If Elesaar Had a Human Face | MUSKAAN
In a world ruled by algorithms, it is trust that moves hearts… and Muskaan.
Elesaar Muskaan — who smiles through it all.
Somewhere in the journey of building Elesaar —
a moment arrived when everything we believed in…
needed a face.
Not a model. Not a logo.
But a person who naturally reflected the rhythm we had always followed.
Not because we trained her — but because she already was that rhythm.
Muskaan.
This is not her story.
This is the story of how truth finally found a smile.
We Had Seen That Smile Before
A long time ago, a schoolboy made a kaleidoscope in class.
He didn’t know what it meant. But when the fragments inside aligned into a perfect design —
he smiled.
He saw that smile again —
on his mother’s face, as she wore a soft itra every evening, waiting for her husband.
A smile of routine, yes — but also of love that never felt ordinary.
His Nani offered him honey with a story from summers past.
She smiled — not because the story was new,
but because it was worth remembering.
His Dadu once returned from the forest
with just a fallen piece of honeycomb —
not breaking, not disturbing, just receiving what was freely given by the bees.
His smile held a quiet kind of pride —
Years later, he met Fariba Aunty,
who wore the scent of love and loss at the same time.
Her husband had passed on — but whenever she spoke of him, she smiled.
A smile that shimmered through tears.
Not a smile for show.
A smile for truth remembered.
And then there was the Darvesh.
He didn’t smile like the others.
But you never saw stress on his face either.
His belief in the universe’s design was so deep,
that peace became his resting expression.
These Weren’t Ordinary Smiles
They weren’t marketing smiles.
Not customer-service smiles.
Not the kind people post on profile pictures.
These were smiles of alignment.
Of knowing that something — a person, a product, a decision — felt right.
That it didn’t need convincing.
That it simply belonged.
And when you’ve seen enough of those smiles…
you start to sense a pattern.
The Pattern Became a Face
One day, sitting beside the Darvesh —
with the scent of memory and honey still in the air —
a woman walked in.
Not with drama. Not with effort.
Just… ease.
And then she smiled.
And that smile…
was all of them at once.
The childhood smile of discovery.
The mother’s smile of devotion.
The grandmother’s smile of wisdom.
The grandfather’s smile of restraint.
The aunty’s smile of depth.
The Darvesh’s quiet knowing.
All reflected — yet new.
Familiar — yet striking
A Coincidence?
One afternoon, I was at the market, looking for a glass tabletop.
Nothing urgent — just a quiet search.
Then I saw it.
A kaleidoscopic design etched in glass — cartoon animals arranged in circular symmetry.
A monkey. An elephant. A fish. A lion. All smiling.
But not grinning for attention.
Smiling with a strange calm — playful, yes… but serene.
I couldn’t let it go.
Something in me said: This belongs in your space.
Miracles Happen?
That evening, I sat at that very table, still wondering about the face I had been searching for —
the one that could reflect Elesaar, not just represent it.
I don’t remember when sleep arrived.
But I remember the image that wrapped itself around my closing eyes.
The kaleidoscope returned. But the animals were gone.
In their place: cartoonish versions of faces I knew.
My Dadu… smiling gently.
My Nani… glowing with her quiet warmth.
My mother… her soft itra still in the air.
Fariba Aunty… tears and all.
Even myself, as a child, held in my mother’s lap — smiling without reason.
And one more face…
faint… radiant… smiling more widely than all.
I didn’t recognize it. I tried. The image stayed.
I opened my eyes — unsettled.
Still thinking of the one face I couldn’t place.
Still holding on to that smile.
And then, something clicked.
I had seen that smile before.
Not in a dream. Not in a story.
But in a quiet moment, some time ago — when I was sitting beside the Darvesh.
A woman had walked in that day.
Not with drama. Not with effort.
Just… ease.
She smiled.
And I remember sensing something familiar.
A feeling — like something had come full circle.
But I hadn’t understood it then.
Now I did.
That unrecognised face in the kaleidoscope —
it had been hers all along.
And the Darvesh, in his usual quiet knowing, had said:
“Whenever you spoke of Elesaar, I always thought of her.
And whenever she smiled, I always remembered Elesaar.
Muskaan… is the human embodiment of Elesaar.”
Elesaar Muskaan | The Meeting
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
And for a moment, we both smiled —
as if the Darvesh had quietly sent us to each other.
She didn’t explain anything.
She just said, gently:
“The honey, the itra, the oil… the real ones —
they were never lost.
They’ve always been there.
Since forever.
And still are.”
That was all.
Nothing else was needed to be said.
Her big white eyes and broad smile —
eternal, kaleidoscopic —
said everything.
“Miracles don’t happen. The questions you put in the question bank of the Universe answers it in a rhythm you don’t expect. These answers therefore feel like miracles. But, in reality, these are replies that your soul attracts to itself.”
