BEAUTY UNLEASHED.....

I met her in late 2004. It was the introductory class of the Japanese Language Training Programme at RMIC, Kolkata. Though I had been a college-goer since the previous year, yet, as I moved in through the heavy iron gates, I could feel my pulse somewhat increasing: the gravity of the institute had overtaken me.

With cautious steps, I entered the sparsely populated classroom and chose a seat after a quick look around. As I settled down at the desk, I heard a polite steady voice at a proximity that made me feel that it was addressed to me: "Excuse Me Please!"

I looked up.

The eyes that looked at me through a pair of spectacle lenses almost hypnotized me! What strange eyes they were! Arguments regarding whether they were big or small; black, brown or hazel; would never strike one's senses. The first look suggested that this vision had an inapprehensive influence – free from all hesitations and doubts; complete with a clean, steady energy.

"Would you mind if I take this seat?" – She asked, pointing to the seat next to me.

"I won't mind...Please... " – I replied, somehow concealing the lack of composure that her bold, steady look had caused to set in me; and so it was.

She moved to take the seat. It was only then that I realized that I had been so overwhelmed with her eyes, that I hadn't seen even the rest of her face properly.

I took a look. Nothing appeared extraordinary – 'wheatish' complexion that leant on the darker side; a broad forehead; flabby cheeks that rendered her chin and jaw line somewhat inconspicuous and lips that fitted well in her face, but could not be called 'delicately carved'. Her high cheek-bones made her somewhat broad nose appear to be fitted on to its place as a separate piece, rather than being chiselled out from the rest of her face. She wore her thin wavy hair short, just covering her neck, with a boyish fringe about the forehead – in a way that made it appear more voluminous than it actually was. But there was something in her countenance – in her expression – that gave her a certain inimitable enigma. To an onlooker she appeared as a bright, clear portrait drawn by bold and sharp lightning strokes! The world around, in its entirety, bowed down – in honour – before the sheer freedom of her being.

She wore a cotton salwar and a kurta that kept her comfortable in the hot and humid weather; but what was particularly noticeable was that it was not just another 'dress-set' available at New Market or Gariahat. In fact, I, a regular shopper in the most popular markets of the city, had rarely seen anything like the ones she was wearing. The design and the colour combination suited her so perfectly well that I mistook it to be a new fashion! A quick conversation, however, revealed that she had selected the material based on her needs of the season and then designed the outfit that would give her the look that she desired for herself!

Amazed, I asked – 'Is this something you usually do?'

'Not usually, this is what I always do.' – came the crisp, clear response. For the first time I saw her smile – innocent and confident.

'How do you keep up with the fashion then?' – I asked curiously.

Once again her sharp voice of reason answered – 'Well, that's simple. I don't keep up with itJ. For me, Form always follows Function.'

Stunned at the response, I was still wondering about her ways when the bell signing the beginning of the class rang. A middle aged lady entered and took charge. After a small briefing about the rules and discipline to be followed in the classroom and the institute, she proceeded to take the roll call. Only now I realized that I did not know the name of this strange lady sitting next to me.

'Aparajita Mitra'- the teacher called out.

'Yes Ma'am' – my companion responded.

The exercise continued for another twenty-four students; before we could start with the language. Though the class proceedings were nothing out of the ordinary, yet, Aparajita made them remarkable. Her questions were sharp, intelligent and witty; at each step she sought a deeper insight and presented a new perspective. I could see that through the language she wanted to learn about Japan's evolution as a nation and as an economy.

As the class ended, I attempted to resume the conversation with Aparajita. We talked while walking down the corridor to the institute's exit and then down the street to the bus stop. I came to know that she had done a thorough homework. She had the history of Japan on her fingertips and knew how the language had evolved over the ages. She knew how the Japanese economy worked, the work-culture of the country and the lifestyle of the different socio-economic sections and could compare the Japanese situation with India, China, France, Germany, USA and Latin America!

During the course of our interactions, I learnt that this was second nature to her. Unlike most students, examinations were never her motivation for studying. In fact, she hardly bothered about scoring high. For her studying was a hobby! In her quest of knowledge, she went in to the depths of the subject; and was happy as long as it added on to her knowledge – even if it meant faltering at examinations! She patiently allowed mediocrity to take its own time and toll over her, before attempting to venture into becoming extra-ordinary.

With the passage of time, as our interactions increased, I came to know Aparajita more closely. The more I got to know her, the more I revered her. At times, I envied her too.

With my shoulder-length hair styled at one of the best salons, coloured contact lenses that gave my big eyes the trendiest appearance, slim build and fair complexion, I generally passed as beautiful. In addition, I took note of the latest fashion and chose my outfits and accessories accordingly. Convent education, fairly high examination scores, 'girlish' extra-curricular activities that were good enough to bring in some recognition at the district levels – I had it all. I spoke more English than Bengali, even when it wasn't really called for – I could speak English without the touch of vernacular accent – something that most Bengalis (educated at the state-run schools that promote only the local vernacular) faltered at; carry myself quite decently in western outfits; chose gadgets that though the least expensive, were fashionable; and frequented the popular hang-outs in the city. In short, I had a lot that (I thought!) was worth a good degree of pride.

Aparajita, on the other hand, didn't have the best of features, nor was she the bubbly, outgoing and overly friendly girl, straight out from the middle class soap opera. She possessed and nurtured a fierce sense of independence; was head-strong – at times rebellious; did not comply with most of the accepted, unwritten rules laid down for Bengali girls of her age group and socio-cultural status; quoted Hemingway, Keats, Tagore, Premchand, Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Oppenheimer, Charlie Chaplin, Eddie Albert, Rousseau or Voltaire when we would do with a popular Hindi movie dialogue; carried the sari and the jeans & tee-shirt look with equal ease and grace; read around five national and international newspapers every morning; spoke, read and wrote three Indian, two European and two Asian languages; would be the only girl to play badminton, table-tennis, basketball or volleyball in a group of boys; drove expertly through the notoriously busy city streets; and spoke learnedly about a variety of fields – ranging from technology to socio-economic-political schools of thought when most others around found it easy and safe to draw extensions from the already established ideas.

I considered myself to be a representative of the twenty-first century diva. Yet, whenever Aparajita was around, she was the centre of all attention – of the young and the old; of the witty, the intellectual and the mediocre alike. She was never 'one among the crowd'; there was an aura in her – that made her particularly noticeable – differentiated from the crowd.

Little things she said and did made huge differences.

When my ruby studded necklace failed to draw her attention even after my continuous fiddle with its locket, I categorically mentioned it to her. With an innocent satire, that had the essence of exercising a sense of right over a friend, she said that it looked good; ... "but...I'm not the right person to comment on jewellery. I have never been much interested in such stuff" – she added.

I had noticed that Aparajita didn't have the plain, light gold chain that adorns the necks of almost all girls and women in this part of the country; neither did she change her earrings to match her dresses – something that most young girls of our age group usually do; but had never dared to imagine that it could mean 'a lack of interest' in jewellery! It was difficult to accept for a person like me, who would spend hours on the city streets, trying to match accessories with a dress. For special occasions, I had special jewellery sets – complete with earrings, bracelets, rings and neck-pieces. I loved 'looking good'!

'How can one not be interested in her own looks? The basic accessories – a ring, a minimal neckpiece or pairs of earrings that match one's attire are necessities!' – I was more confused than shocked at her answer.

After spending quite a few words, Aparajita explained: "The wish for the use of jewelleries – or any other adornment for that matter – come up; only when, there's doubt about the clarity of what can be evidently sensed and seen. When the mind happily endorses what the eyes see, as 'Enough', then neither does it need an artificial or synthetic colouration, nor any additional ornamentation."

To be honest, I did not understand a word of this somewhat philosophical dictum; but the calm, confident authority with which it was thrown in, made it sink. With time, I did understand what Aparajita meant. Beauty – the form of it that she desired for herself – has its source in itself; it cannot be encapsulated in jewels; its purity lies in its simplicity and in its imperfection. Praise forms no part of it – it neither gets better, nor worse by the presence or absence of praise.

At another instance, during a friendly alteration, one of her elder cousins pointed out that being senior to her by nearly three years; he stood a greater chance of earning his master's degree before her. With a calm yet challenging smile, Aparajita replied – "From the bicycle to the first salary – I have earned everything before you could...it'll be same for the Master's Degree as well!" – And...She meant it. The brutal elegance, with which the statement was snapped in, sent a chill down the spines of the shallow and the grave heads alike.

Aparajita has a style – that, in its entirety, is her own. It is reflected in her conduct and her enterprise – not only in her attire; but also in her choice of arts and literature, her speech and even in her silence! She says – "Fashion is a mask; Style is the face – that reflects the real person. Style belongs to the classy – the ones who confidently rely on their own tastes; Fashion is a tool of the lot – who, in search of social security, depend on the pleasure of the crowd." Indeed, her originality is so obvious that it renders all ritualistic behavioural tokens meaningless.

Before long, I realized that I belong to the latest lot in a trendy market – one of the top-ranked packets in fashion's circles; packed from head to toe in a catchy wrap, with careful delicacy. Aparajita is like the bright sunny morning after a rainy night, the beauty of which lies in its fresh enthusiasm – free from the dizzy lethargy that prevents one from venturing into the new. The undisturbed peace that reflects on her face does not come from a fulfilled heart; the depth of a mind capable of rational processes contributes much more to it.

I am in my youth – the stage that has been enforced on me by chronological records; Aparajita's youth in incalculable – it lies in the unadulterated youthfulness of her mind and soul. It is unfettered by all crippling tendencies around; it's a strong flood that can engulf everything around her.

Meeting, seeing and knowing Aparajita was an eye-opener for me. I realized that while I could only be called a prototype; Aparajita genuinely represents the modern woman. She is a complete picture of womanhood – endowed with the powers of creation, destruction, extreme tolerance and concentration – in the perfect proportion! She owns her passions and can direct them at her will; while I am guided by mine.

At times, it did appear to me that she harbours a superiority complex – she does and she accepts it. According to her, she had a choice – of being what she had presently become or of flowing with the tides. She had chosen the first option, because it appeared 'superior' – to her sensibilities. "It's just like preferring a fresh baked cake over another one packed, preserved and refrigerated a week ago!" – She said.

Aparajita induces an inferiority complex in me. I have secretly tried to outsmart her, I failed each time. I have tried staying away from her, but, more often than not, I want to be like her. I have tried to emulate her – it didn't work. How could it work? I had never given enough time to develop myself as an individual – my likes, dislikes and tastes were not mine, they were just a reflection of the collective psyche of the massy middle-class society. In desperation that a sense of defeat brings in, I have run back to Aparajita. This time she exuded confidence. She says that only I can do it. I am still trying.

Meanwhile, Aparajita is happily enjoying her imperfections, earning more reverences and some envy too. There are people who love to hate her; but there's none who can completely ignore her. That's Aparajita – the one who is never defeated; the one who doesn't give anybody on earth or heaven, the right to define or mould her – blessed with the strength and beauty of truth and freedom of the mind!