It's hidden within me

It's hidden within me

A Story by Nishita
"

The reality

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I wonder who ever created the word 'beauty'. Why are people even born in different ways? What constantly gets me wondering is that, why are people praised for what is not their achievement? People are born the way they are because of their genes. People are not the creative architects of their looks that they should be appreciated for.
It's not like I'm a dwarf, but I am short. I am not the average height that a normal girl is. You would not consider categorizing me into ugly but you would not put me into the group of beautiful either. I am just an average looking person. In the world of cruelty, discrimination, rasicm and living among the eyes which are thirsty for beauty, I do not have a secure place. I am not aware of how many of you reading this have gone through what I have, but what I went through and what I go through till date, cannot be termed as good.
It all started at the place which we consider the most secure in this world- home. I was never really bothered about the way I looked until things took a turn in life and all of a sudden, people around me changed. It was my very own dad who invoked the thoughts in me that I wasn't beautiful. My mom found joy in joining him. I've heard a million insults from my dad every single day. His words haunt me even today. I was never tall enough for him, nor was I ever fair enough. I wasn't slim enough and I wasn't anything that he expected out of his daughter. More than anything else, it was my height which affected me the most and brings tears to my eyes till date. He made me exercise day and night in spite of being aware of the fact that my looks were dependent on none other than my parents. Upon not receiving the desired results, I was blamed and punished for not working hard enough. While others were compared with their friends in the field of education, I was compared for my looks. The worst thing was that, it was not just my family who changed, but even the people around me. My looks were never commented upon until I was around 10 years old. It was then that I developed what isn't cured till now - inferiority complex. As I started being labelled as short, dark and fat, I started hating myself for the way I looked. It was my dad who made me feel it was my mistake to be short. While every parent loves their child for the way they are, my family proved to be different. I do not know what joy they found in insulting their own creation. While every child is taught to accept themselves the way they are, I was taught to feel guilty for the way I was. Not a single day passed without insulting me.
Keeping aside my family, I wasn't happy to find out that the world was no different. I was called short everywhere I went. Eight long years and it still hasn't stopped. My self- confidence lies in my heels. My very own friends stand beside me to look down at how short I am compared to them with a wicked joy of 'achievement'. I am asked why I am short as though it is my mistake. I seldom or I would rather say that I never step out of the house, without feeling like the odd one out among all. I am often adviced to concentrate on things which matter more than looks, like my studies. I am told that ultimately it is my knowledge which shall matter but least do they understand that it is the physical appearance which is seen first and not the intelligence which lies within us. No one can ever deny the fact that a person is judged by their looks the first time they see them.
After all that I have faced, what I have truly learnt is that looks are not an achievement, and since it's not, we do not have any right to insult anyone about it. I can never really accept myself the way I am but I can definitely respect others for the way they are...

© 2017 Nishita


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Added on December 27, 2017
Last Updated on December 27, 2017

Author

Nishita
Nishita

Bangalore , India



About
Hi! This is Nishita here from Bangalore, India. I love dancing, acting and literature. A student and an aspiring actress... That's me! more..

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A Story by Nishita