LIVING WITH SCAR-a confession from beyond kindness

It was raining and I lie on my crumpled bed the whole day inside my small room and think about many incidents and all the times I’ve been through. I knew that I was sent here after a long journey but ironically I never even thought that I’ll end up like this-inside a small room, locked up under a strict rule, never to have faced right and left alone!

Only to myself I often cried when the lights are out and when everyone seems to be head over heels busy with their own sleeping schedule. Those who knew me might feel strange; yes, it may look odd because as duly looked I always have an elated mood, splattering joy to everyone but I do well fuse when on a specific circumstances. I am not crying because of the prince charming or that kind of thing but because I need so badly the simple acceptance which normal people received!

According to my mother I was a chubby neonate with a short, curly hair weighing 4.5kg when I was born! It’s obvious to this day with just a look and a simple glance on me. As unique as how the life’s on I was on another road even before I was born. Strange enough as soon as my parents knew that my mother had conceived her second child they had planned how she should end her life, her profession and the way how I’ll held the special place.  Even to this day the little cardboard more than 20 years old which remain on our drawing room wall made it obvious.

As the baby cry, both the mother and the father are contented as the little reed was tender enough to fight for air and brave enough to fight for the breast milk. She was the promised child and the first daughter of that particular couple. As the girl started spending her days it was soon obvious that fortune and chances doesn’t pass by every day. The congenital conjunctivitis was a curse to the baby from the third day of her life and she live as she was meant to be! A scar of the little pain she bears-a scar of the neonatal conjunctivitis!

Thinking about a place this particular daughter will have on her parents I was once again wounded by the scar and the lipids deposited beyond the wanted but this is not the first time. I tried many times to overcome this thought but as we live in a world where eyes serve better than heart-it’s not that easy to survive! Even though many times I’ve been defeated by this inferiority complex- I rose up just thinking about the purpose that I have in this world, the role that I played in someone’s heart. This kind of cloudy days often reminds me that I need to wake up to see the realization to life because I am not given a chance to choose who I am.

Often in life I came across those little things which means nothing to someone but which are as big as a mountain to the concern personnel. No one; whoever breathe under the sun is given the chance to choose the family in which he is born, his destiny, his physical and mental status that is given. If then, why must one be proud with what he is simply given? Instead he should be thankful that he is alive and shouldn’t he share his beautiful pearls and ruby that he’s born with? With a question in everyday life the unanswered question are often questions that are hard to answer like why should a man without glasses tease a blind man and curse him for the indignity given? Why should one be proud because she is the prettiest girl alive- she wasn’t meant to be proud? It’s just that she is fortunate to have the special genes and that beauty will be gone with the map on the faces when time will make beauty a jest!

Being a hundred percent sane with a chink on the right side of my eyes, with the adjunct face there are times when someone let his jaws up and ask “what is wrong with your eyes?” those questions are the hardest for me to answer because I am totally sane but looks insane as the eyes are not as beautiful as a pair of Japanese pearl; not beautiful is not the only words, it’s under a mediocre of not beautiful. The question often hurt me and my family but I soon took it for granted that sometimes I even thought of myself as a normal being without any misfortune signature like the Iqbal of Arab who was born lame and one of the greatest heroes Arab will ever see.

For many times I forget about the deformities and the traces of the disease that hang on to my face when I was with my family as they took it for granted and accept me just the way I am. My conscience made my misfortune clearer when I look myself in the mirror and whenever I hear people whispering and talking at my back, laughing, despising and mocking the face because of the scar that I’m living with. They don’t know how hard it is lo live with the curse of the past, the curse of having the right eye narrower than the other. They may not even think about all the money that we spent trying too hard to be at least like a mediocre individual or should I tell them all about the travelling and the hospitalization that I receive or should I tell them about how hard it is to survive by my own self or should I tell them about how much my family love me even if the world mock at me. They should have known how much I try to grasp happiness on the palm of my hands, the number of times that I turn away my ears from their laughter and all the whisper that gave me courage to go on, to make some change wherever I am. One day, change will be there!

Even after the 20 plus years of my life the tiny little mocking voice tracing back to the 5^th year of my life to someone’s dirty whisper just the day before rung in my ears and they are the voice which drew me to the corner of my room because they are tied to my life without a string! I often try to curse my parents for making me alive but on the second thought why should I and the reason behind the life of the tender reed just make me draw back my thought because even a mosquito have roles in this circle of life! In addition to all the pain that I secretly bear I might have ask too much to be their friend or just to accept me the way I am. With all the misfortune that befell on me now make me realize the purity and richness of a few loves that I receive from my family, my friends and the people who took me in their life

I once knew a girl whom her classmate called a ‘geek’. She was as tiny as the age wouldn’t allow but she never choose to be a geek; instead she is given and to top it all they should gee her up! There’s a boy next door who was lame just because during his childhood a man from somewhere hit on his right leg that causes cancerous bone. He may have dreamt of his little life to be in spring one day, but he’ll never have the chance to be among those who are chosen first for a football game because he is lame! A human being-even a specific individual who doesn’t know whether he is being chased or whether he is the only insane person in his village or the one who doesn’t have conscience are given a heart which is one of the greatest gift! He deserves to be loved and care or maybe if I’m asking too much he doesn’t deserve to be treated as an animal!

There’s a man whom everybody laughed at because he looks insane and that he carried a bag on his shoulder in which he put all his belongings-  a piece of love letter from his deceased wife, a brown ragged and tattered trouser and a blue parka which he received while he was on a military. Many people may be pleasured by their laugher for a short while but to him that laughter was a sign of the misfortune and the indignity which is given to him. It’s not that he is begging for a morsel instead he just walk pass by the neighborhood with an empty look on his face but I know that he had a heart of gold which only few people see. Sometimes I think that the sanity which is snatched from him was his greatest gift because if he knew the laughter that pleasure others will be his junk of life. The day they lay his wife on the ground was the day when his sanity was snatched!

The super lean girl I met on the mall never choose to be that lean-the people who gave a glance never knew the courage that she is given to fight for the threatening disease and that she is on a medication. The fatso what you called lady doesn’t tell a tale of her metabolism disorder and her thyroid malfunction story because that was not the most interesting tales of her life. The deaf old man, the blind woman who beg on the streets, the Parkinson’s grandmother and the Alzheimer’s father with his little aplastic anemic grandson holding each other and the man who walk barefoot because he gave his son his education with all his money which he earn without squandering, the elated mother with his extreme tall son, the amputated guy at the end of the corridor, the totally odd looking bald man whose hair cannot grow since he was a child because of a specific genetic didorder and the crippled family who always worry for the next day meal,the cleft palette woman who has no money for plastic surgery, the kyphosis gentleman and all those people who are down to hold a cardboard of misfortune never choose to be what they are. It’s not that they have a fulfillment on what they are; it’s just that they are push to learn how to live to their contentment in life by learning to accept their worthless gift. You never know when they’ll be on the verge of breaking down. Owing love and care to the beautiful prosthetics young lady, the debris of the fire which was paste on the face of the man next door who was once a healthy youth, even the mid age vitiligo man cried himself to sleep at night because of the little differences others made fun of. The deformities and the differences (from you) which are paste on our body are not what we ask for; it’s a gift that ironically made us alive today. It’s on the verge of breaking down that makes us realize the value of happiness. Yes, we all dream of a place where we’ll dance with their perfect wings in the noonday sun to the midst of the night!

From all these people I’ve met earlier the scars of the misfortune cause by the neonatal conjunctivitis on my face are just a sprinkle of what they got and I realize I have no reason to question God, to reason my parents and shame on me to complain of what I am given and how I am meant to live. With all the which we thought of misfortune; shouldn’t we thank God for the free sunlight that we received, for all the hidden blessings through the moon, the stars, the wind and every little things that are given when even a drop of rain and a handful of soil are hard to create; not only hard but impossible for mankind.

Isn’t a shame that normal people ask for miracles when every new day is a miracle, when each sunrise is a new and fresh miracle, when every drops of rain are miracles, the ocean, the wind, the mountain all show miracles of the past! For us, the deformed, the unfortunate but the lucky people we see miracles every day. Are we that much different? It’s not that we are from different planet or different world.  You may not see the special gift that we’re born with, if you look beyond the face and the deformities you’ll find that we also laugh, cry, love, try, hurt, feel, fear, take and need in every circumstance in life and that we’re not that different so why despise and mock at us when you have so much time to let your love spread over your world and their world? The hands that hold, the heart that accept us without despise, the look of pity, the clasp of hands and the bending of knees whispering little prayer for us, the voice of little praise are a miracles in which a heart that love however or wherever we are is the greatest miracle. Are we asking too much?

In the garden of different flowers, roses are not given priority and right to show disgrace to the wild flowers. Lilies are not given beauty to mock the chirpy tiny little bushes. Wild flowers are meant to live and show their beauty within their range and moreover to let the beauty of roses shine! Wild flowers really don’t care where they grow. Even when the dew is only on the roses, the grass still performs its duty as it was meant to be, its duty in the circle of life. The maker of all these walk through the garden, scrutinizing each and every flower; even the angels doesn’t make  a sound because each and every flowers are so beautiful that a jaw of the maker might fall on a sunny winter day. We are flowers within the garden of the maker, the flowers which all have a different aspect and beauty inside the garden which is so well looked after.

Those whoever are given life have a purpose to live and everyone deserve dignity and respect even if he is a boy who lie naked on the streets because he is made to live without parents to love and care for him. Our eyes may often met without knowing who we really are- the broken chain upon the dace but never spoke a words to each other, let’s all create heaven for the junk people as we may say with a little smile and a heart of love. Your smile – it is worth more than a thousand box of gold. To top in all, don’t get your pleasure from our pain. Know that in God’s eyes we are all the same.

 Living with the scars of the past, the scars of misfortune and the scars of unworthiness, the scars that we never choose to bear; it is not that easy to have courage to face all the mumbling and the laughter on our back, the shout of despise and that even a tiny mumbled pain is as big as a thunder on a sunny day.  One day you and I, you and us will all dance undignified with the perfect wings we’ve always asked! Faith, hope and love are some of the good things he gave us and all we ask is not your faith upon us, hope upon us but love – just a handful of acceptance and a pinch of love. Are we asking too much? Remember love-it does change the world!

msiRose