Hopeless- A short story

There was a girl- a girl who existed. She had wonderful parents, ones who spent quality time with her as she grew up. But, they never understood that it was their time she needed, “quality time’ meant nothing to her.

A year into her life, she had another companion for her, a sweet little angel-like sister, and trust me, her first memories of cuddling her newborn sister were the happiest thoughts that she was able to remember, in her 17 year old life. But sadly, her sister grew up to be very different from her, a beautiful pampered little creature, who didn’t care for her elder sister. In fact, she was ashamed of her elder sister and often in the school bus, and birthday parties she told other 6 year olds that the girl standing in the corner wasn’t actually her real sister; only an adopted one (picking up the story from a soap opera which she used to watch with her nanny). The girl was aware of it, but still, she adored her kid sister to no end; always doing her homework for her and getting her school projects ready.

She always wanted to be like her little sister, beautiful, famous and admired. No, she wasn’t jealous; she just wanted to be like her, to be with her. Her parents were too busy in their worlds to think about them and by the time she was 12, her dad decided to pack her off to another school.

It was not much of a problem for her, for she hardly had any friends in her own school, but the only issue she had was leaving her sister behind. But, her sister was anything but happy to get rid of her, to be alone. To be free from the burden of a useless elder sister.

The girl moved on to her new school. Here, nobody knew her, and the prejudice she had faced all her life was suddenly gone. She wasn’t anybody’s failure-elder sister here, she was just another newcomer girl. And they for once started loving her.

She was good at writing and soon found herself in the literary club, and got published in her school magazine. She was still an introvert and one fine day in her English class, her teacher decided to pick her up.

‘Recite the poem on page 35’, he said.

The girl was hesitant. She stood up, and when she finished, her whole class was in awe. For, she had captivated everyone with her voice. That year, she was nominated for the cluster level debates and then moved on to the nationals. And it was here that she faced her greatest fear , of facing her sister. The ultimate idol, the one who had hated her all her life.

She wasn’t afraid of losing, for she was sure that she would, but she was afraid of embarrassing her sister again. The inferiority complex was crippling her ,and she almost made up her mind to quit. But then, something strange happened.

She saw a pair of eyes looking straight at her; eyes pleading her to give it a try, one last time. With tears in her eyes, she turned away from the mirror and walked up to the stage. She didn’t wait for the results to be declared, for she was sure, that she had proved herself useless again.

She hated herself for embarrassing her sister, her family. Crying, she ran into the wash room, closing the door behind her. The mirror reflected her weeping self, her loser self and the thing she was ashamed of- her scarred face. The scar which made her such a loser, the scar which made her sister hate her. The scar which has scarred her life, her dreams, her heart. She was angry.

Back to the past

She remembered the day so well. It was a rainy morning when she and her sister were ferried off to school in a cycle rickshaw. She was 5 years old back then, in kindergarten and her sister, 4, was still a playschool kid. Playfully, the younger sister had started dancing, edging towards a heap of stones. And in order to save her from tumbling over, she had jumped in. She had taken the fall instead. And her face, was marred for life. More than that, it scarred her life.

‘Shreya Sahay’ her name boomed on the microphone, bringing her back into senses; or whatever that was left of it anyway. ‘Shreya sahay, our new national champion!’ But our girl sat there, lifeless and numb on the washroom floor. The floor was red. Her wrists, slashed. It took another scar on her wrist to wipe away that scar on her face.