Kahin Khud Ki Nazar Na Lagein
… Chashme Badoor. Rafi went thus, in this lovely song from the movie Sasuraal, featuring Rajendra Rafi Kumar and a South Indian actress. There have been several Hindi film songs which pay tribute to the beautiful women of the world. In fact, Rafi himself has sung several songs – Tere Husna Ki Kya Tareef Karoon, Aapke Haseen Rukh Pe, Laakhon Hain Nigahon Mein, Uff Yummmaaa, Chaudavin Ka Chaand Ho, Udhar Tum Haseen Ho, etc. And of course, one of my favourite Rafi songs – Choo Lene Do Nazook Honton Ko.
Anyway, the point is, beauty has always been an inspiration for Hindi films and drunk Urdu poets. One expects that. In fact, even as a behenji for life, I find myself being naturally drawn to good looking people. I will not lie. But, in what all aspects of life does the way you look matter? In marriages? Sure, it does. People want to ensure that the gene-pool is not messed with. I don’t like it, but I cannot change that. But, imagine your career becoming a victim of the way you look?
Let me clarify, I am not in the armed forces or a flight stewardess. I can imagine, being fat in those professions may not be good. I also don’t work as a lift-woman, where again being over-weight can prove to be a problem. I work in a telecom company. There is nothing fancy about my job. I don’t have to interact with customers, I don’t work in some swanky office in Gurgaon and I don’t stay up till late in office and order pizza on office expense.
My office is in an innocuous looking building in South Delhi, right next to a sanctuary. We do a lot of back-end processing work. I don’t call up people and put on a fake accent. I get in to office at 9:25 in the morning. A chartered bus drops me there. I sort my desk, fill my bottle of water and begin work by 9:30. I am shy and don’t have much to say to my colleagues. Plus, I don’t like them. So, I work till lunch. Eat lunch at my desk, out of the dabba that Ma gives me. After lunch, I feel sleepy and I waste time on the Internet. Around 5, my conscience wakes up and I work for another half an hour. At 5:30, I go to the ladies-room, comb my hair, re-apply my lip-stick and leave. If I miss the 5:45 chartered, I will need to take an auto, which will cost me eighty rupees. It is not much, but is a waste.
I am good at my work. My very seedy boss likes me and things are peaceful. Except that, the money is not enough. This year, the company decided that increments were not possible. I am not greedy, but I would like a thousand rupees more each month. At least, I will be able to get a global hair colouring done and cover the greys on my head. I have applied to many places and the only two skills that everyone seeks are – communication skills and a pleasing personality. I lose out on both counts. My Hindi is fine. In fact, it is very good. Even though, I am from UP, my Hindi is not like the villains in cinema. It is fine. My English is very average. Though, I speak and write better English than everyone else in my family, it is still average. Some years ago, in DU, a girl called me a Vernie. I was hurt then, but she is right.
The accent is still overlooked. The fat is hard to. Any personality that I have, is hidden behind layers of fat. And no, I am not the I-am-actually-thin-but-need-to-complain-about-my-fat person. I am five feet and one inch. And I weigh eighty-one kilos. I have moved from pleasantly plump to obese over a period of three years. It is apparently due to the levels of thyroxine in my body and several hormones. However, you can’t put any of that on your CV.
How do I know that prospective employers evaluate me on the way I look? I am not a mind-reader. They actually tell me. This is Delhi, being uncouth is our birth-right. Arrey behenji, thoda weight kam kijiye, one of them told me. We have uniforms in our office, we don’t have any of your size, another told me. Hum development sector mein hain, bahut saare foreigners aatein hain, jo bandiyaan thode theekh-thaakh lagein, wohi sahi lagte hain, said someone who works in an organisation that is working in the area of gender inequality. If I wasn’t as upset, the irony of the situation would have been amusing.
And it is not like I have chosen to be fat or anything. I have tried to lose weight. But, it is stubborn and refuses to leave me. A lot of people, which includes, pesky neighbours, strange relatives and random people on the road tell me, kuch to kijiye. Kya kahoon unko?
I need to find other ways to make that thousand rupees. Tuition classes, perhaps? I have been taught by several fat teachers.
On a more cheerful note, here is Rafi to our rescue yet again.
