The Scar

“When Neel comes for vacation, I will inflict a similar wound on his face,” Sagar fumed.

With apprehension, Sarita gazed at her twelve-year-old son.

It was almost a year after the incident, but the scar on Sagar’s right cheek was a permanent reminder of that fateful day. The incident had left a deep emotional scar as well, and Sagar found it hard to forgive Neel for what had happened.

The boys in the colony were playing Gilli Danda, a traditional Indian game played with two wooden sticks. The longer one called the Danda was used to hit the smaller one, the Gilli. The distance the Gilli fell at decided the winner.

Neel, a year older than Sagar, struck the Gilli hard with the Danda in a desperate attempt to break the record of another playmate. In a shocking turn of events, Sagar, who was awaiting his turn nearby, got badly hit on his cheek by the flying Gilli.

Neel cringed as he saw blood oozing from Sagar’s face.  Neel’s mother came running and pleaded for Sarita’s pardon for the mishap. Sarita was relieved that Sagar’s eye was unaffected and brushed it off, knowing it was an unintentional accident.

Neel’s family soon left the place upon his father’s transfer.

Sarita sat beside her son and ruffled his hair to soothe him.  “Tell me what happened. Did someone make fun of your scar in the school today?”

Wiping his misty eyes, Sagar said, “There was a play staged today on the occasion of Children’s Day. I was initially not in the play. Nilesh was supposed to be a servant in Shiraj’s house, who played an arrogant businessman. Due to a viral infection, Nilesh could not come to school today. The teacher asked me to play the role since Nilesh’s costumes fitted me.”

“But you had not rehearsed,” Sarita asked.

“The role involved no dialogues. All I had to do was to get a cup of tea for the master, then accidentally topple and drop it over him. The master would scream at me, and ruthlessly punish me. After some scenes where the master similarly falls, the play ends by saying that one should not belittle others.”

“How does your scar feature here for you to get upset?” Sarita needed clarification.

“Shiraj made his own dialogue after I dropped the tea. He said, ‘I do not want to hit you on your cheek; you already have a scar.’ It is all because of Neel.”

At that moment, Sarita’s phone buzzed. She couldn’t contain her excitement hearing what the other person said.

“That was your teacher. The chief guest, a film director, has chosen you as a child artist in his next film to play the younger version of the hero who struggles due to a scar on his face induced by a tyrannical father. The director was impressed with your mute expressions when Shiraj guffawed at you.”

 The scar had, after all, proven to be good.

Sudha Viswanath