I honestly believed I was the happening kind of gal till something transpired last week. Something that left me reeling in a late-20s crisis.

Last week reality sneaked up, kicked me in the guts and made it abundantly clear I wasn't really hip at all. I had merely been thinking so.

Yes, my Ego has taken a beating. A very good beating.

Up till then, I used to think I was still a pretty hip chick. Yes, there were the occasional days I found myself weaving through traffic on my gas-guzzling Kinetic in a coffee-deprived haze, absentmindedly plucking my eyebrows in the rear-view. But the rest of the time I really did strive to kick the grey matter into gear.

Then my niece visited us. I was 10 when she was born. As I recollected our relationship as children, I fondly remembered how I used to pinch her when she didn't give me her share of cream wafers, how I pulled her hair, made faces until she burst into tears and hid her toys.

Being a 10-year-old aunt was neat. There could be no denying I was the queen. She knew her place then. I was better, as I was older. I revelled in my superiority.

Well, it's been almost a lifetime since I had seen this childhood victim of mine. She dropped in for a visit with her sweetheart, and after having dinner with them, I've got to be honest: I don't feel superior anymore.

Gone are her days of teething rings and bottles. This is the era when chic clothes, expensive perfume and that carelessly coifed hair, which, when I attempt it, always leaves me looking like I've used a helicopter fan to blow-dry my hair, is in.

My mother dearest couldn't contain her delight. "Doesn't she look great!" she said. "You know, she's not even wearing makeup!"

So she looked great. Big deal!

But to tell you the truth, it was a big deal. My Ego was demolished: Not only beautiful, smart too. She's studying at IIT Kharagpur.

She was voted Miss Popular on Campus last year. She has tremendous fashion sense. Black shirt, black jeans, black boots. That perfect 'Oh, what? This old thing?' outfit. My clothes never say that. It's more of an 'Oh my God! Why are you wearing that old thing?' kind of ensemble for me when I try to pull it off.

And the boyfriend. Former taekwondo instructor, cute as a button, just the right mixture of bashfulness and suavity. And he was funny, too. Damn it. I hate it when other people are funny.

Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. After all, I'm a young 20-something. I may not have been Miss Popular ever, but my family and friends really like me. They don't have too much choice really. Frankly, they just put up with me since I don't shut up.

I have fashion sense. A sense that's been drowning in track pants, I admit. Functionality over fashion, I say.

And I have a man. Not a martial arts expert, not cute as a button, not funny (except when he's not trying to be), but he's there. Not quite, but there. I guess.

Wait a minute, I don't have to take this emotional battering any more. I am a human being, I have feelings and emotions too. And I am going to take care of them. I think I will go see my niece tomorrow and hide her boyfriend.

And thanks for listening. I feel much better.

Shilpa Athalye has regained her confidence in her charms now.

Illustration: Lynette Menezes

Tell us what you think of this diary

Be part of an exciting venture!

  Write a Diary!