Yes , this is what I call the 'BDSF' syndrome .If a tiny part of you cringed inside ( while reading the title ) ,you are probably a patient too.
It begins at the very outset of life . Right when you jump out of your amniotic sac ,and are handed over to the hawk-like nani/dadi .
Then begins the long list of comparisons,
"Colour went after mom"
"Eyes went after papa"
"Eyebrows were photocopied from the distant mausiji"
"Lips took a flying ticket from that ancestor's phenotype"
And once the wheels have been set in motion, the exercise never stops. The color is kept a watch upon , any minor variations are immediately reported to the head of genetics ( some ancient know-it-all amma ).
Fat baby, short baby, tall baby, cranky baby, skinny baby, stubborn baby. Blah blah blah ! They do it, until the importance of physical appearance has been drilled deep into your cerebrum.
Trust me, no one knows better than I do .
In all the 'well fed' households ( add to that , well rounded house members ), you get over stuffed . You grow into a cute little adolescent with round thighs , rounder face and roundest belly.
You start going to school ,finding out that you can't run .Let's not go into the painful world of childhood pranks and sarcastic comments . Let's just say that the 'baby fat' melts away before you reach college.
Or else , it will be a long series of hiding your body in photos . Also , pulling in your tummy and throwing away 'M' and 'S' clothes.
Oh ! and the dear old omnipresent guilt.
"Arre , you have grown so tall !" , Pammi aunty pinches your chubby cheeks and smiles.
It's like a competition , who's kid has gained how many inches ! Hanging by the bars , drinking 'complan' and other ingenious new methods are put in practice.
Thank God genetics steps in , and saves you from taking all the blame .
But it haunts you nevertheless . Be it the front row of the class photograph ,or the high heels cutting your foot .
If you are a woman, it's excused . The inner pain of a man who cannot find a wife shorter than him, is exquisite.
Well, you keep standing on your heels , and try to look a little higher and higher
You roll up in your bed , cuddling with the soft lumpy pillow . And open your eyes to the mass of fallen hair on your bed . You sit right up ,stare in horror and wave them off with your hand ( like some 80's murderer wiping off finger prints ).
The story repeats over and over again . On your towel , on your table , in the sink and on your coat . The more you worry over it , the more they abandon you.
You try herbal treatment, allopathy, tantra , hair products and God knows what not .
You cover them up with dupattas and caps . You let them grow longer , just to hide that bald patch .
And when nothing works ,you go bald ( or the new age miracle of 'hair transplant' )
But most of us , keep tearing our hair over it !
Ah ! If only Krishna bhagwan was alive , he would probably be advertising 'Fair and Handsome' !
Childhood cruel names , laments of your granny and giggles of your fairer siblings come in a package . You rub 'Fair and lovely' , 'ubtan' , 'malai' , 'face washes' and every other product you can lay your hands upon.
The groom wants a fair wife , the future mom-in-law wants a fair grandchild . No matter if the bride is uncouth , ugly ,rude or bitchy .The bleach of fairness outshines it all.
And there we stand , wrapped in our own miseries and 'inferiority complexes'.
Talents , personalities and morals come second . The sculpture outside ,is always the most prominent .
If you are strong enough , you end up as a 'normal' ,well adjusted person . If you aren't , dear old society shall make you as bitter and unsatisfied as itself .
Wash them away . It shall take years to do so . But do it !
Do it for yourself , do it b'coz your childhood suffered under it . Do it because your youth is still struggling with it . Do it so that your old age isn't sad.
Recognize and value yourself for who you TRULY are . Surround yourself with people who do the same.
Do it for the piece of Him , that lies within you . You are beautiful , eternally beautiful. Forever and ever.