Imperfections [A Very Short Story]

Posted: August 8, 2016

Striving for perfection in life, in relationships can feel false and becomes stifling. Imperfections make us human.

It was a beautiful day, she sat in the porch of their farmhouse with her laptop. Oh! Everyone says that her life was a dream. A fairy tale woven in velvet.

It has been three years since she married Nikhil – the man everyone loved. The perfect man, who always did everything right.

They looked so good together. She always wore those traditional Sabyasachi sarees. The photographs carefully pasted on Facebook and Instagram. They had had this beautiful pre-wedding  photoshoot, where Nikhil was kissing her forehead. That was a perfect shot, taken by Sanjeev Shetty, Delhi’s perfect wedding photographer.

Nikhil always left for work at 9 am. Always. He kissed her forehead just like in that picture, each day before he went to work. It was as if the photograph was replayed, perfectly, everyday.

Now, she sat at the perfect spot of the house, with the perfect gadget to write her perfect story. She had a deadline to deliver her perfect story, to her loyal readers.

She could not write.

The maid got her a bowl of fruits in a beautiful ceramic pot. She perfectly placed it on the side table.

It made her nauseous. All this perfection.

She stood up, went to her room, opened an old suitcase. It had her name written on it carefully. It was the bag she carried had from home, when she first came to Delhi. She opened it, found an old pair of jeans and a tee shirt – those that she picked from Sarojni Market with no labels.

She stripped off all she was wearing, wore the torn pair of clothes, sat down on the floor and wrote like a mad woman in love.

Imperfections felt okay.

She breathed easy for the first time.

Image source: pixabay

Proud Indian. Senior Writer at Women's Web. Columnist. Book Reviewer. Street Theatre - Aatish. Dreamer.

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  1. loved it

  2. This is a really short, really fabulous story! Big wheels keep on turning…

  3. Paromita, it’s beautiful and touches the soul…how a tale of shedding labels. How you weaved her state of being and jeans she bought!

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