Beauty, the presence of which brings delight to the observer’s eyes. Beauty, the reason behind thousands of smiles. Beauty, an inspirer of great poets, writers and painters, is also said to be very subjective. Some would argue that it lies only in the eyes of the observer and some would add on to that by saying that in reality it does not exist at all.
Whether beauty lies only in the eyes of the observer or whether beauty is existent or not are very complex questions. Nevertheless, it is an established fact that beauty is a very subjective phenomenon and what might be beautiful for one person, might be very ordinary to another. Thus, if it is so hard to conclude if something is beautiful or not, how can one write about or define real beauty?
Right from the cradle, to the grave. From the bright red toy one had during infancy to the smile on one’s grandchildren’s faces, there are a lot of things, a man finds beautiful. For me, my mother’s bangles which made a tinkling sound, my father’s bright blue t-shirt and my bright red tricycle were the most appealing things I came across as a little kid. In late teens, there is always a girl in your class who is the most beautiful creature for you and till then only toys are the most beautiful things you have around you.
The look on your parents face, the day you graduate is beautiful. The feeling you get when you hold your crush’s hand for the first time is also beautiful. To love and to be loved in return, is beautiful. A day comes when you feel that you have accomplished something, you have a look in the mirror and feel beautiful. When you buy your first car, its shiny metal body seems beautiful.
You hold your baby for the first time and that baby grows up in front of your eyes, its beautiful. The look on your child’s face when you gift him a toy, and the look on his face again when he, himself becomes a parent one day, everything is beautiful.
There is a day when you are an old man and you realise that you have discharged all your duties well and have nothing significant to do, an emptiness begins to surround you when suddenly your little grandchild comes looking for you, catches hold of your finger and a fresh chapter opens in your life, that is beautiful.
And then, one fateful day, your entire life flashes in front of your eyes, just before you die and every beautiful thing that you have always commemorated, flows into your mind just like the sands of time and that day you realise what a ‘real beauty’ is.
Maybe the real beauty lies in this catch 22 situation which is nothing but a cycle, a never-ending cycle of life and that every beautiful moment in that cycle is like drinking from the “endless fountain of immortal drink” (Keats). It does take a life time to understand the true meaning of real beauty.
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