Beautiful Girl

Why do they become beauty queens, I wonder, as I watch her, tired, trying to catch up on a quick nap in a room full of a dozen people. The simplest answer would be the glamour, fame and money that follow especially when you inevitably land Bollywood. But hey, what about the gruelling life that comes attached?
Standard beauty queen shift post contest-win includes: Shoots, shoots and more shoots, with appearances at events thrown in. You are under contract with the company that organised the contest, so you can’t even squeak when called to work — whether it’s your mother’s birthday or an upset stomach or lack of sleep.
For that extra cherry on top, the shoots are back to back, usually from the crack of dawn till late evening. She needs to look good (and feel good, coz no matter how much make-up you have on, if you’re feeling like shit, it shows). One shoot is followed by the other, as the company has many magazines and papers where they would like your mug plastered, now that they have you under their thumb for a year.
But she can’t complain. After all, she volunteered for this. She mentioned in her first interview after being ‘crowned’ how it was always her dream to win, how she would pirouette in front of the mirror for hours as a nine-year-old, and so on…
At the hotel where she is shooting, the PR girl comes up to congratulate with a beautiful bouquet and asks how she is doing. Great! On top of the world! She replies with that eye-sparkling smile which by now comes to her with unpractised ease. Only it feels far from great. “All I want right now is home food and my own bed,” she whispers to the fellow winner, who’s having her hair murdered for the fantasy shot next.
Home, the place she left three years back for ‘further studies’ that turned into modelling stints, suddenly seems very far away. She thinks of her kid sister, screaming with excitement into the phone, after she won the contest. The wardrobe they shared back at home would total what she was going to wear for this one single shot — Gown: Rs 40,000 plus, shoes: Rs 2,500 plus, bag: Rs 5,000.
She thinks of getting her sister down to shop with the complimentary gift vouchers from the hi-fashion stores, given to her after the win. But where’s the time? Her sister would have to bunk college and she would have no time, shuttling between fittings with designers, shoots and preparations for the international contest less than a month away. But she is missing home, more than she ever did in the last three years.
How would it feel to run away from all this? To chuck her no-carbs diet and gorge on some rice and prawns? How would it feel to not wear make-up for a day, sit with oil in her hair and not smile? How would it feel to wake up late and not have bronzers and creams slathered all over her five times a day? How would it feel not to act like the diva she is not all the while? She is surprised by her state of confusion. Wasn’t this what she had worked towards? How could she let a slight hectic schedule upset all that?
It’s time to wake up. There’s a reporter from one of the papers. Time to remember her lines and that sparkling smile.