Saturday, 12 November 2011

Scars of a different Kind.....

A child born in the virgin mountains. The only people in her world , her mother, her best friend ( man servant) she lovingly called Noni. On the periphery was her father and her siblings who came home from time to time from the hostel they were studying in. She was a wild flower, left much to her own devices. Suddenly one day when she was about 7 years old, she finds herself too in the boarding school. Her days of talking to the telephone operators for hours, lording it over the many servants her parents were privileged to have, her adoring mother's supervision of her studies and rest of the hours spent in day dreaming were rudely halted by the strict routine life of a boarding school. She had to eat dinner at 6 which she never had, her study hours went by dreaming up stories of characters from Enid Blyton she had recently started reading. No more personal attention or supervision. She was bored in class where teachers kept repeating things over and over again. Her final report card came, she was so ashamed, from being the topper till then, suddenly she was one of the weakest students in class. She had not failed by in the ranking system she was maybe in the last ten of a fairly large classroom.

She was happy she was going home. She would again be in the sunshine of her mother's love. She would again talk to the telephone operator that would connect her to her father, whose office was just downstairs. She would eat and sleep at normal time. Her journey got over fast enough waiting for those happy moments again....

She was standing in front of her father. Two strangers from his work place were there, her mother somewhere in the background. She had just handed over her report card. There had not yet been the warm reunion, the hug and swirling in the air she was anticipating. She had seen her father lose his temper with others before. She had been scared of him and hated it when he tried to make her learn tables, with sarcastic, caustic comments on her absent mindedness. She usually had her mother rescue her after an hour or so of learning by rote. Today she knew she would be scolded. Suddenly she heard her father say "and next time you're not in the top five I will tell everybody, you are NOT MY DAUGHTER, you're the daughter of my servant who I'm bringing up"......... He said a lot more, but she heard nothing more, i don't think she cried that day, and I don't know any other day of her life, when these words have not made her cry inwardly since then. ....

Bricks and stones may break my bones, but your words cannot hurt me.... but they can, they do, a small sentence long forgotten by the person who said them, by the people around.... I remember them, everyday. Every time I feel I've failed in life, every time I make human errors. This sentence lashes across my soul and I scream.... No one can hear those screams of pain unseen, the wounds are not on the body so no balm Can be applied, The scars are not physicals, so no one even knows, the anguish is so deep .....What made this wound deeper was the reply to this sentence my Ego had shot back and my brain had stamped for posterity.... " then I do not want to come first, I do not want your love or to be your daughter if your love changes according to my marks on my report card"  Every time I'm just about to succeed an inner rage fills me and like that day, I turn away from success and walk away, I do not want you. I do not want love that comes with conditions . Love and success have become diametrically opposite in my head.

As a student and now teacher of metaphysics, you learn to take responsibility of everything that happens to you. You realise the choice is always yours on how you respond to a situation. That little girl's anger was so much and lived with me for most part of my adulthood. its only now that I'm daring to write about one of the most profound and painful incidents of my childhood. I lived with that sense of rejection for years. The choice I made a few years back was to embrace success in my personal and professional life. I chose to let go. There are times when old patterns come back to haunt you, this is one ghost of my past I'm willing to face

It took me more than 48 hours to bring myself to write this piece. I logged on and off countless times. I was scared of repercussions from my father, if he read this, I was afraid people who read this would not understand why a simple reprisal every child receives became such a huge issue in my life. It did. It corroded my soul, my life, my self esteem over the years. I got into relationships with men who made me feel small, rejected me over the years. Gave up moments before hitting the jackpot in my career so many times I've lost count. My book lies complete with me, unpublished not one, not two there are three books ready I dare not take them to a publisher.  Scars of childhood on the body may heal over the years, the ones on the heart seldom heal.

I no longer blame, this is not written to justify any of the choices I make in life. This piece I write to share demons large and small that can be conquered, that can be tamed. The life is yours, the choices are yours, the only approval that matter's is your own....


  1. professing love, spewing hate, giving a blessing or a curse all rely on WORDS . they motivates revolution and destroys self esteem . INTENT OF WORDS BUILDS WORLDS AND DESTROYS FAITH . Words are powerful and it is this long lasting effect of some stray mindless words on an innocent child and how she comes to term with it. This poignant portrayal makes one sit up and think about what to say and how thoughtfully it is to be communicated . This passage also shows the difficulty in coming to terms with the scars of some reckless words.
    KUDOS :)

  2. Resignation to love develops detachment and helps one to remain unaffected by pain, happiness or misery. Frustrations and setbacks in life are as much the dispensation of providence as success and advancement. Regards, Nilanjana