The Back of ………..Hand
Hands That Will One Day Grow Old
The back of my hand:-
I clicked this picture while I was on my way to Bhairon Baba Temple after having the blessed Darshan of Maa Vaishno Devi. ❤️🙏
I was travelling in the electric ropeway, and it was extremely crowded. As it started moving higher and higher, I began to shiver. Heights have always made me a little nervous.
So, I quietly sat in one corner and took this picture.
For some reason, I really liked it.
So I kept it.
When I look at this picture today, I notice that the back of my hand looked much healthier than it does now. Over time, it has become thinner. I don’t really know why, but I feel like I’m becoming skinnier day by day.
The blue veins on the back of my hands are now much more visible. Sometimes, while typing on my laptop, they stand out even more. Since writing has become such a big part of my life, I spend hours every single day typing. I may not do many household chores, but my hands are constantly working on the keyboard.
And because I see my hands all day long, I notice every little change they go through.
Even then…
I still love my hands. ❤️
They are soft, fair, delicate, and perhaps the softest hands in my entire family. I can even wear very small bangles, which is one of the reasons I enjoy wearing bangles so much. I dream of wearing beautiful chooda, applying nail polish, trying nail extensions, and decorating my hands in every little way possible. 🌸✨
But then…
I look at my grandmother’s hands.
They are covered with wrinkles. The skin has loosened with age. They have become darker, rougher, and much harder than mine.
And suddenly, something shifts within me.
Those hands are beautiful in a way mine can never be — not because they look perfect, but because they have lived.
They have spent decades cooking for the family, caring for loved ones, working tirelessly, praying, sacrificing, and holding together an entire home.
Get Monika Mahadev’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Every wrinkle tells a story.
Every rough patch is a memory.
Every line is proof of a life filled with love, responsibility, and countless silent sacrifices.
Then I realize that there is no reason to be overly proud of the beauty of my hands.
They are not meant to remain soft forever.
They are meant to work.
They are meant to create.
They are meant to help.
And one day, if life blesses me with a long journey, my hands will also become like my grandmother’s.
Wrinkled.
Weathered.
Perhaps darker.
Perhaps rougher.
And that will be perfectly okay.
Because beauty is temporary, but the work these hands do and the love they give will always matter far more.
It is beautiful to admire what we have.
But losing ourselves in temporary beauty is not.
Because the true beauty of our hands doesn’t lie in how soft they are…
It lies in what they create, whom they comfort, and how many lives they touch. ❤️
Thank you, Parvathi J, for such a commendable challenge. Here is my entry.
