This Appearance

Words: 1960

She didn't know how pretty she really was.

Her elder sister was absolutely gorgeous, and her younger sisters were twins -- cute and attractive. Sandwiched between them and being merely 'very pretty', she didn't get much attention, and certainly no acknowledgment of her own looks.

So when the students in art-class took it in turns to pose for the class for each new aspect taught, she never volunteered. It went unnoticed because there were others willing to pose. They posed in the traditional costumes of the various regions of the country. They posed in the attire worn at the festivals of different religions. They posed against different backgrounds and in different seasons.

Till there was only the final painting of the year left, and only one student who hadn't yet posed.

"We'll do this one without a model," Miss Tracey said. "There's nobody left to pose anyway, and it would be too much to ask of anyone."

There was silence for fifteen seconds.

Then, a voice spoke.

"Actually, one student hasn't posed."

It was a male voice, and Kalindi blushed upon hearing it. So he had noticed! Manish was the only one who had noticed that she hadn't yet posed.

Miss Tracey was glancing down the list of students. She stopped abruptly, and then looked up, her eyes seeking Kalindi. Their eyes met. They held each others' gaze for what seemed like forever.

"You'll ... you'll ... " Miss Tracey gasped.

Manish had noticed. Manish had spoken up.

"Yes, Miss Tracey, I will."

Things became a little more formal after that. Since everyone in the class was eighteen years old or older, parental consent wasn't needed, but there was a document that she had to co-sign with the school counselor and the principal.

"You're sure?" Miss Tracey asked, one final time.

"Yes," Kalindi replied.

They were alone in the classroom ... she had come in early to prepare. It was time for the others to enter. Miss Tracey had done her make up herself, there being rather more make up to do than for a usual session.

The others entered in ones and twos and went solemnly to their places. When everyone was assembled, Kalindi climbed on to the platform and dropped her robe.

There was a collective gasp from the class.

Kalindi looked around for Manish. He was gazing at her, dumbstruck. She looked at him for several seconds, then looked at each of her classmates in turn. Finally, her gaze fell on Miss Tracey. Miss Tracey was smiling. Then she spoke.

"Kalindi, you are the most perfect nude I have ever seen, in all my years as an artist."

They went through the same preliminaries as they had before -- setting up lights, deciding on the pose. Kalindi's heart thudded as Manish brought his easel close to her, and at the angle at which he wanted to paint her.

"There," Miss Tracey said, as she placed Kalindi's left plait across her left breast, "we're all set now."

She felt their gaze on her. The focused, yet oddly disconnected gaze of the artist thinking not of the subject but of what was happening on the canvas. The technical and the sublime, in balance. The exact colour, the total play of light and dark. It had to be observed carefully to be rendered correctly, but it had to be observed only for that purpose. Kalindi's senses heightened, reached a peak, and then she found herself going into a sort of dream-like state in which it didn't matter that she had bared herself to various pairs of eyes, which were now looking at various parts of her anatomy.

The dream-like state persisted for the four subsequent nude sittings she had to do. After that, the class were to put in the finishing touches either from memory or from photographs (taken on Miss Tracey's mobile phone and nowhere else).

When she appeared in class with the others, Miss Tracey smiled. "Well, I suppose you'll be a guest today, Kalindi, with no painting to do yourself."

"And all my clothes on," she giggled.

She walked among her classmates. Her body tingled as it saw itself mirrored over and over again, and she realised she could gaze at herself for a long time and feel good about it.

"I'm beautiful," she thought with a shock, as she stared at Manish's depiction of her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, leaning close.

She smiled at him.

It was last time she smiled at him for many weeks thereafter.

*********

"But -- why not?" he asked, putting the newspaper clipping back into his pocket.

"It's too far."

"Last time you didn't because you said it's too close to your home."

"Now I'm not because it's too far."

"Listen, you know you're perfect for this. It's a great designer and people fall all over themselves to model for her. You told me yourself you like her style."

"I do like her style. She has this touch with clothes that is almost divine. Makes the body like a temple."

"And now you can model her clothes. This is such an opportunity." He pulled the newspaper clipping back out and unfolded it. "See, she hasn't auditioned for models for the last three years. You don't know when there'll be another chance like this."

"Leave me alone, Manish."

"What's the matter, Kalindi?"

She turned away. "Nothing. Just leave me alone."

"Tell me."

She faced him almost defiantly. "All right. I don't think I'm good enough. I'm not as pretty as the others."

"Not pretty? Kalindi, forget about me or about every student in our class, even Miss Tracey said you're perfect."

"She said that when I was -- was -- when I -- didn't have anything on."

"Which is even better. You're absolutely perfect, no need to cover anything."

"I wouldn't look pretty with those clothes on."

"Do you really think that?" He pointed at the paper. "I've filled out the physical description section here and -- let me read -- Hair: Long, black, thick. Usually in plaits. Facial features: High forehead, shapely nose, thick pink lips. Complexion: Sienna. Height: 5 feet. Weight: I don't know the exact weight, you'll have to fill it out ..."

"The number doesn't matter. I'm too thin. See, that description just proves it. I'm not pretty enough."

"But -- but -- are you joking?"

"Yes," she flared up. "Yes, Manish, I'm joking about something as important as how I look, which is obviously not important to you because you think it's only about numbers and you think I can joke about it."

She flounced off with Manish staring after her.

Over the weeks, he tried often and met with myriad excuses. Her family was conservative. She wasn't tall enough. Other people had modern haircuts, not old-fashioned plaits. And finally ...

"Not confident? What do you mean you are not confident?"

"All those people will be looking at me with lights on me."

"Kalindi, you have done that naked. Had lights on you and people looking at you. You have done it five times, for an hour at a time. This'll be with clothes on, for a minute or two on the ramp."

Her body tingled as he spoke. He caught a brief glimpse of her red cheeks. Then, she turned away. He barely heard her whispered response.

"Nobody else mattered then," she muttered.

"What?"

Again, she raised her voice, but this time, it wasn't in anger.

"It didn't matter about the other people in the room, Manish. Only you mattered. You spoke up that I hadn't posed yet. I was naked for you. Your gaze was the one that set my breasts on fire, that ... that ..."

She couldn't continue. It's impossible to talk when you're being kissed deeply for the first time ever.

*********

Maybe her family would disown her if they knew. She didn't even tell her mother or sisters that she had lost her virginity before marriage. It would be a scandal to top all scandals in the community. She hadn't even told her family about posing. She was sure her parents would rush into the principal's office and create a scene about that. Her sisters would giggle and tell all their friends, and keep teasing her. None of them must find out.

She still lived with her parents, sharing a room with her elder sister. The twins shared another room. No space for any of them to have boyfriends. She wondered vaguely whether her parents made love still, and how they found the privacy to do so. She had read about other countries, watched TV shows. Everyone lived independently there. They could bring whoever they wanted home and prance around without any clothes on in the living room. She came close to envying them.

Her trysts with Manish were surreptitious, at a friend's studio apartment or on weekend getaways with a group of artists for camouflage.

What surprised her most was that she wasn't as scared or guilt-ridden as she felt she ought to be. Somehow, it was natural to her to melt in Manish's arms. There wasn't anything wrong about it, nothing blameworthy.

She was also beginning to get used to his insistence that she model for famous designers. She took it as a challenge to think up bigger and better arguments against it.

The simple fact was -- she didn't believe herself pretty enough.

Nothing Manish said or did could convince her that she was far more beautiful than the young women she admired.

*********

"It's so weird," she said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Very weird. But you know how eccentric Sunita and Anand are."

She laughed. She took the mauve wedding invitation, adorned with golden ribbons and read the instructions in small print.

"I can't believe I'm reading the fine print on a friend's wedding invite, but anyway ... we go in through the back door, one at a time ..."

"Announce our name, walk to the front of the stage and say 'congratulations'!" he completed. "Easy enough, actually."

"Is my saree* okay?"

He smiled. "Yellow suits you. Bright and happy. And I love the marigolds in your hair. And I love how you've taught yourself to walk so daintily in high heels!"

She giggled. "You forgot the matching handbag and the bracelet and the necklace."

"All fine. And considering I did your make up, that is perfect."

They drove in a companionable silence to the wedding hall.

"Funny, not very decorated," she mused.

"You know they're eccentric. Maybe decorations weren't in the fine print. There's the back door. You first."

She turned the handle and walked in. Blinking in the bright lights, she stammered out her name. Then, she made her way to the front of the stage and said, "Congratulations!"

Flashbulbs popped.

There was a smattering of applause.

Confused, she looked around her. Where was the bridal couple? Where were the other guests? Who were these people in jeans and T-shirts at a wedding?

"Excellent, Miss Kalindi," a voice said. "Full marks for the first audition. You carry the saree so gracefully. Could you just toss your plaits, like that? ... My goodness, that's superb. I don't think we need another audition for you, actually. Is it okay if we send you your contract by email? Would you be able to do live shows and TV commercials?"

*********

"It's not fair," he grumbled.

"You're the one who tricked me into auditioning. You do the crime, you do the time."

"Not fair. You're either too busy or too tired or preoccupied with which cut and which colour. Do you know how long it has been since we've had a meal together, let alone made love?"

"Manish - - remember that art class?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"I was posing only for you. The room was packed but it was all for you. This is all for you, too. Just you."

"Then prove it."

She did.

********* ********* *********

*Saree
A garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia.

Note: Cover Image "Embracing Chaos"
by my friend Nisha Murali, for this story.

"What A Character - May 2021 Winners!" 
First Place - "This Appearance"

Character Prompt for May 2021: ▼

Write a story about a character with a ton of potential in a certain regard,
but who can't seem to get out of their own way and keep things together.