My little hands wore mumma’s Bangles in with red unevenly painted nails. Draped in her red dupatta over my pink night dress with left piece of cloth over my head, I put a blue line with Papa’s ball point pen that looked like weird insect on my forehead. Slightly to the right of the centre because that’s where my heavy bangled hand could reach. I put on my pink lipstick because pink was my favorite color and then went off to my imaginary wedding ceremony in my portable Micky mouse tent in her fancy chappal. I looked just like my aunty who had just got married.
“Ma’am! We are about to close. So,kindly change back if you will. Thank you.”
I came back to reality.
I was standing in the middle of Shopper’s Stop. Wearing a pink poofy frock. Just like the one I had worn on my seventh birthday. As I changed back to my company uniform I realised the small innocent me was so much into the idea that I could become a bride some day. Love some day and live with him some day.
I wanted to skip ahead to the part where everything was perfect. The bride, the groom and the life. Money was too shallow concept to me back then but well, that just was me back then. So much in a rush to grow up. So much hurry to become a bride. So much worried about what sort of makeup would suit me in the wedding that somehow that part of me was oblivious about the innocence I had. Innocence portrayed by inside out dresses I wore, wrong shoes in wrong leg. Putting a dupatta over my boy cut hair to show that I had long hair. Just like Nikita Aunty.
Life was perfect. Why so much hurry? So much rush to grow up?
“Hey! Lady. You look like a little girl. Cute little girl who is at her own birthday party”, the saleswoman said with a pretentious cry. Of course she was trying to sell the pink dress but it kind of made me buy it.
No I am still young. There is a hint of innocence still alive within me.
“It’s not too late.” My mind pondered.