Privilege is to have a BOTOX!!

The world is enamored by her; she leaves your head tilted in desirability to further reckon the impressibility of her devoured beauty. The name itself has a privilege in its paramouncy, vindictive to its own perpetual charm albeit applaudable in the wild impasto of plasticity layered over natural physiognomy.

‘Hail Goddess’—a frequent palaver of ‘Aishwarya Rai’ on social media is obtrusive; the fact of the matter that she is no deity, and the forged plastered smile has been a vile of agony for me. She has made the country proud—‘agreed’ but why the BOTOX? It’s crude to enter into someone’s privacy some would say, where is the need?—let alone Botox, a Breast Implant would hardly effect our culture’s assessment of beauty. But, at last, is it really necessary?

Why so much drama & dhol to create a fail-safe clone?

No hangdog to my defense inspite of the grotesque palaver doing the round; the uplifted cheeks and the wrinkle-free face speaks of the chimerical. Rai’s privilege today takes an unceremonious walk to be serrated by the bedraggled Botox. At 50, don’t you do require some block& tackle to dawdle on the ramp? How would you peddle on by just being a bone shaker? ‘Cannes’ and ‘Paris Fashion Week’ would hardly entertain burdock of haggard skin; Rai is no laggard and is leery to the shudder of age hysteria. I pity her sometimes, with the success she has achieved, to be then battered by the Botox bedlam; ‘budhi’, ‘aged like Botox’, ‘plastic’ and some comparing her to the femme fettle ‘Rakhi Sawant’. 

Why is Botox a cause celebre for the privileged especially the celebrities? 

Either its intrusion in the maverick muscles levels up as a fancy for the Nouveau Rich, leaving the middle class only to pry and prod. Or, the cultural edify to let the old wine taste better losing its tannins overtime. No matter the cause, an unusual banter ensues and the chopstick frill never ends!

Why is there a need for BOTOX?

The bedevilment to remain in one’s youth, I guess! Believe me, it is an incongruity leveraged in the phantasmagoria of intrepid duplicity. The ‘Wrinkle Warfare’ is a pulmonary distress for the ‘real’ to breathe the artificial evolvement killing the impressionable experiences of life. It’s a pledge to sustain what erodes us; the plausible mirroring of the true-self is now frequently subjected to a violation of the aging process. The appreciation of the wise wrinkles is turned into a swelled aggrandizement of ‘egos’.

I also feel why a Botox when the brain is still in use? Appearances will eventually let you down one day; the frazzled skin in flounce tempting to hide in self-deprecating humor. What brings the skin alive? Not the Botulinum toxin injection—a poisoned chalice! It’s the mind after all—everlasting to stamp every memory lived, and wrinkles placing an authority over the experiences led by. Clearing them off through a po-faced Botox is an attempt to re-create experiences already lived. It’s not bad to feel and live young but the felicitation of youth through artificial means eradicates the power to live in the present. Every storm has certain turbulence, but with it comes to us a resilience to be ready for another; cutting off the resonation takes us back to where our fear incubateslethargy to understand the life’s greater efforts.

Keeping Rai and many like her on the side, there are some who live in their unprivileged nest sans Botox carrying humanitarian trails on their face. Why don’t they need a Botox? Presumably, they rely on their experimental pursuits heavily guarded in the dewlap skin and in an uncanny acceptance; the shantung of moles and wrinkles know not the pirouette of self-bereavement, instead to believe that defying age loses the momentum to find a cause.

The Iranian activist, Narges Mohammadi, has been fighting for a cause of uplifting women out of oppression and regressive desecration. At the age of 51, she is the second Iranian woman to win the 2023 Nobel Peace Prize. She has been sentenced to 31 years of life in prison. Her mirror would be a reflection of idiosyncratic pursuance; the scrimmage of unsettling nerves on the face would revive her to add another musical note of a lash glorified as a success. Botox! Would it really bother her? So, who are these people carrying false blemishes under the real person they are?

They are the privileged, progressive in their mind yet capitulate to the hagridden self-performance. Botox is not a part of their story; but the end of it!!

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Lyric Serenity Norah Stevenson

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