The thirty seconds nobody talks about
You do it without thinking. You are already dressed, already running slightly late, and yet you stop. The mirror gets one last look, not to check for a stain or a stray hair, though you tell yourself that's why. You adjust something that didn't need adjusting. You hold your own gaze for a moment. Then you leave.This is the rehearsal. Every woman does it. Almost no one names it.What's happening in those seconds is not grooming. The kajal is already done. The dupatta is already pinned. What you are doing is running the performance one more time before the audience arrives, composing the face that will meet your mother-in-law at breakfast, your manager in the 10 a.m. meeting, the aunty at the sabzi mandi who will comment on your weight before she says hello.
