We were at grandma’s place and everyone was getting ready to attend the wedding of one of Ma’s many cousin’s. Ma was packing our bags; apparently we had to head out of town to be a part of the celebrations. The rest of the household was busy with their own preparations so no one really had the time to keep an eye on us, my sister and me. My sister was around I guess three years and seven months because I was two years old, even my nanny was busy doing something which I don’t remember. Yes I had a nanny who I thought was my mother till I was five years old. Anyways so as our playtime progressed a sudden brilliant idea hit my mind, an idea which changed my entire life.
We were in granny’s bed room which also housed a dressing table by the window. While playing without any anticipation I looked at the mirror and a thought crossed my mind. I suggested my sister that we should dance on the dressing table in front of the mirror; my sister didn’t want to try it so I being the brave one climbed the table and started dancing. Little did I know what fate had in store for me. No prizes for guessing the table gave way to the weight of a two year old and I came crashing down with the mirror.
My sister stood there in a state of shock watching me under pieces of glass and Ma came running to find me in a pool of blood. As the blood kept flowing Ma went berserk screaming and pretty much gathered the entire household. I don’t know who pulled me out of the shattered glass and pool of blood but when I was out Ma refused to look at me and ran out handing me over to her aunt. I was rushed to a small clinic first where the doctor nearly fainted seeing me bleed profusely. At this point I must add that we were in a small town and what it seems now was eons ago. When the doctor refused to treat me I was rushed to a hospital where I was given stitches and the marks of which are still my best friends. My life really did change that day.
Since that time I have stood out of the crowd. My cousins, relatives, friends and strangers have found me queer. At school people used to ask me, at social dos people used to scan me with questionable looks and I started getting used to and living with it. When I became a teenager and started getting conscious of my looks I asked at home if I could go for a corrective surgery but Baba said that I will be liked for what I am not for my looks so I gave up. When I turned a woman Ma suggested I should get it fixed but by that time I was already used to living my life with it, infact I told Ma that it’s actually my identity.
Its really surprising when I think to myself off late when new people meet me they don’t ask me anything about the stitches or marks. I am accepted with it, no queries no scanning, no queer feeling. Sometimes I do feel curious to know how I would look without those marks but they have been with me for the greater part of my life. I am proud of my LIP STITCHES! Reminds me of the naughty little me