature image by Mateusz Butkiewicz via Unsplash
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