My name is Laila Khanna. I have fallen victim to peer pressure. I have fallen into a tangled web of lies. I have fallen under the influence of alcohol. I have fallen in the eyes of my parents. I have fallen in life, and this is my story…
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I was born in the small town of Darjeeling, to a lovely honest set of parents. We were a middle class family, and therefore never had the money to waste. But that did not stop me from having the best, happiest childhood, a girl could ask for.
But after I entered my teen years, my life changed, drastically. My father had to change cities for a better job. So from picturesque Darjeeling we came to the chaotic metropolitan city of Mumbai. From an all-girl’s convent school, I joined a prestigious co-ed school.
I had never had the experience of talking or interacting with the male gender if they weren’t part of my family and definitely never had the experience of mingling with materialistic, snobbish girls.
In this high- school, nobody discussed the book they recently read or their previous night’s meal. My fellow students discussed their Facebook newsfeeds, the latest gadgets, the best fashion brands and hot and spicy gossip. And naïve little Laila Khanna got pulled into the vast ocean of frivolity.
I got scorned for not having a Facebook Id, got scorned for not having a phone and basically not being ‘hep and happening’. And my 8th grade went by miserably. I was a social recluse.
So when 9th grade stared me in the face; I was ready to face it head-on. I got a Facebook, twitter and MySpace account. I had forced my dad to buy me a phone , a laptop, branded clothes, shoes and accessories, not caring if my dad could afford it or not.
Peer pressure had manacled me and I fell victim to it, without putting up a fight.
I walked into school, my head held high, reeking over-confidence. People turned their heads to look at me. And by lunch I had attracted enough attention to be able to hang around the popular gang.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” asked Aisha, a rich, spoilt, brat. I didn’t, yet I found myself nodding in assent very casually.
“Really?” she asked incredulously. Everybody’s head had turned to me with interest.
“Yes. His name is Rohan.” I said, taking of my favourite cousin’s name. They didn’t know Rohan was my cousin;’ might as well tell a teeny- tiny lie’, I thought to myself. And that was the beginning of my downfall.
I was the new popular girl in school. Rohan, as much as he disapproved, was part of my lie. Photos of the two of us went onto Facebook. I got invited to parties and hangouts and always went in Prada or Gucci.
My father couldn’t afford a party for me, for my birthday, so I told everyone that he was taking me to France and the lies continued, and before I knew it , they had spun a web for me and I was stuck.
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When a person lies and lives under pretences; life becomes tough. There comes a point when you can no longer handle it.
There is a huge burden on your shoulders and a weight in your heart. Even your breathing starts becoming constricted.
Rocketing off the fame or popularity you get out of a lie, wears off and before you know it you’re falling into a deep chasm of hopelessness; from which you can never crawl out…..
…….because people will only believe you for some time
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Peer pressure forces you into being someone you’re not.”
I used to be a happy, carefree girl, who didn’t care about what the world had to say about me. I loved dancing and singing. I used to ace my exams. I used to wear comfortable clothes and shoes and always defended my family.
But peer-pressure made me conscious of what I wore ate and of whom I was. I stopped defending my family. If my so called ‘friends’ publicly bad mouthed my parents, I would agree. I started failing tests and had given up my passion for music simply because I didn’t have time for it for I was too busy holding up a reputation.
And peer pressure didn’t leave me after school either. It followed me to college like a lovesick puppy.
College was ten times worse than school. I had always been comfortable with the way I looked. But my mirror had started telling me that I was ugly, my body started seeming too fat. I cut down my food to the point where I was hardly eating.
My parents noticed this and forced me to eat, so I ate to please them and then vomited out the food in the toilet. I started looking gaunt and became anorexic. But I didn’t care; I was thin, and that’s all that mattered.
Then I went to a party in college. There was alcohol and drugs getting passed around, but I simply refused when I was offered. I might have fallen in life and hit my head, maybe once or twice, but I hadn’t hit it hard enough to forget that alcohol and drugs were life consuming.
But there I could see people scorning me, telling me I wasn’t cool enough and I fell for peer pressure once more and I drank till I was reeking of alcohol and had no sense of my surroundings.
And that was when everything went downhill……..
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My mom and dad had figured that something was wrong with me, from 9th grade itself; they just couldn’t point a finger on what it was. Seeing me anorexic proved some of their suspicions. And after my 12th, they knew something was horribly wrong with their daughter.
That was when I turned up on their doorstep, stone drunk, giggling like a retard, blubbering out the entire truth.
That night I fell in the eyes of my parents……..
I was thrown out of my house; my parents disowned me.
My father said to me, “if you are so ashamed of your family that you are forced to lie about it; you can leave. Because we don’t want you living in embarrassment.”
I had nowhere to go. I wasn’t even legally allowed to live on my own. All my so- called ‘friends’ slammed the door on my face, when I asked them to give me a place to stay. Even my boyfriend dumped me.
That was when I realized that those people that cannot accept for who you are, with all your flaws are people that are definitely not worth it.
And I had fallen in life, because of people like that. I had fallen so hard that I never thought that I could pick myself up again.
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Rohan helped me yet again being the perfect elder brother. He picked me up from Mumbai and took me to his apartment in New York. He paid for my therapy, but nothing seemed to be working.
But one day I met someone who opened my eyes and helped me put my sorry excuse of a life, back together.
I wish I could write some romantic cliché, like I met this amazing guy, who in spite of everything, fell in love with me, and helped me through this phase. We got married a few years down the line, had two kids and lived happily ever after. But, I can’t. It was actually an eight year old boy that I met in central park.
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I was sitting dejectedly on a bench when he came running up to me, an adorable little fellow with messy black hair and big brown eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s wrong to lie.” And that was the first lesson he taught me.
The little boy was an orphan, named Fred and had come to the park for a picnic, with the other kids. He had a charm that attracted me to him, like honey would bees. He might not have had parents, a perfect family, perfect schooling, the love or attention, he so rightfully deserved, yet he was so happy. I fell under this charm and found myself smiling the first real smile in years, as I watched him play.
I spent as much time as I could with Freddie, and learned to love him, not realizing that every moment I spent in his company I was coming closer to the girl I used to know.
I started looking healthy again; moreover I started looking happy again. I even opened the little box in my head and heat where I had locked up my passion for music. I danced with Freddie, I sang to Freddie and I had never been happier or more myself.
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When I walked out of a company, after being rejected a job, one day, I heard someone say,” What a fat, ugly, loser!” I burst into tears all my previous insecurities crashing down on me as I ran to the orphanage.
When Freddie saw me, his little brow furrowed in worry, and when he asked what was wrong, I told him everything, even though I knew that he probably wouldn’t understand anything.
“Nobody cares!” I finished with a sigh.
“I care Lulu. I love you.”
“How can you love me? Just look at me, I’m a fat, ugly, liar. My hair never sits straight, my eyes are the colour of poop, I have an abnormally large nose, slight buckteeth, a fat stomach, fat thighs and even my parents don’t love me anymore. I’m hopeless. I have no roof over my head, no money in my pocket, no proper education, no friends and no family.” I sobbed.
“You’re not ugly, fat or a liar. You might have lied before but you stopped now. You have very pretty eyes and a pretty smile. You are not fat, Sister Clara is. And you can sing, dance and be amazing so I don’t see why I shouldn’t love you. Most of all you are you, and I will not have anyone else, be they better or be they worse.” He said defiantly, his little chin quivering and sincerity shining in his big brown eyes.
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That was what did it for me. That was what provided me with the drive to do things right; to fix my life.
I apologized to my parents for lying and they forgave me almost instantly, welcoming me back with open arms. I realized that family never gives up on you; it’s you that has to be willing to hold on.
I moved out of rohan’s house and moved into my own, working as a waitress for some time, to earn money for my college fee.
I did a major in music, dance and journalism. At university, I met a guy who loved me for who I was and not for whom I pretended to be. We got married four years after graduation.
You might ask, what happed t o little Freddie? Well I couldn’t live without my personal ray of sunshine, so I adopted him. Today I’m happy, successful and moreover I am myself.
And the reason I penned down my life is to show you youngsters what happens in the real world. There are a million people trying to bring you down. But you have to be strong enough to fight the things, which are trying their utmost hardest to make you fall. And you have to be confident enough about yourself, because only when you learn to accept yourself the way you are will people accept you for who you are.
And if like me, you do fall, I want you to know that all is not lost. It’s never too late to fix things.
Because after all is said and done, your strength of character is not determined by the number of times you’ve fallen in life, but is determined by the number of times you stoop down, picked up the broken pieces and moved on.
THE END.
