That silent beauty.

 The story that follows is a Guestpost I did for Meera's blog . [Thank you so much,darling. It as a pleasure doing this for your blog!] So I thought I'll put it up on my blog too,once she was done publishing it, so you guys could have a look and tell me how you like this piece of fiction!
Awaiting your feedback,
Enjoy! :)

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That Silent beauty.

 Our place to hangout was Jama Masjid. We both used to be in school, I- a year older to her. We were never really the girlfriend/boyfriend material. We were too busy with enjoying what we were as individuals, yet- together. We were too busy looking around at what the world has to offer and grabbing in everything with a little bit of this and a little bit of that falling out from the seams of our fingers. Yet we managed to grasp most of it, with beads of sweat on our foreheads but a wide grin of contentment on our faces.
She was the kind who'd punch you right on the face- "no nonsense." was her motto. Dressing up was something she didn't be live in, "why the f***? so that, that perv there smoking up can have a Joly time looking at my legs?" -was what she said jokingly. But I knew she just didn't care a damn enough to bother. Though her eyes were always boarded carelessly with kohl, yet they looked so perfect that even I used to get overwhelmed by that quiet beauty hidden behind the shades and tee shirts.
I- on the other hand was someone who'd prefer a plain white roll-up shirt to a backstreet boys tee shirt. A simple Bermuda underneath instead of baggy cargos.

And yes, we both had a camera. For sure.
Money was never an issue for us- cause we never had any! It used to take us about 30 rupees to get to old Delhi by bus, and about 15 rupees to get to CP. That's all we needed. We weren't hungry people. Our parents were bloody well off, but we sort of liked it that way. You know? Scrape it up, scrap by scrap.
It taught us something, in some way. And more than anything- it was fun to be beggars and teenagers at the same time. Yes, you can call us mad.
But at the end of the day, we both went home smelling the high of heaven..

It was one of those days of summer. She and I were clicking around the shops of Jama Masjid, when we both hit a shop with burkhas and cheap accessories. She usually never got very excited at the sight of these, however an odd day out that day- she did.
"Dude I've never tried a burkha.. I wonder if----" ; and she walked off saying something only she could hear leaving me behind,smiling- as always.
She hopped to the shop, and started asking the guy to show her colorful burkhas, and the jeweled ones. While she tried one out, speaking to this other lady standing next to her- all excited, I realized something. When I looked at her, wearing that burkha, I realized something more.

She was not a girl anymore, she was a woman. That chubby smile on her face wasn't just baby fat-as what I called it, it was a smile of a maturing flower. I could see the difference, that I didn't notice for so long as I was too convinced she was going to be 17 forever.
What I realized more was, the reason. The reason she always joked about.
She didn't need to dress up to look pretty. It was moments like these which brought out that silent beauty that giggles inside every girl's heart, knowing that it'll leave everyone staring once it tip toes out.

It left me staring, for sure.