The Scar on My Face (on Gratitude)

The town I had belonged just stays behind as I escape the mental trauma, the snide remarks I had endured every day for a period long enough to sabotage my peace of mind. All this while, I had only prayed they would see the good heart beneath my not so attractive appearance, all thanks to the scar I received for my act of gratitude.

One decade before, my Dada and I were very happy with whatever we had. He would do all odd jobs to send me to school but never could make enough for the both of us to have even two meals daily. I was this pretty little girl who used to just dance wherever she went. People would stop by, drop a penny or two and compliment me both for my looks and my grace in dancing.

One day, my Dada didn’t wake up. I didn’t cry but stood on the road all blank. A few days later, one of the regular ladies took me to a Dance Academy. The lady was familiar to me, the one who used to praise me all the time. Soon, I found out she was the dance instructor there. She would encourage me to move a bit, shake my leg and after several days, I got accustomed there. Things became normal and I started mastering the Art. I became the center of attention. We performed at various shows. My popularity rose to new heights.

Out of nowhere, beyond imagination, the unthinkable happened one night. My instructor and I returned home after a fun-filled party only to be greeted by a nightmare. Three men, with the intention of just robbing, held a knife demanding her to cooperate and hand over all our belongings. She protested and they were about to hit her when I pulled her back and we ran towards the parking bay. I had to return her kindness. As an act of gratitude for all she had done for me, I hid her at the corner and ran as fast as I could towards the opposite direction throwing my purse at them. However, I was soon outrun. They tried to rip everything off me but unable to find anything seemed valuable, they cut my face with the knife and vanished from the sight. Writhing in pain, I screamed my heart out. My instructor came running.

“Are you alright?” she enquired shockingly. I was speechless.

“We need to address the wound immediately”, she said sadly and drove me to a nursing home nearby.

I was given sedatives and the next morning I woke up, she was nowhere to be seen. I asked the nurse, “Sister, where’s the lady who brought me here?”

“Oh, you don’t worry, she paid for everything and left you this note”, she handed me the piece of paper indifferently.

“Good Bye!” the note read.

I was blank all over again. Not understanding a single thing what just occurred, I went back to the Academy.

Whoever saw me yelled at me, “Look at this Ugly Duckling, go away. This isn’t your place anymore”. I tried to narrate the whole incident but everyone seemed too busy to help me heal my pain. I no longer could partake in any shows. All I was given was mockery and constant stares.

This day, I leave behind everything and walk to an obscure land hoping to disappear amidst the crowd, like my instructor did. As I traverse along, I recall one of my favorite quotes by Mother Teresa,

“Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.”

I met this lady draped in a white sari with blue stripe during one of our shows we conducted for charity. As a reward, Mother Teresa had guided me with some of her insightful thoughts while making me understand her purpose in life. Thinking of her, I smile at a passer-by. He smiles back at me. Now, I feel better. I continue smiling at everyone I come across until one remark completely leaves me stunned.

“You have a beautiful smile. Even more beautiful is the scar on your face which reminds me of the moon that shines on every night to light the darkness. Keep smiling!” the on-looker pats me on my back.

“Thank you, you have just made my day!” I exclaimed rather enthusiastically.

I tread on with a wider smile and a confidence to deal with any storm that comes by. Sometimes, it’s just the small things where our strength lies.

Maybe, THE SCAR on MY FACE isn’t that bad. Maybe, it’s just a silver lining.