I used to see her often. In the building foyer. In our get togethers. Always draped in sari.
A Bengali, gosh, I'm surrounded by them everywhere, with the sweetest 'mishti' smile, she carried herself with utter dignity.
A microbiologist and singer combined. Strange combination. Of charm, brain and talent. But just one flaw. Oh, dreadful flaw. She was almost bald. Maybe a thyroid problem gone overboard, or just hair thinning away till no more. I was shocked. She wasn't even self conscious.
She never had a wig, nor let the focus fall on her. She drew attention away from her baldness, to her nicer traits.
She wore the sweetest smile. Her strongest point. That's what did the trick.
So when I look at girls with implants, nose jobs, unnatural jaw lines...and at elderly moms trying to ape their young girls...in tights and heavy accessories...I often think of her.
The Mishti woman. Always at peace with herself. With dignified ease.
