Beauty

There are few men I have come across in the recent past whom I can describe with just one word- beautiful. One such person works in my office. His fair and flawless skin would shine under his dark clothes like a moon shining under dark clouds. He walks with his hair flowing on his forehead and shoulders while his arms sway with a grace. A charming face he has which turns pink to red when he blushes. He has a low and soft voice with a clean accent. His dressing sense would be awesome though he wears only a few selected set of clothes everyday. Style is his statement. I'm not sure if it is real or just the stitching, but he always wears those perfect fitting clothes that shows all the appropriate curves at the right places- front and back. They would shout aloud crying attention and its hard even for a saint to not embrace them. His eyes are sharp and dark, but I never had a chance to look into them straight. Am sure I will be cursed crazy if I did. 

There are so many of these beautiful beings around and the words gorgeous, pretty, handsome, hot, charming, beautiful and many more are defined by them. But every time I see these men, I always have a deep sense of feeling which is nowhere even near attraction. I don't know if its hatred, but let me consider myself good and subtly call it jealousy or envy. The same time when I wonder how beautiful they are, I also question what is the use of them being so beautiful when there is no exact purpose of their beauty. These guys are anyways married to a girl who would have lived even if they are bit less beautiful. Their beauty to perfection is wasted. It would make me angry, sad and fills me with longing and want. The want to be beautiful. I have always thought God is so unfair. He could have made me just a bit beautiful or  given me at least a little bit of their wasted beauty. It could have made me proud being beautiful and may be could have secured me a place in lovable hearts.

I do realize how stupid my want is. I don't have to be beautiful for my mirror or just for anyone's eyes. Rightly said, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Though I might not look like these beautiful men, even through my own eyes, I know I'm already gifted with a beauty that is eternal unlike theirs. When I'm blessed with a beautiful heart that grows better with age and time holding grace, poise, charm and love, what more can I ask? Shouldn't I be proud of that. I should feel sorry for longing to be like someone else and not respecting my inner self. 

Though this realization has flashed a million times, my feeling of hatred for beauty is still persistent. May be one day when I no longer use a mirror, I might shed this longing... May be.