The More Beautiful One

Ankita was a beautiful lady.

You know, the one with big expressive eyes, sharp nose and a smile that could light up the world. She was slim, dusky and tall. She had long slender fingers, her hair were thick and dark and her skin glowed like…like an oil lamp.

With such a perfect figure and features, she turned heads wherever she went.

For some, she was beauty personified.

Poems were written on her beauty. Love letters were endlessly composed for her.

Her mere presence would brighten up the space. Any space . May it be a gathering, home, office or even the marketplace.

No doubt her husband considered himself lucky to have her.

She considered herself lucky too.

For she knew that beauty was a gift.

When she smiled, people smiled back. She had the power to uplift moods. She had the power to draw attention.

Her beauty was her identify. It was one of the most important elements which built her self-confidence.

It was not that her beauty got into her head. She was almost as beautiful from inside. It was inside beauty that lent softness to her face and persona. She had a big heart. She helped others when they were in need, and forgave easily.

Its was just that she cherished her beauty and never took it for granted.

It was one of her most prized possessions.

She took pains to maintain it. She got up early, exercised, ate well and usually stayed calm. But, since the last few days she was under terrible mental stress. She would freak out at the slightest instigation. She was not her usual self.

It was because her husband had shared with her, his wish to start a family soon.

Ankita knew that she would have a child sometime but she kept pushing that sometime to some other time.

But now, it seemed inevitable. There was no point in buying more time.

It was not that Ankita didn’t want children she adored them but it was purported physical transformation of her body that bothered her great.

She had observed other women during and after their pregnancies. They looked pitiful to Ankita.

How would the world react to her if she went through the same transformation?

Would they still notice her? Would she still charm them with her smile?

Would she be given the same pitiful looks?

Would she herself be ashamed of her looks?

There was no point sharing her woes with her husband or friends. They wouldn’t understand.

It would be temporary phase, they would say.

She knew that too but what if it’s not. Her whole identify, her self-worth was at stake.

Lost in these thoughts, Ankita entered the lobby of the shopping mall which she usually frequented.

At the corner of the lobby she found a child who seemed lost. The child must be around 2 or 3 year old and was sulking. Aware of the soothing effect she usually had on people she approached the child and asked him softly : "Are you looking for someone ?"

The child was almost on the brink of tears and said "My mumma . I want my mumma."

"That’s fine. We will find your Mumma. Tell me her name and how does she look like?" said Ankita.

"Her name is Mumma and she’s beautiful….Very beautiful My mumma."

Ankita smiled and held the child's hand, while she looked around.

A short and stout lady came rushing to the child. On a closer looked Ankita observed that she had dark patches on her hands and face.

One look at that lady and the child broke free his hand from Ankita’s and sprinted towards the lady.

"My beautiful Mumma!"

"My child, my dear dear child", said the lady while kissing her child again and again.

The lady now looked up at Ankita, she eyes were teary but she smiled gratefully at Ankita. Ankita noticed that her smile reached her eyes and lit up her features. She didnt speak a word but her eyes, her whole body was reciting poetry. There was a shine that engulfed her whole being. She was indeed how her child had perceived her.

She was beautiful.

She was Love.

She was the more beautiful one.