My Dot
I am happy the way I am. I will not let others decide how I should look or appear.
"Badi mushkil baba badi mushkil
Gore gore gaalon pe hai kaala kaala til" ~ a song from the movie Lajja, (a 2001 Bollywood drama) in which Madhuri Dixit had performed.
I am a big fan of Madhuri Dixit. Her distinctive dance moves and animated expressions seriously make many skip a heartbeat. This song from the movie Lajja, is even more special. Because there’s Me in it somewhere.
Well, that’s the dramatic start that my dot had! Adorable, in the eyes of the happiest parents on earth. By the way, I was oblivious to all the hullabaloo that I caused. The time was for joy and feeds, snoozing and sleeping, and the likes.
As years passed, I grew and so did my dot. It changed colour, position, and in no time, it became a black mark. An obvious part of my reflection. Easily the dot became a part of me. Or did I become a part of the dot?
"Oh, just get it removed...a small surgery…it’s ruining her gorgeous face!" was the frequent and unsolicited medical advice from my second aunt’s mother-in-law’s cousin.
"When did this grow?" enquired my swimming coach.
"A dot on the right cheek is an angel’s kiss and a prince will fall for it soon," mentioned my then-teenager friend. That’s one time the dot bloomed with its new brown blush. I couldn’t believe it could actually intervene in my love lines!
"Is it a birthmark?" was the most oft-repeated question. Had I taken a commission to answer this probe, I would have actually got pretty rich!
Many more such words within inverted commas followed.
Though I hated these queries and counsels of the Pinocchios of the society, deep inside, one stray comment lingered somewhere. Yes, you got it right. I had an angel’s kiss. All I needed was the Prince Charming. After all, her romance will bloom - is all a teenager would love to believe.
The older I grew, the bolder it became. What I was hoping for didn’t bloom, but a few thick hair strands did blossom on my dark land. Every parlour trip for getting my eyebrows done or legs waxed, the 3-4 thick hairs from my ‘spot’, as Sheldon would address it, I suppose, needed to be removed too. Surprisingly, the most annoying hairs from my body were taken care of, absolutely free!
Anyway. Not that I waited, but just to let you know...no ‘knight in shining armour’ came my way. Soon I became a part of the "arranged marriage" system. The protocol dictated me to have a photograph clicked by a professional. "You know about advanced medical science, right? Anyway, darling, turn your head a little bit towards the right…perfect!" proposed the photographer.
"When they come to see you, sit to their left. They shouldn’t be blaming us once the wedding date is finalized", was the prompt recommendation of my eldest cousin. She had insisted on accompanying me to the epic task. Yes, I paid my photographer and not my cousin to get the most soul-searching advice, as if. Just rolled my eyes and walked out of the studio.
The dot is an ordinary part of me, just like my right cheek. A number of speckles to hold and smile through them. I am as comfortable with it as I am with my nose, eyes, ears or mouth. I love my reflection. Of course, I know that there is enough room for improvement! Nonetheless, I refuse to become a victim of body-shaming. Or let others decide how I should look or appear. I am happy with the way I am.
So is my mother. She always took pride in my dot. "My little jewel, you will never be lost", she declared affectionately. "Your birthmark will always lead me to you." And I’m sure it would have if only I had unleashed my adventurous side. Just to give my bold and beautiful dot a chance!
By: Joyeeta Mukherjee and Promita Banerjee Nag
Disclaimer:
This article and the opinions expressed in it are personal opinions. It is not meant for imposing specific views or endorsing a particular way of life. Also please do ignore any errors or omissions that you might come across. We pledge to learn from them. Happy viewing.
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