My body is a temple and my scars have stories to tell.
When the first guy I ever let me touch
Told me I was beautiful,
I left the room immediately.
I ran to the empty adjacent room and locked the door. My heart was beating, like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. I was trembling.
A pit had formed in my chest.
I looked at the mirror and stripped myself off
Of every layer of cloth
That i wore to cover my insecurities.
21 : 34 pm
I stand naked
In front of the mirror, trying.
Trying to find one inch of skin
That made him tell me that.
I look away.
What was i even thinking?
Body and beautiful are antonymous.
And when it came to me, they can never be a part of the same sentence.
I take a deep breath and force my eyes to look back.
I look at the colour palette that my skin has become.
Arms, the darkest,
Face adorned with spots of all sizes and shapes,
Torso, two shades lighter than the back.
1 min 30 secs
My eyes catch the long scar that courses my left abdomen. It’s been there since forever. Mom still breaks down every time she talks about the surgery.
I move on.
It’s been over 15 years.
But i still cannot look at it.
I call it ‘IT’, as if not saying it out loud or ignoring it’s existence will make me forget. Forget, the hands that brushed it, multiple times and me thwarting the worst from happening.
My clothes protected me. Or at least, tried to.
I knew something was wrong.
And I knew how to run.
And I was lucky.
2 mins 55 secs
I have reached the legs.
Thighs with cellulite and stretch marks makes me avert my eyes immediately forward to the knees that are slightly deviated.
I reach the scar on my left foot.
This, has a happy memory.
It’s of a time when I wore whatever mom told me to. And mirrors were just used to comb my hair into a poney tail.
I’d fallen off the ‘Koi Mil Gaya’ scooter
Which had taken 2 weeks of convincing to get.
I come back to the present.
The laughter is lost.
It’s beyond my memory’s ability to hold on for too long.
It’s like a fist full of sand.
It echoes like a ghost of an unknown past.
3 mins 35 secs
This cant be beautiful.
This isn’t beautiful.
It’s a map of my insecurities that cannot be privy to anyone’s eyes.
I dress myself again.
4 mins 02 secs
I am sorry to run off like that. I know it’s been three years but i still need time.
I am not ready.
4 mins 30 secs
I love you.
You are beautiful. Okay?
Sleep now. 🙂
17 : 34 pm
I walk into my home to find him standing there with open arms and a smile that still gives me butterflies.
He takes out a marker from his pocket.
“Do you trust me?”
1 min 02 secs
He undresses himself.
He takes the marker and retraces every scar
That mar his body.
And with every tracing,
he tells me his story.
The stories I have always wondered about.
Stories, that make his eyes mellow for a moment
but lighten up in another.
Stories that makes me believe.
Believe that I am not alone.
Believe that scars can be beautiful.
And that we are all on the same boat
Trying to hide pain from each other,
Shying away the moment we see emotions creeping out,
Afraid to talk
Afraid of feelings,
Afraid to be vulnerable,
When all we need, is to strip off the layers in front of each other
And embrace being the
Gods and Goddesses
I AM BEAUTIFUL.
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.