This story dates back to the year 2015. Not very long ago, you see. I had a new neighbour from some part of another metro, who had just moved in. Now before I go on to introduce her, let me throw some light on “yours truly”.
I am essentially laid back and easy. I hate sprinting around and would rather be found slouching in my chair, wearing my most noteworthy “pyjamas”. Yes, catch me whenever I am home, in this unmissable attire. Somehow, I have never been comfortable moving around the house dolled up in the most promising outfit. Not that I have anything against those who walk out of their bedrooms each morning like a breath of fresh air! But, not me.
This story also dates back to the year when I had a favourite pink pyjama that I refused to give up on.
And now, for the new neighbour. Each morning, as I stood in my balcony trying to soak in some fresh air in the hope that I would be resurrected from slumber, she stood at the other end in her fineries, sipping tea or reading the paper. In the beginning we exchanged a few smiles and then graduated to waving at each other. She, in the most glamorous outfits and I, in my random pickings from Sadar. Sometimes, I would want to dig a burrow and hide right there until, at least, I managed to do something about my dishevelled hair.
We were quite a contrast to each other. Her eyes, almond shaped, laden with dense eye lashes in comparison to my tiny orbs hardly visible behind thick-rimmed glasses. Her tall and slender frame; my summit, a mere five feet above the ground. Her wardrobe, every neighbour’s envy; mine, a not-so owner’s pride.
After a few weeks of smiling and waving at each other, one day, we finally caught up over a cup of morning tea. She came dressed for the occasion while, as usual, I langoured in my pink pyjamas. I had hoped to do better than that but eight was too early for me to even slip into a decent pair of jeans. I managed to do my hair and look a bit presentable, though. Her fresh lemony perfume filled the air around us as my eyes rested on her perfectly painted face.
Needless to say, showering compliments couldn’t have been skipped. I told her that how I had begun to admire her sense of dressing up and was hoping to get some lessons from her, now that ice had been broken. I also ensured pointing out how inspired I was to get a new look and refurbish my wardrobe.
She listened and expressed her gratitude from time to time. When I finally finished, she said,
‘I’ve been wanting to ask you where you got these pink pyjamas from. They look so comfortable and I would love to own a pair.’
I was dumbfounded at what I heard. Someone had eyes for my “pink pyjamas”! It was almost unbelievable. I had this urge to pull her by the arm and take her to my wardrobe that stored a deal of them. But I held myself back.
However, I learnt that day that my appearance bothered me far more than it did her. And maybe this happens, almost always. We are often consumed by our own perception of how we suppose others think of us. While, in reality, they think nothing at all!
This article is a part of #Blogchatter’s AtoZChallenge2019. The other posts in this series maybe read here.