Finding dissent in Beauty

In a moving personal essay, Harsh Aditya writes about how he came to seek refuge, and strength, from make-up

- Harsh Aditya

I remember an exchange with a stranger in 2019 when I was on my way to a gathering during the anti-CAA and anti-NRC protests. I was rushing to one held at the north campus of Delhi University alongside other university students scattered on the streets, armed with various signboards and slogans. I boarded the Delhi metro to notice that amongst the crowd, there sat a guy alone in an empty row of red seats. They were visibly queer and surrounded by the most fierce-looking posters; I decided to sit beside them. I looked around, analysing the crowd-God knows how my social anxiety kicks in-and pulled out a small make-up bag.

A cheap, red blush stained my cheekbones, and brown lipstick adorned my lips (just a touch, not much). I flipped open my compact mirror to see whether I looked presentable. At that very moment, I noticed them turning around.

'Hey, can I use your eyeliner? I picked it out in a heartbeat and passed it to them. Meanwhile, they, too, looked at themselves in their phone's front camera, struggling with the moving metro and the black pen.