In this age of perfection, where technology makes everything look so incredibly perfect, I miss the imperfections of a simple human life. We have somewhere stopped seeing beauty in things that are natural, verisimilar, lifelike and foible.
With 2% battery and 100% anxiety, they are exhausted. The compulsion to appear good in all walks of life is throttling the verve and veracity of being real. I grew up at a time when my mother used to put a black dot on my face to ward off the evil eye. The trend now is to display, with a generous dash of filters, no matter how affected and stagy it may look. Amid the craze for going under the knife to have chiseled noses, curated hair and cosmetic fillers, natural beauty seems to have been sent on a long walk. For those of us who bask in the glory of natural endowments, it gets tough to match our stride with those who do not. Nature never meant us to be perfect, identical or superficially polished at the edges. When I soak in the gorgeousness of undulating mountains, meandering rivers, crooked trees and uneven waves blending into a quiet seemliness, I see many missing the moment and angling for pictures. When the riverbank offered free therapy, they were negotiating with their power banks.
