Every scar have a story to tell

a real Story of Scar turning into Strength!

Sketch (Angel with one wing) below is an extension of Rachi Creations.. created by thyself for this post!

I don't know what nature a peacock possess but I know that I like peacock for their beautiful feathers looks. Everyone of us very humanly first get attracted to the physical appearance. A human desire for physical beauty is perceived to be aesthetically pleasing. Well shaped and perfectly polished by the media culture and old school meter to judge a person in one look actually has much deeper roots. How our eyes looks, nose is appropriately fine, sharp cheek bones, long lustrous hair, shinny skin and our height weight, balanced craving structure that we actually almost forget who we really are.

Being beautiful by heart is something one can evolve in due course of time if we want to. No wonder we also want to be like Greek Gods and Goddesses. If not absolute then at least nearly having better than just good looks. But when beauty means only by the skin, involves body or hair it is equally tough to deal with the standards society have created. And if that same body have a scar nobody can save that person from having left with piercing mark on hearts too. Living with any kind of scar is tough, physically and emotionally.

...while scars are harmless to health but leaves marks in mind and soul..

I don't know exactly how a guy would perceive a scar on his body, may be an alluring sign of being rough and tough. But when it come to girls, they might never want ever in their life would like to admit it that they owe few scars on their delicate body. And having scars on visible parts of their body causes them some amount of embarrassment!
When the scars are natural or by birth we crib but often learn to accept them. But when the scars on the body are by some accident, surgery, illness or injury those scars leaves deeper scars on heart too. This is tough to handle for ages. Scars which are at the visible part of the body makes us always self-conscious that people might know about it and will then talk evil about it pretending sympathy, even if they are not talking negative, the person with scar tend to get bitter by nature. There are ugly times in darkness when those dark scars reminding about the event, an uncontrolled circumstance when they actually got them. While scars are harmless to health, wound heals but leaves marks in mind and soul.

Iwas five something, a very active and an energetic child by nature. Like any other usual morning I woke up early. My school used to be in afternoon so I had enough time in morning. That was a day, something in mid of winters, when I got up early and thought that I must do something which I learn in my school. So, I wore my shoes and went out for a walk. Just like any other busy morning, my father was getting ready for his office and my mom busy to prepare breakfast. Nobody had even a hint of what the later day holds. I went out without saying anyone. It was a matter of an hour. I went to a garden not very far from my home. I choose going there because there were lots of flowers and hence had lots of monarch butterflies fluttering around. That place used to be my 'Alice in wonderland' kind of place. I had this vivid colourful imaginations and heaven like fantasy about that place. And like any other happy child would do, I was walking and running around catching butterflies.
Next thing I remember somebody shaking me, asking me my address, my name, my father's name. I was in half unconscious state. Someone picked me in his arms and took me to my home. My mother fainted looking at me. My father was instantly called off from the office. There was red blood all over the white shirt and hands of the man who brought me home. They immediately took me to the hospital. I was made to sit on the table in the hospital emergency ward. My mom was there holding me tight. The nurse teared off my pajama with the pair of scissors. And literary they found kind of chunks of my leg flesh. My leg looked like having a hole and blood was oozing out of it. (I am sorry to have written this, not mean to scare you but something truth need to be told ). My mom closed my eyes with her cold hands. She was shivering. She didn't wanted me to see those wounds.

While my eyes were still closed, my mind went back to the story to it's original status. Suddenly I realized that when I was walking in the garden, I think since I didn't see at that point of time that a mad dog came behind me and with his sharp long canine teeth pierced my skin and garbing my leg. He violently dragged me and was simply unwilling to leave me. I was shouting, suffering and same time I fainted by fear and unbearable pain.

I think that the crowd came to help me but nobody could actually know how to help. Then I remember a stranger coming to me, patting my cheek constantly to wake me up and asking my name and other stuff. I was already in half unconscious state of mind, by then.

While waiting for a doctor, the wound was being washed under running cold water tape.
Soon doctor came, he asked the nurse to take me to the operation theater quickly. I was given a pain killer and was conscious. Until I reached the Operation room I had no idea what that doctor was going to do. I was asked to laid back. My mom was waiting outside anxiously. I was asked to behave like a good child. I was not getting fussy. But when I heard the nurse and Doctor conversation, I was scared. There were other male nurses holding tightly my hands and legs. I knew something worst and painful would happen next. I was afraid of something like a sticking a long needle directly into me without having anesthesia due to some medical safety requirements. This whole process took more than a hour I guess. I was tired of crying, shouting for my paa, my mom, tired of the severe endless pain. There were good fourteen stitches covering my leg, closing the wounds.

I still don't remember when everything was over and I was brought home.
I was in deep sleep, woke up only in the late-evening unconscious of what would had happened. I attempted of getting down the bed, tried walk and suddenly realized I could not bend my leg. One leg was almost numb. It was bandaged. And my hands had some blue bruise which were hurting badly. Soon my mom came running, brought me water. I saw my mom's face all so pale. She must have cried that whole day. I couldn't cry in-fount of my mom. She cleared her chocking throat and managed to say few words like, 'don't get down from the bed, you need anything call me!'

Initially I thought it was a matter of a day may be few hours.
But I was restricted to be on bed for next two and half months. Worst was still to come. I couldn't attend school. I couldn't play. I was tired of being on bed all the time. I got so irritated in nature then. I remember the food I love the most was cooked almost everyday. My mom did not scold me if I was not willing to eat vegetables and enjoyed my roti/bread with lots of (Amul)butter spread on it or eating it at times with only (Kissan tomato ketchup)sauce. Every day at every meal, my mom used to feed me with her warm fingers. I think this was kind of only good part of the ugly story. They were very supportive. My paa was also not angry on me. Yet then they did try to know from me what exactly the things took place.

Tough things and a rough time was still not over for me and my parents.
I remember taking bath sitting on a chair with plastic wrapped around my leg to avoid water going inside. My mom used to wash my hair hanging down the chair. Constantly rubbing and drying me off with a towel. Even a drop of water entering the wound would only worsen the situation. She would never like to take any such weird chances. I was taken to the hospital every morning by my paa before he went to office to change the dressing. I saw my scars. Those bad ugly looking dark threads of the stitches on my leg. 'Don't touch them!' a male nurse said to me. I remember asking him almost every alternate day, will my leg look fine later. He always smiled and said that the wounds will heal. It will take time but will be healed. I liked his dedication, his affectionate smile and that extra care he took not to hurt me while he re-bandage the whole thing.

“Soon at the early age I knew there were certain things in life when we wait for the long period of time to act upon and heal the wounds. We had no option but to wait! Wait for the miracles.

According to the hospital sources they think,"I'm lucky".
They think that if the dog's sharp canine tooth had even slightly touched my leg bone, they had no choice but to cut my leg to avoid spreading of poison. I understand the importance of having limbs.

I always wondered why this happened to me.
I couldn't sleep for long because of bad dreams I had. Dreams like something was capturing me, chocking me, clenching from behind, something dark with strange shrills. It was a difficult time. I was still a kid then, used to wear skirts and frocks. And often my scar was easily visible to everyone. Sometimes my friend's parents used to ask me about it and feel sorry. The harsh was when one of my friend's mother in a sympathetic tone said 'You will never be able to wear shorts or skirts when you get older.' Wearing something specific was never an issues. But in a early age having on mind a kind of restriction is an unpleasant feeling.

“My mom used to always say that the scars becomes older, it will gradually fade away and become less noticeable. I could never understand that. Though, they will fade significantly over time, have been less noticeable but will never go away completely. That's scary right. I have been always self-conscious, no wonder. I kind of became a much more bitter and angry then. It's not easy to let it go when the scars are visible, people talk, nothing works and you end up pretending things are "just fine not a big thing at all" which makes us feel worse. Scars are emotionally exhausting and damaging to self esteem absolutely, I understand that very basic fact! Sometimes you can hide the pain but alas never the scar! (Oh! I'm literate and am aware of the science how much it have progressed. And if you are thinking of all that cosmetic plastic surgery stuff, I request you to kindly not read further since this is a kind of real suppressed story for years and is not a plastic perfect story to cherish! Sorry to disappoint you!)


Certain lessons in life you learn by yourself!
Nobody can ever teach you, since people never will never know what you are going through. Some scars marks are buried so deep and hidden inside a person's heart that it is harder to give help to heal.

For being two and half months on bed was not that big deal.
It was more of the early summer vacation of agony and pain. But there were my final exams which I could not attend. Since I could not give my final exams, a conscious deliberate tough decision was taken by my parents that I must redo my classes and not get simply promoted to next class. Basically repeat the whole year in the same class. Where everyday I could see my classmates and my friends going in other class, I was in a class with new children around me. Initially it was difficult to make new friends. But I had no choice but to accept the circumstances. Yes, I understand how innocent a child heart is, so fragile to understand the situations and act upon strongly.

“Life was changing rapidly.
I was losing my friends but making new.
I was able to play again but with scars.
My mom loving me but getting more worried of me if I didn't come back home early. My father being true friend of mine during rough times when it was difficult for me to go school. He used to play with me, paint with me, sing with me. Because there are certain tough decisions need to be taken and act upon them precise.

Honestly, my scars, the fourteen stitches in my leg haunted me for almost fourteen years of my life, almost until I completed my schooling. Because I was unable to figure out anything positive out of it except that I still had limbs which serve the purpose and that's the utmost significant and miraculous thing.

I was doing my graduation, first year when one day we had to go out in some social get-together. Like any other teenage girl, I was preaching my mom which dress she must wear. No wonder I wanted my mother to look at her best. Just when I was helping her to wear the saree, something familiar yet strange came into my sudden notice. I saw scar on my mom's abdomen area. It was like a set back for me. My scars always haunted me for years. I could not bear to see a scar on my mother's body. I quickly asked my mother what exactly was that and how she got them. I saw my mother's facial expression of hiding something or she could not tell something at easily. The fear of having scars haunts everyone of us, my strong mother is no exception. She soon tried changing a story and said apprehensively she just have them. I again curiously asked her, finally she said with a smile that she got these scars on her body while giving a birth to a child, that's me. It was a complicated surgery. I'm a cesarean child. How could I forget that fact when kids in school in fun used to discuss whether their head popped first or the feet came first, I never had an answer to it ever. I couldn't understand what I should have told my mother at that junction of moment. I chose to be silently agreeing to her then. Though, I wanted to be apologetic to her for giving those scars.

But my mother taught me to rejoice the scars by accepting me and loving me at the most. I proclaimed latter that may be scars are there to tell a story, how bravely we recovered during tough times. It is massively unfair when society/people pin points and creates certain assumptions about the person who have a scar of any kind. I just wish they had seen a bit of elegance and grace, a person with scar portraits in every gesture only to look a bit of good! They definitely don't know the tough period, the person have gone through. Just like my sweet friend 'MG' says, 'Don't judge my path, if you have not walked my journey!'

“It took me a long to understand and learn not to be ashamed of my scars or any flaws. Most of the time now, I don't even think about it. Today, I accept them whole-heartily and know that those scars have only made me stronger. These scars are today an absolute part of me, which have molded me and crafted my life all together.
I am more empathetic towards certain aspects of life now. There are certain things in life which cannot be mend. And if we learn to accept them, the sooner, the better.
I think may be the whole process was only to slow me down a bit so that I could enjoy certain little but sweet changes around me.
I would have never met the people whom I call my best friends today, if that event had not occurred and consequently decisions finalized.
I also learnt that I had nothing to compromise, there was no choice. I had to accept every little uneven changes in life and on the skin. Best part is I still don't believe in compromise. I will never compromise to any situation, rather choose to accept them whole heartily. I will only act tougher and stronger to deal more effectively to look so effortlessly good.

And before I conclude my scar story, the one who gave me scar, I'm kind of scared of them, fear comes easily after accident but I do not hate them. (Read Here if you don't believe me.) Being bitter and bit of anger for a time being was natural but in the process of recovery I learnt to reveal the best of me. My scars actually helped to shaped and molded me into a better being.
I learnt in a hard way, that it wasn't anybody's as such a fault. Bad things just happen sometimes. I feel that I gave a big scar to my mom while coming to this earth and may be my scar was just a justified scar to that.

I'm happy to see that people love me because of who I am and not because of what I wear. I don't self-doubt which would make me more susceptible to petty threats and insults. It's like, you suddenly fell down on the rough ground and scrape your knee, a wound appears on that area. The blood gets coagulate and stops from further more lose of blood. Eventually, a scar like thing is formed to protect that same area from further wounding. Let that protected layer does not shield your true real image and prevent you to turn forever sarcastic and hide you from being content and really happy.
I stumbled but did not crumbled to the insults, harsh comments or hurt. I am not making any deliberate choices to hide my scars, since I have accepted them as a part of learning in life. I am grateful to those few people and close friends who were there at my side to support me during the whole process of recovery. In fact, I decided at a very young age to focus on good life and enjoy the pursuit of complete good health.

“I constantly feel blessed and there are so many good things in my life to see and feel. Interestingly, I discovered that Life have it's own funny way of enriching and enhance your life, sometimes with blessed miraculous happy moments creating a mile stone and often with tough testing times, when we take decisions that changes our life forever, creating a turning point of life.

Unexpected scars, unknowingly searched a path of enlightenment! Since, I was restricted to get down from the bed for a long duration of time, I started spending time in sketching. I realized that unfavorable moment actually created a favorable circumstance for me to discover new satisfying skills. I feel that it was like a bird which could not fly with a clipped wing or one wing but I could fly high with my imaginations, crayons colour box and my sketching abilities.

I'm glad that today people associate me with my smile and not for the scars on the body. And this is a bigger picture to focus on. There shall always be little twists and turns that may happen along the way. Writing is a healing process, where we walk and re-live the whole thing and go through the same pain again for hours while putting up the emotions in words. Since I did that, I know that I am completely healed. To remember those hard times once in a while, it isn't a bad thing.
Everyone has their own battles to fight everyday.
Everyone have a little sad story turning into success some day.
Moreover, because it happened I am able to share one.
Each one of us have scars, few flaws and some imperfections making and moulding them to look totally fine and perfect in life.

On a lighter note, only thing I like and live for is bliss. I neither bark nor bite, thanks to French guy Louise Pasteur who invented vaccine way back in Year 1886.
Between I'm no more a morning person you see. Anyone who knows me well will see me late nights working like an owl. And getting up early in the morning is almost like an event. I think this is one of the major funny thing that has changed in course of life because of one event. I prefer to have a walk at night rather than in morning. And when I have nothing to do, actually I end up doing lots of sketches until my finger hurts badly. Thanks to identifying sketching skills as an asset at the early age. I am neither expert nor a learned professional in drawing/painting but I am truly passionate while sketching. Ultimately, live with passion, live your passion is more important in life, is what I have learnt and so far can comprehend.

Since, this contest by Indiblogger was about Kissan's 100% Real Blogger to share "100% real experiences while growing up", I thought of sharing this miraculous incident of my life which is absolutely very personal. While revealing it in a written form, it almost took me into hibernation mode and stimulated guts and grace together to pour down the emotions into words.
I hope you learnt something from this long post! Thank you for reading it with patience! Thank you Indiblogger and Kissan for creating this contest which brought down something real of me, something more of me in real.

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