by Aman Chougle
[box]As teenagers, what makes us consider a woman beautiful or attractive? And what happens to this definition as we grow up? Aman Chougle pens a story on the narrow perspectives of how men – and the society – view women, and why these narrow definitions might be to our detriment.[/box]With a Greek nose, disarming grin, and long tapering fingers like that of a veteran artist, she was pretty in her own way, but we didn’t think that of her in school. When you’re a teenager, what you say you find attractive doesn’t often come from you, but from the level of acceptance the other person has as being attractive in the eyes of your peers (this is not to say that this always goes away later on, though). She didn’t have that, and so she didn’t have boys running after her. Even the ones who might have had a crush on her most probably kept it to themselves.
When we were in class eight she had a crush on me. When I first heard of it, I thought it was a joke. I was completing my homework during a free period, copying it from someone else’s book, when suddenly she appeared from nowhere at my left, lightly slapped me, and sort of floated back to her bench. Naturally I was a little taken aback, and when I gazed in her direction, I saw that a small crowd had gathered around her bench. All of them were laughing looking at me. When I asked one of them later on, he said they were playing “Truth or Dare”. And then I asked why me, and he said, “’Cause she has a crush on you, dumbass!”
I didn’t take it that seriously at first. But as time chugged along, her flirting (if it can be called that) made it obvious. She’d always be writing my name on things, like during the computer period she’d always use my name for saving files and documents. And then her friends would amplify whatever she was doing so that they could “bring us together”, and have a laugh at us at the same time. Once I remember she wrote my name and enlarged it on the computer screen. My name was in pink and she was staring at me, and it almost looked as if a stupid hippie girl had found a new bogus spiritual-guru. And like how when away from the girl the guru’s amused by her, I was curious as to what she found so attractive in me.
I never reciprocated that whole game of hers. Back then, like I said, she wasn’t considered as one of the attractive ones. Your aim most of the times were the ones that had an eight to nine out of ten score on them. All this may sound cold and cynical, actually it is cold and cynical, but that’s how things were back then in school, most likely things are much worse now. You’d conform to these absurd rules, not giving any heed to what you really wanted, and most of the times you were embarrassed with what you really wanted. Girls are better in that respect, a bit more humane. Somehow I feel they can look over that superficial trait of conventional beauty better than us when it comes to boys, even though they themselves subscribe to these standards of beauty.
Her bench-partner was another problem. She’d always push her to do more, as if what she was doing wasn’t enough. If I were around she’d ask her, “Do you like Aman?” and the girl would say yes in a jiffy. Her partner would then look at me and say, “See!” and I’d stand there embarrassed like a small boy who has wet himself. Funny how I wouldn’t even look at her, but I had already labelled her as unattractive in my head. I guess that’s how ignorance works. Slowly we became friends. The flirting didn’t stop, it would come up every now and then, and then I’d be silent and awkward for a minute. If we were to play ‘Truth or Dare’ the same thing would happen – it would be implied in the questions asked and challenges given. I should’ve just said it out loud, “Enough! I get it, you’re after me.”
Then there was the time a few of us went to her house after tuitions. Her meddling bench-partner was there of course, and I’d taken a friend of mine. We ate some snacks made by her mother and then went on the roof. There the other boy and I told them jokes that made them go, ‘Haw!’ That friend of mine also whacked me a little because I was calling him names. Back then getting your ass kicked in front of girls was so embarrassing, even though it didn’t matter to them much, and in fact they’d always sympathize with the one beaten-up.
As we were climbing down to go back to her house, she did something that truly alarmed me. We were just about to enter her house, when the next-door neighbour, a woman probably in her early thirties, opened the door. There were both good friends – it was obvious by the way they greeted each other – and then she said, “This is the boy I was talking about.” She presented me like she were some host at a game-show, and I was some little prize to be won at the end of the show. Maybe I’m reading into things, but it seemed like that, and I for one was very alarmed.
I liked one thing about her though, the fact that she was a foodie. Girls nowadays take things a bit too far with this dieting craze going on. They’re already skinny but they still want to diet, as if they want no flesh whatsoever, like the wing of a bat. Nowadays you even hear twelve year olds talking about skipping their meals, and not eating fried stuff. And you’re like, “Sweetheart, you’re too young.”
During class twelve I had a girlfriend who had the same problem. She was skinny, but she’d still diet. She’d skip breakfast, and only eat very little during lunch and dinner. Her arms were so thin that they would sometimes disturb me, say when she’d wear something sleeveless. Once we had bunked and gone to a café nearby. She was constantly complaining about how hungry she was but she wouldn’t eat anything as it wasn’t lunch yet. After few minutes of pestering her to eat something I left her to her own devices. She had coffee, though that wasn’t such a bright idea, for coffee always makes you hungry. We left the place around noon. I remember she was walking ahead and as soon as she stepped out, the October sun hit her head, and she fainted flat on the pavement.
This girl wasn’t stupid like that. In fact during recess you saw her thoroughly enjoy her meals. I know fat is repulsive; with all that unutilised energy hanging there like a suspended water-balloon, that person’s body becomes a nasty symbol of inertia. But the other end of the spectrum is not that pretty either. I don’t even know how being a skeleton has become sexy all of a sudden.
Men, most of them anyway, like some meat on the women they date and love. I’m not talking about being a Sumo-wrestler, but you know what I mean – something enough to sink your teeth into. Anyhow, the bottom-line is: eat well and be happy.
As I wouldn’t do anything, the girl eventually lost her interest in me. Things were smooth, and her flirting, like a tide ebbing away, finally started receding. After a few months I heard nothing of it, and then one day I found out she was into some other guy from school. Unfortunately even this didn’t materialise into anything. She was not the type an average teenager would fantasize about. She was the one you’d want to be good friends with, but not date. The girl whom you’d call when you’re feeling lonely or insecure, because she’s the only one who’d listen, and because you know you can’t do this with any of your male friends. Like an “emotional-tampon” she’d bear all your sad nonsense. A girl you should be dating, but would never. Not when we want to parade them around like fashionable sport cars. A beautiful object that’s now under your possession, because you’re “The Man”.
*
I hate it when I see these TV shows where they take a person, wipe out all of his or her “imperfections”, and then make him or her conform to these very narrow standards of what they think is beautiful. Those “imperfections” are what makes them human. What great harm could come from one person looking radically different from another? I’m not saying I’ve never fallen prey to the deception – this story proves otherwise – but I’m tired of it now; it’s just so constricting, so empty. Let’s be free from all this nonsense!
*
I met her once during my senior college years. We had a long conversation by the side of a pavement, and the fact that she had a crush on me came up. We were mostly rallying jokes about it, and jokingly she asked why I wouldn’t accept her as a girlfriend. In reply I gave her the usual “Your desperation made me suspicious of you” excuse. I don’t know if she bought it or not, but anyway, I couldn’t tell her what I told you.
Aman Chougle is a sound engineer. He loves music, books, and collecting paintings. Besides art and reading, travel, nature, occasional cooking, and meeting the multifarious lives of this planet are his other interests. He’s currently working on his first novel.
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