Story Writing Competition...*Results Link: 48* - Page 4

 That was the first time I realized that something is wrong. I was 9 years of age. I still remember that afternoon very clearly. It was the recess time and as usual the school playground was crowded with children and the air was filled with there laughs. In one corner me and my classmates were also sitting, having fun?.making fun. The hi-fives exchanges and the loud laughter made no one notice the tiny tears forming in my eyes. That afternoon they all had great time, making fun of my dark complexion, my hands and face?making fun of me. They all were enjoying very much, and then the recess time finished and we all headed towards our classes. They all had a great time, not realizing that they ruined someone's life for their half-an hour's lesuire.

 Today, even after 10 years I have not moved out of that awkwardness and embarrassment. Their voices and laughs still echo in my mind. Those mean laughs still fill my eyes with tears, and I cry my heart out.

 But if I think carefully than in a way they all did me a favour. If that day they would not have pointed, then someone else, later in my life would have pointed out this thing. I wonder how I would have reacted, but that day a 9 years old girl was made strong enough to face mocking of her complexion. That day I learnt to control my tears and force a smile, and I am practicing this skill since 10 years and I have become quite expert. I have built that shield so strong that nobody knows the real me.

 It is not that I am ungrateful. I thank God that I am not handicapped, I have a very loving family, stable financial condition. I thank God from the depth of my heart, but what do I do?this one shortcoming of me doesn't lets me look at the blessings I have.

 For the world today I am a 19 year old young, confident girl, who studies in the city's best college, has a perfect family, extremely loving parents, a dream academic career, strong financial background, who goes abroad for vacations, a modern girl, who is not affected by all these physical appearances, but no one realizes that I do get hurt, I do cry, I do realize.

 I read the mocking in everybody's eyes, I hear the giggles when I try to apply make up. My mother doesn't knows that I heard her saying to my grand mother in a help less voice that "main kia karon, ye achi lagti hi nai hai" . I understand the eye signals my class mates send to each other. It hurts how always my classmates start the stories of boys running behind their beauty in front of me. I know why does my aunt again and again emphasizes about her daughter's engagement, who is younger than me. I understand the scrutinizing eyes of people when I enter a function, noticing the little attempts I make to look good. I know the constant efforts my mother makes to make me look good.

 I realize that I lack something. I realize that I am not beautiful

 I realize that I am..not fair.