Photo via Canva, edited by author
Pyaara was enjoying her morning tea when the chubby fingers of her younger self tickled her insides. She reached into her belly button and coaxed out the hungry child. She offered her biscuits. Pyaara touched the eight-year-old’s smooth face while relaxing her own wrinkled brow.
“Eat. No one will comment on your weight.”
Sharp cramps heralded the arrival of her adolescent self. Like a cantankerous kidney stone, the surly teen slipped out onto Pyaara’s floor. She sported acne and a wispy mustache. She kept herself small in oversized sweatshirts, hiding the added curves of puberty. Pyaara lifted her chin, stared deep into dark brown eyes, and felt her own soften.
“Love yourself. You’re built like the goddess Parvati, not some Hellenistic Aphrodite.”
A fluttering within her chest led to coughing up her middle-aged self. The woman before her wore a sundress. Her hair was dyed black and nails brightly colored. She touched Pyaara’s white hair, clicking her tongue.
“You don’t have to look young to be loved,” said Pyaara, drawing her into her arms.
Pyaara watched her past selves share stories with full-bodied laughter.
As night drew to a close, they readied Pyaara for bed. She resisted undressing until reassured by their radiant smiles. They washed sagging breasts, rubbed swollen joints, and traced the tapestry of pregnancy stretch marks and surgical scars. With this devotion, Pyaara saw her beauty reflected in their eyes.
“We survive because you love us as we are,” they whispered as they entered her welcoming heart.
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