To All The Broken And Unbroken Women, I See Your Scars, They’re Beautiful!

It’s been a good five years since I wrote for Women’s Web. But somehow, even as the community has grown exponentially, like a childhood home that suddenly seems to have grown smaller when you go back to your home land, everything feels smaller, tighter, like a sweater that overstayed its welcome in the dryer.

My throat’s dry, like it always is before a speech onstage, my stomach’s in knots, my palms sweating profusely as I type word after word. Do you still remember me, Women’s Web?

I remember writing piece after piece every month, the letters on my typewriter fading out, my fingers numb, the only best friend I had back then, was you, reader. Do you remember me, like I do, you?

It’s been ages since I was that little girl now. Winning the Orange flower award for Creative Writing in 2018 was my final swan song before I admitted that I was officially out of songs to sing.

You see, I entered this platform as a child. I left when I was on the cusp of growing up
“So what are you now?” You may ask.
“I do not know,” would be my most honest answer.Am I older? Of course.
Wiser? I wouldn’t bet on it. *laughs*
Let’s just say, this is the writer after the breaking.

Life is strange. We float detesting air, to only sink. We sink to only realise all the air we filled our lungs with was all the life we took for granted. And then we talk about greener opposite shores whilst our own grass lies under our feet, wilting and unwatered.

A few days ago, I happened to read a piece I’d written when I was in the process of being broken, cell by cell. A reader called me “strong” for surviving storm after storm.

Never miss real stories from India's women.

Register Now

It broke my heart to know that women have to weather storms and eat so much pain for breakfast, lunch and dinner in order to be called strong.

It’s not fair, I told myself. None of this is. All the pain just so you can be called strong should you survive the crushing.

But I want to tell you, dear reader, that this is also the writer after the unbreaking. I’ve learnt the art of Kintsugi.

My broken pottery looks so much better when it has been fixed with gold. All the golden lines that run across my surface, they once were scars. And now, my scars are all testaments to the fact that I lived, I survived, I thrived.

So now that I can breathe again, dear reader, I think it is time to fly. My wings are just sprouting. After all the breaking and unbreaking, the world looks like it has been washed and cleaned, 4K vision if you will, for someone who’s been half-blind so long!

What do you think?
What have you been doing whilst I was away?
Was I missed as much as you’ve been telling me my words were?

Connect with me on Instagram, I’d love to hear from you. 🙂

Here’s to all the broken, unbroken, and ready-to-fly young women out there: I see your scars. They’re beautiful.

Image credit: IMDb, Screen grab of Alia Bhatt in Highway 

Comments