My half smile is like a half saree. It’s not a smile, and its not a grin. It tells you something, but it hides a lot.
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s my way of laughing, without letting out a sound. The old stiff upper lip ; remnants of the English. Maybe it’s because I don’t have the comic timing to get a word in during a conversation and hence listening is a better option. Maybe it’s a facade for my thoughts which have wandered away somewhere else. Maybe my half smile is a way of not saying anything. It’s my way of keeping quiet. But to an astute observer, or for some close friends, the small upward curve of the lips can tell a thousand words.
The half smile is not meant to seduce, just like the full body swim suit does not. It tells its own story, many a time with a swagger, or sometimes just silently. The half smile keeps me engrossed in the casual banter, and yet aloof from the humdrum of it all.
Or maybe the half smile is like the burkha gone wrong. It is meant to hide but creates temptation instead.
My half smile ……
Its mystical, its enigmatic, its irritating…. buts its me.