Beauty and beyond

I wrote this piece after I returned from the one of the most celebrated occasions in the country; the Thimphu Tshechu.

I didn’t force my unenthusiastic soul to labour through the crowd to find a place under the scrooching sun to view a little of the manifestation of the afterlife, which I don’t really understand. So I stayed home helping myself in making it feel like a real holiday. My idol holiday is the one I don’t have to get up until 10am, and have nothing else to think about than to think how to spend the time doing almost nothing.

But in the evenings when I had nothing to do I liked going to town to see this rare sight of Thimphu town being a horde of people; not vehicles. It was so much like its neighbour country; packed.

In the midst of the crowd, flashy dresses always stood out and never failed in getting my attention and many more’s. Especially when it was of the other gender one had to give it a look. Some were smart to be subtle while others were so caught off guard that they forget they belong to a more developed society, perhaps enjoying the perk of anonymity.

I wonder where all this flowered, silk, brocade dresses have been hiding all this time. They almost appear out of nowhere. It is like thousand marriages coincide and there are brides and grooms in this huge marriage room; the street.

I accept, the girls look more attractive, almost all of them and just for the record it is not being pervert if you are staring at beautiful people: it is called acknowledging. Frequently I had to walk purely on the instinct of my legs for my eyes were caught on so many well ornamented girls, like the compass needle to north. All those who were not worth the second turn were eye catchers. Beautiful dress, well make over face, and the shine of the occasion was perfect recipe for such beautiful cuisine.

But there in the crowd that caught me the most was this girl, I am sure she lives nearby for I have seen her many times. Like every other day she was still the least dressed person, even in the ramp of the occasion. That day she had poka dot pyjama pants, plain white t-shirt and a light pink sweater on, accompanied by her usual flip flops. Yet in all the decency of her dress, she caught me, she was the focus point of my entire universe of beautiful girls. She in a way shocked me.

She shocked me for there were more glamourous many yet she caught me most. All the ornaments and beautiful dresses with the magnificent make over was run out but her flip flops. It is here she taught me that beauty is not in what you show to people, it is not in your dress, not in your shoes, not in your ornaments, nor in anything tangible as the skin. It was way beyond and depth. It was beyond the façade. It was rooted deep in your charisma. It could not be explained or measured. It could only be felt and feeling it, is how you knew that she had it, she had beauty.

There was no container to contain beauty inside than the one who had it. Beauty was infact more complicated an adjective than it seemed but she had it. While us who didn’t have it, had to polish it with other means we knew.