I’ve always been fond of John. Short fellow, yes, but he somehow looked taller than most—on stage, in a crowd, even over a steaming cup of cutting chai. People said he wasn’t good-looking, but I’d seen enough pretty girls clinging to his arm to know otherwise. What he had was confidence.
Till last evening.
“Bob, you won’t see me for a while!” he declared.
“Holiday?” I asked. “Not eloping, I hope?”
“After I’m back, women will want to elope with me!” he grinned.
“Back from where?” I asked, puzzled.
“Hospital. Under the surgeon’s scalpel.”
“Whoa, you sick?”
“Perfectly fine,” he said, sliding a glossy sheet across the table. A tall, dashing man looked up at me—sharp jaw, thick hair, movie-star shoulders. Looking closer, I realized it was John. Or rather, a software-generated, Bollywood edition of him.
“Well?” he asked. “Like my makeover?”
Before I could answer, little Sita—six years old, who often came over to play with my dog—skipped in. “Uncle Bob, Uncle John! Want me to read you a story?”
“Perfect timing,” I said.
She opened her book and read:
“Once there lived a stonecutter, unhappy with his life. He wished to be a merchant, then a prince, then the sun, then a cloud, then a mountain. Each wish was granted, but each left him restless. Finally, as a mighty mountain, he saw a little stonecutter chipping away at his side. ‘That man is stronger than me,’ the mountain thought. ‘I wish I were a stonecutter again.’”
Sita closed the book and smiled at John.
He tried to stay serious, then burst out laughing.
“You know something, Uncle John?” Sita said gravely. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you!”
“Why me?” he asked.
“Because you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen—when you laugh!”
I watched as John tore up the projection and hugged her, still laughing. “Guess I’m better off being just John,” he whispered to me.
And isn’t that the truth?
We chase makeovers, power, status—forgetting that the glow that makes us attractive isn’t chiselled jaws or borrowed cheekbones. It’s joy. It’s laughter. It’s the peace of knowing who we are and being content in it.
But peace doesn’t come from the mirror or a surgeon’s knife. Real peace comes when we’re latched on to the One who made us, who alone can quiet our restlessness. And from that peace bubbles up a joy that no projection can produce—a joy that breaks into laughter, the kind that made John suddenly the most handsome man in the room.
Because true happiness isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about finding your anchor in Him, and discovering that from the peace He gives, comes laughter, and from laughter, beauty.
Want to be the handsomest or prettiest person in the room? Get latched on to the One who can make it happen..!
The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to bobsbanter@gmail.com
