Still Life

A common thread runs among all the places I like to hang out at, they are the ones that let you be, they have no dress code, no unsaid rules on your shoes or your clothes such places let you breath,they let you do what you are there for. Unfortunately work places aren’t of those kinds, but you wish they would be, since you spend most of your waking hours there. Ironically, the freedom of being liberated by education gets limited by our desire to become a professional.

‘m referring to an article I read in Times recently, about growing discrimination at workplaces, and it wasn’t clichéd gender/sex/race, discrimination, it was the superficial kinds, the kinds that make you wish you had washboard abs, slimmer legs, or worse, it was the kinds, that makes you hate who you are, than what you have become.

Instantly I felt myself filling up with hot rage, drowning in so much anger and outrage, not because I thought that article was directed to me, but I know it spoke to some, who probably missed a meal that day or went half hour extra to the gym.

Now there is a lot about this productivity bull crap that I don’t buy, for example, one article said that, the weight of an employee is inversely proportional to their career and remuneration growth. (Bull shit!!).That’s like justifying that women should be paid less because they shall avail of maternity leave at some point of time in their life.

I don’t believe that productivity benefits based on employees potential health condition has anything to do with employers. However I do believe ones appearance has a lot to do with opinions made on the so called professional workplace or even in their daily lives

This is prejudice- it is never reasonable and therefore cannot be reasoned by logic. But before you are quick to label me as a hypocrite (especially when I posses the irrational ability to spend a handful of mere boots) Let me clarify, that I aint against being concerned about your outer self, but I am at people judging you on the basis of that.

I am not polishing my halo, but you see- I haven’t tasted perfection, so I don’t know how that feels, I never let it settle in my marrow before I began to look for flaws. And I believe that, perfection is what we all seek – for respect. Respect that makes up for the lack of, many things!.

But the truth is respect is a cold bedfellow. It is just pride- the kind of pride that wrinkles its nose disgustedly at you when you know you are being undervalued, when ‘almost’ just doesn’t become ‘enough’ anymore, for any of us.

But somewhere I hope we are willing to take that in the lieu of abject self respect (or in my case sheer boredom)-that pulls you up short of a folly, or perhaps from the truth-who knows. Even when I could do better-I’d chosen not to.. for various better reasons.

(Too late! Too late!)

Perfection- even its fickle beauty so tainted, by my own knowing hands, does not wash clean-all my Lady Macbethian efforts wasted. And knowing that, accepting my incompleteness, resigning myself to this shallow world, my ego will never knucle, kneel or break down in supplication.

A friend shares a thought with me, What it boils down to,she says,is on all the planes you exist in this superficial world- among friends, with a lover, in a boardroom - nothing can make up for an impefect body,beauty or lack thereof!

But, some part of me - and I dont know what she likes to wear, I dont know if she wears a saree or if she smokes - rejoices in imperfection still!!