Plump, tall and wheatish in color, Sweety was tired. Tired of living her 23rd year of her life, single and stressed. Monotony had taken a toll on her. Happy lives of her friends had already haunted her. Peer Pressure office pressure and now, even domestic pressure.

Torn apart between family, friends and her nagging boss, Sweety wished her life would turn better. She did it all to add spice: Befriended people at Salsa class, tried dating some random people on shaadi.com and even bitched about people. But it exhausted her.

Finally, she gave in to work at a local charity organization but her heart was not there. How would she ever justify the yearn to gain satisfaction. After a couple of weeks, Sweety stopped working there too.

It was a beautiful morning when she discovered an album. Lying under her bed, the album had been covered with cobwebs.
She reached out for it. Coughing, she dusted it and opened the album. A picture of her and her father. Her father lifting her high in the air. Sweety looked so happy in the picture. Carefree and energetic.

As she flipped through the albums, Sweety’s smile had worn out but in the pictures with her father and mother, she seemed extremely happy.
What had happened now she wondered? She remembered reading somewhere that once in a while you must stare into the mirror for atleast 3-5 minutes.

When she read it then, she laughed at it but it lingered in mind. Sweety wore her best dress. Pinned her hair up, wore kajal and looked into the mirror.
She had put on some weight, she stared intently into the mirror. Her hair had grown thinner. She had thick hair as a kid. Her skin had tanned too.

She sulked. Even in her best dress, she was not feeling good.
“What do I do” she wondered

“Life was never so boring.” She thought What had happened she tried to recall.
She tried reminiscing the best days of her life – Her last birthday? When everyone came home and surprised her. But that happens just once a year. Nothing refreshingly new.

Her first date? She was happy but her relation had turned into a bore. Was it because of her poor knowledge of romantic lines and creativity that her boyfriend had broke up with her? She was kiddish and immature and would never understand what he spoke too.

Do I get myself romantically educated? But relations were more than those sweet nothings she felt.
Her friends had often made fun of her. She remembered her best friend, Neelu teasing her “You only read romantic novels. Learnt nothing” and chuckled. She chuckled in admittance then too but flushed with embarrassment from within.
“Do I hit the gym and become a supermodel” she thought? But what use was giving up on sumptuous things to gain nothingness.

Brushing her thoughts aside, she finally grabbed a book on the shelf which laid there waiting since ages. She slipped into her pyjama* and an old kurta**, brushed all her thoughts aside and was lost in a reverie…

Pyjama — an Indian wear (similar to a pant)
Kurta — An Indian wear (similar to a long shirt)