Wednesday, 30 May 2012


A short story.

 It was a dream. Or was it? 30 years and still I remain in doubt. But that day I remember, oh yes. Clear as lake water. I remember HER. All these years of recalling her, I could have thought up a name, a nickname at least to refer to her; calling her a girl, a woman or any such word of femininity is an insult.
        Whenever i start thinking, i don't just randomly start. I get out my favorite armchair, light the fireplace, dim the lights and close my eyes...
     1980. Some far off town in Iran, the name of which has long been changed into something more modern. I don't even remember the place properly, can't even point it out on a map probably. I had gone to Iraq as a volunteer; there had been an earthquake. I began field work in the ruins of some building which had fallen. My friends and I spent hours everyday in the blazing sun.
   One day, 20 or so days after we started working there,we were attacked by a bunch of kids who asked us for money. We spent a few minutes playfully arguing with them, then i got bored, turned around and saw HER.
 In a bright orange dupatta, those green eyes met mine for only a second. I spent my whole life on that one second. High cheek-bones melting into her cheeks, which converged to produce her perfect mouth which was partly open with subtle surprise. Maybe i was staring too intensely; i joked to myself. Her jawbone sharped curved to her ear. That was all I could see. But this perfection, this apparition, this is not what i remember most about her...

      Right across her right cheek was a deep mark, A scar.  Stretching out from her brow to lower lip. Dark as midnight.

It was as if an artist ruined his most prized sculpture, just to save it from the Evil Eye. I don't know where she got that mark, but i like to believe God put it on her face. Maybe because he didn't want her to be vain? Or maybe because he wanted to show the world how nobody is perfect.

I think it was both.

  That face has been dissolved into my veins, imprinted onto my brain; not because of the girl, but because of her scar. It changed my whole outlook of life. It led me to understand that no matter how perfect, how amazing or how ideal a person's life seems to be, there is always a gash upon it. Not on the face? Then it might be something you can't see. Nobody, nothing is perfect. You could look at Cinderella, and say she had a happy ending. But even she had a rough childhood. So nothing is complete, and nothing is ugly either. You just have to look for what you have and others don't!

  She had a scar on her beauty.. that scar taught me life.


  1. This one's fucking legit.
    Also my favourite.


  2. This is amazinggg!!
    You're a really talented writer :D

    P.S found you through Aaishah's blog. Welcome to blogger :)

  3. woah. you have this crazy thing with words. I agree with purplemist, you really are a talented writer. :D
    and welcome to blogger! :D

  4. Talented writer is the only compliment that makes me swoon :D Thanks, JNG. You made me happy ^_^

    P.S. I'm following your blog too!