Priyadarshini Parlour: Outshine Others! No. Inner Beauty Explored. No. Your Secret Recipe. No. Damn. I cannot even think of a tagline. How will I ever manage the place? Outshine! Yes. Just that. Let me see how it looks. Priyadarshini then cut swift lines across each of the attempted taglines and neatly wrote 'Priyadarshini Parlour: Outshine!', a genuine look of victorious satisfaction written all over her beautiful face.
Priyadarshini Mathur was born in a middle-class family in Meerut, to a home-maker of a mother and a banker of a father. Bankers then did not make the same money as bankers now do. Nor did they have fancy adjectives assigned -- like 'Retail', or 'Investment', or 'Specialised' before Banking. The salary of a nationalised bank officer was enough for the monthly groceries, child's education and occasional movie-show. Shopping was a luxury held in behest ahead of festivals, twice a year. It sufficed for a clever life-savings, but never for an annual holiday. Eating out in newly opened restaurants was a crime even to be discussed. From here grew Priyadarshini, named duly because of the extraordinary features she was born with. Being too beautiful in such a place was a curse. She attracted attention and lucrative marriage proposals which could be stalled only by placing the pursuit of higher education.
All she ever wanted to do, however, was open a beauty-parlour and run it with the high-handedness of an underground mafia boss, like they showed in movies. Often, over studying about the Indus Valley civilization, she catered an idea of what new hairstyle she would confide Madhuri Dixit to flaunt. Oh yes, in her fair flying, she was always amongst the film industry celebrities. Or while she struggled in completing a complex circle sum in Geometry, she would make it the face of Manisha Koirala, and imagine a conversation in which Manisha would ask her to assess her hair quality and look, and consult for a new one. Subjects changed dramatically fast. She was now refashioning Deepika Padukone over Hegel and Kant.
Sadly, Hegel and Kant of pages helped her earn scholarships and stipends contrary to the Kapoors and Khans of the industry who could not win her an appointment. Priyadarshini was not the one to lose hope. Her ambition was fixed, though disoriented geographically. New Delhi. That was where she had set her eyes on. Not Mumbai, but New Delhi. Ideally, it was a mere bus ride away from where she hailed, but the distance was a whirled storm she needed to brave. She knew she could not digress, nor afford to, tell her parents about her original plans.
At age thirty two, achingly beautiful and even more achingly restive about unfulfilled desires, she allowed her penchant for scissors, style and the cash-box to overshadow the promise of a lasting relationship. New Delhi, I will own you. These were the candy thoughts who comforted her during her break-up and her confrontation with aging parents. Things ought to change, New Delhi.
'Priyadarshini Parlour: Outshine!', she finally relied upon. The name that would take up her life's savings. Each time her uncle gave her money for Holi, or the Diwalis that went un-burst, she carefully fed her money-sack, a rundown pillow-cover sitting quiet amidst her many kurtis and salwars. It would make the required noise only when hand-held. It jingled in pleasure. The only other time she had heard it was when she had to withdraw money from her precious fund to undertake that priceless course in hair-dressing. Discreetly, obviously.
She was now in Itanagar, one of the more peopled places of Arunachal Pradesh. Far, far away from Meerut, and New Delhi, to the extreme North-East of India, it opened up to her the possibility of fencing the chaotic rhythms going on in her mind. As she took up a job of teaching in one of the newer universities, armed with her PhD, she thickened her pillow-case further and took it to the banks. The location was selected, the hair-cutters were hand picked and she scheduled the price and consultation first hand. Everything is in place. I am still the mafia boss and my success will let me open branches all over India. New Delhi, wait for me.
One week after the sublime success of 'Priyadarshini Parlour', she now stands by her window, content, and coffee in hand, undecided over what to do with the letter on the sill. It was stamped 'Santa Cruz (E), Mumbai.' It was just like yesteryears. The crow cawed endlessly, waiting for a crumb of bread, and it felt like the clouds had draped it in its white majesty. Is it Kareina Kapoor, now Khan? Or, Anushka Sharma? No, Deepika must have heard of it from Michelle Gurung, the Arunachali superstar! What if it were Madhuri? Asking for me to help her comeback? With a make-over?
The small-town innocence and faith made Priyadarshini Mathur keep the envelop unopened. Her accompaniment to the white crow's melody. Each lonely morning, her New Delhi dreams weighed more than the cash rich Itanagar fulfillment. There was no competition here, she reigned. Alone. The Queen of Consultation, the Queen with the Scissors.
***
Little did she know what fell under Santa Cruz (E) PO, Mumbai. Mumbai University had invited her for its fest to speak in the 'Unschooled, Unhelped Entrepreneurs Forum.' No, that was not important. Sushmita Sen was the Chief Guest.
It is true they say, when you can hear the crow sing a melody, life wears a white death blanket. The invite date is over. Priyadarshini continues to imagine Madhuri's makeover. In a sad happiness.
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