Once upon a time,
not very far away, there lived a Girl. Born in a simple middle class Indian
family, she was born with one side of her face covered with a red birthmark.
And to make it clear in the beginning itself - No, she had not been burnt or
slapped or suffered an acid attack or painted or got her face colored with
pakka Holi colours (These happened to be the explanations people gave
themselves when they stared at her as if she had 3 heads). She suffered from a
medical condition called the Port Wine Stain (PWS). It is estimated that out
every 1000 kids, 3 have a PWS. And out of every kid born with this birthmark,
only 1 has the PWS on his/her face. She happened to be the one who was chosen
in God’s ‘Lucky Draw’.
Now, for all those
who have decided to continue reading such a seemingly saddening write-up, let
me tell you this is not going to be a sob-story (I hope!). Because the Girl
happens to have a life filled with a lot more joy than many others. She has
been born in the most beautiful family, has the best sort of friends she
could’ve had, has received the best kind of education and can give people a run
for their money for quite a few things. Yes, there are moments of self-pity and
anguish. Times when people crib and cry about their problems and she can’t help
but think that they are in a better position than her. Moments when she walks
on the street and people gape at her and never forget to nudge the person
beside them to encourage them to gape as well. They point fingers, snicker,
laugh, sympathise, go into the ‘Oh-poor-girl-whose-face-God-has-destroyed;
Sniff-sob’ mode. At times she is not, as we Indians call it, velli or ‘un-busy’
enough to notice and then there are times when she notices and choses to act
like it doesn’t affect her.
But, it does. Quite
a lot. And when it does affect her, the ‘why-me’ syndrome catches on, tears are
shed, thoughts are thought and then a little realization crops up. Realization
of the fact that she has been blessed with a lot more than many others and that
there are people whose adoration is not affected by the way she looks. And if
none of these realizations work, Google comes to aid. Call this sadism, but
seeing pictures of people suffering from worse PWSs gives her a sense of being
‘lucky’ that her case is not that bad.
When I talk about
the ‘why-me?’ syndrome, the tear shedding and hours of thinking, I might as
well add, that all of these happen when she is alone. Assumed to be a strong
and confident person by many, the idea of this image being broken by the revelation
of her real thoughts about the Mark disturbs her. She has NEVER talked about
this with anyone. She was never asked anything about the way she looks and more
importantly how it makes her feel. Some
never cared enough to ask and the ones who do care were probably too scared to
ask, lest they offend/hurt her. When sometimes fate threw the issue in a public
arena all that it received was an uncomfortable silence. Long story short, this
is one aspect of her life which is captive of just her thoughts, ideas,
assumptions and perceptions.
Microsoft Word’s
word count tells me that I have written about 581 words till now, but I still
can’t pinpoint why exactly it is important for me to write this ‘story’. It is
probably because I feel there are many unspoken words of the Girl which need to
reach out to somebody. My blog is still in the stage of infancy. Probably this
write-up will reach very few people. But, I want it to reach some, if not all,
of those people who care enough to ‘Google’ birthmarks. They probably will
understand the ‘protagonist’s’ feelings better. They will know that every
person with a birthmark does not really need to be stared at or mocked. Initial
curiosity for a different looking person is understandable but gaping at them
is not. It is not cool. It is not acceptable.

