Bitter Steps to better life

Chapter 15: Is it necessary to hide ourselves?

When I was small, I was chubby and fair. As I grew up, my skin was slightly dark, but it had lots of glow and bloomed like a flower. But as I stepped into puberty, I got lots of pimples, which left lots of scars on my face, but I never bothered. From childhood, my family always cracked jokes at me and my father. I don't know how my father ever spoke a word to them, but those words would burn me like acid. I always kept quiet; I was not like others who could answer them.

In childhood, my father would always suggest that I put some powder on my face. I don't know why I never liked it. Even when I grew up, some called me Granny, whereas others named me in the 1960s. Sometimes it's okay, but not always. I still took it as a joke and laughed along with them. My stepmom would always ask me, "Don't you feel any excitement about some makeup and fashion after seeing your classmates?" She would continue, "See them; they are so fashionable, and you, in spite of staying in Goa for several years, never did so. Girls should always dress up in some fashionable way and be stylish. Look at you; you look as if you have given birth to 3–4 children, and your life is hell". At that moment, I would really feel like bursting into laughter rather than taking it seriously.

When I went to college each and every day, I would get new and trendy suggestions to do some makeovers so that I looked cool. I would always ask myself, "Is it necessary to follow the crowd? Is it necessary to do makeup even if we don't like it? Is it necessary to wear jewelry? Is it necessary to wear clothes that are expensive?". All these questions would swirl in my mind. I never had an answer to all these questions, but I had only one statement in mind: I will be famous through my hard work, not by my face. When I heard Abdul Kalam's saying, I was inspired by his thoughts. It hit me hard to believe in myself rather than the crowd.

Even on social media, many taunted me, saying "No one will ever love you because you are black". I would reply to them, "It's better to have self-love than fake love, which is hungry for lust and body". No one believed me that I didn't have any relationships or fell in love. Once, when I was sitting in class, I heard a voice coming from behind. She said, "I like the way she faces everyone with a strong, hard-core belief that she can be successful, even without modification of her face". That was enough for me to move on. I don't know why it's happening to me that even after so many taunts and jokes, I would never agree with them.

Maybe it's my stubborn internal mind, which never wants to change. Even once, when my stepmom brought cream and kept it, I never used it. The whole year, it was in the same place, so before she came from the village, I threw it in the dustbin. Not only makeup, but I would never experiment with any hairstyles with my hair. I feel blessed with this color. It saved me from being a victim of a severe breakup. I was blessed because I could feel the pain of dark people, but this would make us stronger than others. People will judge us anyway. Even if I were fair, they would say you are too stylish and have too much attitude. So it's better to be happy with what we have rather than cry over things we lack.