A painful choice

                                     

Pallavi

I gritted by teeth and bit back the pain as the needle pierced my skin. The pain lasted only a moment and it was done. There, one small pierce on my nose. And that's done. I am now the proud owner of a shiny new nose pin on my not-so-perfect nose. Not that it bothered me. I love my imperfections, after all, they have made me who I am today. Unruly hair, a whim of the moment mix and match tops with faded jeans, a body that can neither be described as too thin nor too fat. I loved it all. Yes, you heard that right.

 I love myself. The way I am. 

My life was far from perfect. Shrinks would have a ball had I visited them and let them see those dark secrets that are woven into my very being. But I have never visited them. Like I said, I have never wanted to. I like me the way I am. But the pain was always there. Since the time I could remember. A deep, dull ache. Sometimes, the smallest of things would make me into a self pitying sobbing creature, that I despised. But thankfully, those relapses were few. At other times, merely trivial things, like a bird chirping or the feel of a light breeze before the rains, would make my heart soar with happiness. 

Perhaps it was to mask some of that pain that I started hurting myself. The first time it happened was an accident. A mistake due to my clumsiness. A knife held carelessly. Blood oozed from my fingers. I was fascinated. The pain numbed me. The dull ache in me moved way for the physical angst that I was facing. 

And so it began. But I found out that hurting myself always was not a choice. For one, I did not want to end up as the girl who was covered in scars. Not that I did mind it or cared what people thought, but it just didn't appeal to me then.

That was when I discovered the magic of piercings and tattoos. The pain was instant. And it took a while to heal. But that was enough. For now. 

I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. Four tattoos, one on my left wrist, one on my left ankle, one behind my neck and another just below my collarbone starting near my left breast. Four ear piercings on each ear. And now, sitting there elegantly on my nose, my joy and pride. 

A nose piercing was what he had hated the most. He had forbidden me from piercing my nose. He had chained me to him with his pain. In the beginning, he had wanted my pain. And I let him. Until the day I finally decided to break free. I knew that I would treasure this piercing more than the others. For me, it symbolizes freedom and healing. It is me. 

Grabbing my scarf around my neck and paying the woman at the beauty parlor who did my piercing, I stepped out into the pouring rain outside. 

Sid

I watched her come outside from the beauty parlor and waved to her. It took her a while to see me, due to the heavy down pour. Being the aloof person she is, I had not expected her to even acknowledge my presence. Though we worked in the same department at office, she barely spoke to anyone. My friends often made fun of me, that I was wasting my time just drooling behind her. 

But she was more than a crush. Pallavi. Her name rolls on my lips like a lazy slumber. Pallavi. An enigma and my biggest mystery. What I noticed first when she joined our office two years back was not her piercings or her inked skin. It was her eyes. They were like two pools of deep dark waters that was undisturbed. 

She never came for any social gatherings or the monthly parties, that was the rave of our advertising company. She never made small talk or friends. If anything, all she gained was sniggers behind her back and jealousy of our colleagues. She was called a messed up basket case. And if she came to know about the names assigned to her, she did not act on it, or chose to ignore it. It was like nothing ever bothered her. Her work was brilliant. Being an advertising company, her creatives were priceless. It was like she gave it her all for art.

Pallavi. Art lover. Tattoo lover. Woman. Child. Broken. She was all that and more for me. 

As she came towards me drenched in rain near the parlor on MG Road, my heart soared. Something in her had changed. The haunted look in her eyes were gone. She spotted a small diamond pin on her nose. Was that a ghost of a smile that I saw flickering on her lips? 

Do you need a lift? Autos would be difficult to get at this time, I said.  

She said nothing, but merely climbed behind my bike and held me tight. And just like that, she was mine as we drove on MG Road as the thunder, rain and lightening folded us into its embrace.  

                                     (Images courtesy: Google, as always)