Where credit is due: I thank Dove and Yahoo for accepting my entry as an application to the contest. All readers please visit Yahoo! Real Beauty and join the conversation.
On an unusually hot summer day in the Metropolis, a young boy named Rich discovered the meaning of real beauty. Fully aware of this discovery, another young boy in the nearby village, who was ironically named Poor, discovered that the meaning of Real beauty made no difference to him if it didn’t prevent him from going hungry at night.
Popular opinion would have you believe almost anything; almost!
“Beauty is a sense of harmony. Whether it’s an image, a human face, a body, or a sunset, take the object which you call beautiful, as a unit [and ask yourself]: what parts is it made up of, what are its constituent elements, and are they all harmonious? If they are, the result is beautiful. If there are contradictions and clashes, the result is marred or positively ugly.”
Ayn Rand said that. Reasonable, I suppose but enough?
Growing up, I had the privilege of knowing my Aunt and not just because she was family but I suppose by design, the man upstairs wanted me to know her. He also wanted me to observe her day after day as she tried to look out at the world from within the clenches of her wheelchair. She was only fourteen when a local doctor misdiagnosed a minor wound and injected her with bad medicine. Little did she know that she would have to pay the price for his sin and that too for the rest of her natural life? Real beauty is watching her defeat pain over and over again, everyday.
Writing this is proving to be harder than I anticipated, I might as well quit while I’m ahead.
Real Beauty <sigh>
Real beauty is waking up every morning knowing that what you do today will ultimately determine what makes tomorrow or that it may not.
Real beauty is modern art; real beauty is not modern art.
Real beauty is what drives a boy in love to go after a girl who’s not into him.
Real beauty is the portrait of an old lady; real beauty is the face of a newborn baby.
Real beauty is the Taj Mahal, real beauty was Mahatma Gandhi, and real beauty could have been India-Pakistan un-partitioned.
Truth, I suppose is real and beautiful – much like the soul or existence itself.
In retrospect, I doubt if real beauty can ever fall within the reach of reason and logic or be governed simply by the vastly overrated doctrine of popular opinion – if anything, we owe ourselves at least one tidy explanation for why one Helen Keller is any less of a beauty than one Helen of Troy, or why the Kohinoor diamond deserves any more appreciation than a truly honest man or if God is any more beautiful than the Devil.
Consider this question, why amidst a never-ending universe of stars and planets is a place called earth, where and only where, there is evidence of life, existence of civilization and a presence of humanity?
That, my dear readers, is real beauty!