What happens when two beauties meet?

By Chithrangada Nanda
There is no contest more pleasing to a woman than outsmarting and outwitting another of her own tribe -- someone quite similar in background and environment.
I, too, have been part of such jousts in the past where a knowing look can flatten your guileful rival-cum-relative.
Only a few weeks ago, I found myself unwittingly in the middle of a battle of glances, and assessment tests by someone close to me.
I have replayed the incident many times and it had me in splits till tears rolled down in straight lines to the corners of my mouth and got mixed with the saliva producing a concoction which tastes exactly like our own 'pulinchy' which is sweet and sour at the same time.
If you do not find what I’m going to tell you funny, don’t blame me, because then you got the sour taste of my feeling.
What happens when two beauties meet?
Fireworks and crackers. But all through gestures, glances and body language.
Imagine the situation if they are brought together by kinship and share the same 'status and vital statistics'! Well, I happen to be the one of that beauties (Here, I see raised eyebrows and curved lips, blame my magic mirror!)
My co-sister and I look alike, and who is more beautiful is a matter of conjecture among our relatives, dividing them neatly into two groups, one supporting her, and the other me.
Two weeks ago, we were put together in a car which is a tight situation which I usually avoid getting into, but caught unaware as soon as I entered and sat next to her I flashed my pearlies brightly (don’t get any idea, I do this even to beggars in a self-patronising way). She returned the courtesy.
Then, the drama began.
I sat upright looking straight at my husband’s head as if it was a piece of great artwork and started counting the white hairs which would keep me engaged. All the while I could feel the heat of her gaze assessing me. First my face, counting the pimples and feeling happy comparing it to her flawless skin, then to the chocker, moving to my well manicured, coral colored nails, lingered there as if to burn it with envy, squinting to get a clear view of my new watch.
And I did a favour by raising my hand to pat my hair. But it was a wrong move from my part as it brought her attention
to my long hair. A vulnerable spot, compared to her thin lifeless curls.
Till now, we haven’t uttered even a single word. The air in the car became thick with the unspoken dialogues. My husband was urging me to make the first move silently through telepathy which he often does, and accounts for the small round, bald patch at the back of his head.
I refused to give in to the bait, and cut these messages
midway successfully like an Arjuna intercepting the arrows of his enemies. Then a deliberate move from my brother-in-law shook the car violently that she fell flat on her face on my lap.
That 'touch' (the most powerful tool of emotions) brought my tender feelings into action and I started making her comfortable, soon chatting like old friends.
And my question to you people is -- Did I lose the game or win it?