My Expressions

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It’s an incident of a Thursday afternoon. I was in the 6th grade and it happened to be my 12th birthday. I opened my eyes to the heartwarming wishes from all around. It was an incredible day to start with but who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours.

I reached school and spending time with my friends always had me on the seventh heaven. Oops! The moment is crystal clear in my brain. I was on my way back home and was hit to the core by one of my friends. My left humerus bone was bent and twisted forcefully into the grill school gate.

Suffering from unbearable pain, I was carried to the hospital just to discover that my bone had fractured into particles of powder. It needed a grafting surgery! My father says I didn’t cry when I was born. Instead, I popped out of the womb with curiosity and a hunger for learning. My eyes glimmered with actions and dreams.

Being hospitalised for 6 months, I was forbidden from going to school, drawing classes or participating in any event.

I spent my days daydreaming if I were in school with my friends. Not being fit to attend classes resulted in my falling grades. For someone who is not used to accepting failure, it’s difficult to gasp in their own performance. I had become a total zombie.

Finding Strength in Stories

Seeing my pathetic situation, my mother decided to portray me some stories of my dad’s childhood. She told me of the days when he was starving and was left homeless. She explained to me how the scarcity of money impacted my dad’s life but also how he overcame his woes. Since then, my dad has always been my role model. I realised that life is never a bed of roses.

The challenges we face are what makes us stronger. The terribly incredible story of my dad inspired me from the bottom of my heart. I was a different person from the very next day. I worked hard and tried my utmost to utilise all the time I had. I discovered my passion for art, music and literature.

Graduating from crayons to markers to coloured pencils, I layered colour upon colour, testing out the effects of different combinations, wondering why the layering of notes in music filled me with the very same happiness.

Turning Pain into Passion

Besides art and music I often inscribed my agonies in the form of poetry which gave me aesthetic pleasure of creation or I watched cartoons with the nurses off duty. The shedding of blood and injections were no longer painful to me. It turned out to be the period of growth of a clumsy girl to a confident and passionate diva.

Days went by like paper in the wind and it was a week before my final exams had to begin. I burnt not only the midnight oil but the early morning oil too.

Sitting on the hospital bed, I poured every concept into my mind’s nooks and crannies. I didn’t leave any stone unturned. After all of it, I was said that I can’t take the exams as my left fibula was operated and there was no way I could reach school without stepping my foot on the ground.

But the passion inside me somehow wanted to prove that i was unstoppable. I convinced my parents to consult with the principal and Voila! There the way was. I reached school by car and appeared all of my exams sitting in the wheelchair. What’s more astonishing was when I happened to be the academic scholar again!

Setbacks and failures are an integral part of life. The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. This happiness of hard-earned achievement was a thousand times sweeter than swallow pleasures of distraction. We must not lose heart and give up hope.

At the end of the day, if we give everything that we have in us, there’s nothing that can stop us. I live for the hope of a day when I can look into my dad’s eyes and see “Look, I made you proud!”

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