The Woven Pieces

Inspirational Stories in English on WordsAllMine 

Synopsis: Inspirational Stories in English. A story of an unfortunate girl who survived an acid-attack. It inspires the unprivileged many to keep moving in life.

I could then hear the sound of footsteps that stopped just near my bed. It was the doctor who said to me stoically, “the left portion of your face is still in critical condition because of the third degree burns. While some damage is on your neck and chest as well”.

The thick cotton rolls that covered my eyes were soaked in tears as he continued, “you won’t be able to see with your left eye. The left ear is also…”

“Open these bandages” I cried out in the deepest agony ever felt.

The doctor started to unwrap the bandages of my face in the presence of my parents. It was as though along with the bandages, the layers of past too had begun to uncover slowly amidst the darkness that my eyes saw…

Nearly 5 months ago, the school day had started on a crispy morning of autumn. But more than the weather that was giving a cold shiver, it was the grueling task that lied ahead of me. And why not, the Annual Science Exhibition of our school had to take place in quite a while.

As the zero hour ticked on, I entered the huge conference hall booked for the exhibition and looked for the name plate which read, ‘Shuvrati Shrivastava, class XII’. I placed my model of diode amplifier just behind it and did all the preparations.  In a while, a swarm of exuberant teachers and students started to emanate and ramble all around the hall.

I saw all the participants got busy in explaining their sophisticated giant models. While on the other hand was mine, a simple miniature circuit consisting of two small LEDs, a battery and a switch. But unlike others, I was most confident about my keen acumen in everything that fell under the realm of Physics. Whenever people arrived at my desk and inquired about the model, I would cheerfully deliver an effortless long spiel that I could continue for hours.

But the sweet spell ended as soon as I got a glimpse of a group of boys in the vicinity. They were the same boys who had disturbed the law and order of the school by their nasty ways of misbehaving with the girls and passing them lewd comments. Still, no action would be taken against them because one of the boys’ father was a strong Political figure. That boy named Abhay who was nothing less than a psychopath would often torture me with his indecent advances.

I averted my gaze from them and continued attending the people at my desk. But in quite some time, I found the iniquitous group having gathered around me. Each one of them feigned impish glee on their monstrous faces.

Despite being ham-fisted Commerce students, they asked me about the project like the overweening connoisseurs of the subject.  Extremely unfitting it was on their part but compelled by a fleeting obligation, I started explaining them in absolutely unperturbed manner.

While I was speaking, Abhay interrupted me and abruptly started telling about his liking for me. Keeping my composure, I tried to make him understand and asked him to leave me alone. But he instead started abusing me, threatening me. His obnoxious words were ripping my spirit yet I stood strong. But the moment when he forcefully grabbed my hand, a kind of uncontrollable raging storm arose inside of me. I receded and slapped him tight on his face.

The hall reverberated with a loud thud which turned all the heads towards us in extreme shock. While in front of me was Abhay’s cold frozen face staring at me with a gaze disastrous enough to move the oceans. But before his wrath could manifest into action, his friends took him away out of the hall…

One week had passed leaving behind a completely changed scenario when girls no more complained of any kind of misbehaviour. Everyone including the teachers appreciated my valor and righteousness. Coincidentally, I was also declared later as the winner of the exhibition contest. This gave me a feeling of pride for not only being a brilliant student but also bringing out a little social change altogether.

Those days, I would follow a short but a deserted route for home in the afternoon. One such day, I increased my pace as I felt being chased by someone. The footsteps behind me got even faster. I was caught by fright and didn’t know what to do. There was no conveyance available in the vicinity, just few pedestrians. I felt a threat. But before I could take an evasive action, three people grabbed me from behind by my arms. I was appalled to find that they were the same despicable boys of my school. One of them gagged my mouth which muffled my screams and the other two clutched both my arms tightly on either side. My bag, scarf, water bottle everything got scattered on the road. I protested to the best of my strength when I saw Abhay appearing in my front. He had a liquor bottle in his hand while his face carried the same demonic wrath like on the day of the exhibition. And then in a split second, my vision got blocked when he opened the bottle and spilled its contents all over my face.

“This is what you deserve,” said Abhay and all four of them fled from the spot at the same time.

There I was lying, squirming and shouting in intolerable pain. My eyes, nose, lips, the entire face appeared to be smouldering in fire. My skin was melting into shreds like a layer of plastic, the thick black fumes of which were choking my own nostrils. My hands and legs were thumping the road against the violent throes of pain. I could feel the crackling of my every living tissue through which the lethal acid travelled. Tearing all my flesh, it felt like seeping all the way deep into my body. There was no way, absolutely no way to escape. My body was converting into ash as the molten tar of my skin began to drip on the road. Death was certain to happen within few seconds. And I eagerly welcomed it because what I was going through was far more painful than death.

While my whole body was convulsing in an inescapable pain, I kept screaming “help me. Please help me, save me”.

I could meekly hear the chaotic noise of people around me. Some were gossiping and some were making videos.  But no one came forth to take me to the hospital while I was writhing in pain, whining for help. They were all gathered only to witness the agony of a girl who has been just attacked with acid.

In not less than two hours of unbridled tossing and turning on the road could I hear a familiar voice, “don’t worry Shuvu! I am here. I will save you. Get up. We are going to the hospital”. It was the voice of my dad. Someone would have been generous enough to inform him indeed. Trying to get up through the pain of millions of needles penetrating my body, I stumbled upon my father. Just as my burnt face pressed against him, an ashy patch was left on his shirt. He broke down in tears. So did I.

Wasting no time, he quickly led me to the ambulance which had just arrived. On the way, I was fainting, blacking out into a subconscious state most of the time. If I intermittently opened my eyes, I could not see anything either. I could not feel any of my facial organs. I could not feel my heartbeat.

This somnolent state was broken by the sudden splashes of water on me one after the other. I must be in the hospital where I was being vaccinated with numerous injections. The scurrying of doctors and nurses here and there kept creating a lot of noise in the background. Midst that noise, I heard the whining of my mom and my other two sisters. Few relatives had gathered too.

The vigorous pain was back. And I started to scream again, craving for the slightest of relief.  I was immediately taken to the operation theatre which made me all the more anxious. But soon, I felt a substantial dizziness taking over slowly sending me into deep sleep.

It has been 5 months from then. Still every single detail has been gouged in my memory forever. After seven subsequent skin grafting and four dermabrasion surgeries, the doctor was undraping the bandages of my face.

Finally as the bandages opened, my parents burst into the most regretful tears I could ever witness. The doctor proffered a mirror to me which I held feebly with shivering hands. Against the complete loss of hope, it was extremely difficult to muster the courage to accept the reality before I could see it in the mirror.

The reflection was that of a stranger, an ugly girl with a ravaged face. It was half-scalded with a diminished left eye and ear that had shrunken to the size of a peanut. The hair had disappeared all around the forehead. The nose appeared like a wrinkled heap of thick brown mass adhering to the skin while the lips were nothing but a grotesque crooked structure protruding out of the skin. The face I was born with had been disfigured permanently. Not only that, my whole body had become extremely frail and thin due to subsequent surgeries and regular dosage of heavy medicines.

“Is it me? I questioned the mirror which had always shown me the reflection of a beautiful girl steeped in the dreams of her future. It had always shown the reflection of a person studying hard to become a scientist and make her parents feel proud with her feats.

On the contrary, I found my parents in enormous grief. Deep inside I knew well that it was not just sorrow, but despair for having spent all the money they had saved, it was worry about my marriage and my sisters’ future. And most importantly, it was shame for regularly being humiliated by this insular society.

Everyday, I would ask the significance of my useless existence to the mirror. Not that I got an answer, but the same question started rolling off the tongue of the people who would bombard my family with pitiful words.

My mom barely talked to me during the last 5 months of my treatment. But her sorrowful eyes which avoided looking at me gave me an answer. I am just a burden who they are carrying out of mere responsibility. Removing the scarf which my mom wrapped around me, I faced the mirror again which told me that my once beautiful face is now just  a source of embarrassment, shame and hatred.

That day, looking at my mom made me guilty to have survived the attack. I heard an inner voice which was calling me on the path of redemption. I felt that it is better to free your soul than to let it rot in an unwanted body. It was the time to quit.

I bade a silent bye to everyone & everything around and savoured the vision of my mother who was helping the nurse with my dressing. The moment they both went away, I got off the bed. My whole body ached with tremendous pain in the process as I staggered to the balcony. I looked down. The cemented pavement six stories below was inviting me to jump and end my persistent pain and suffering forever. I closed my eyes and said words of gratitude to the God for everything he gave me during the span of 17 years.

Just when I was gathering my final moments, someone pulled my arm and held me in a tight hug. It was my dad who saved me once again just like before.

I was sobbing in his warm embrace when he said in a tone of anger, “So you decided not to fight anymore and escape like a coward! Where is my brave Shuvu who could never give up in the worst of situations? This was not expected from you my little angel.”

“I love you all so much.” I said while my throat was choked. “I wanted to do big things in life. So many ambitions and expectations. But this is where my life just brought me without my choice… What could I do pa?”

He remained silent for sometime but what he said next was something that I can’t ever forget in my entire life.

“My child! Always remember that

“There is no such thing as pre-planned. Life is an exam where the syllabus is unknown and question papers are not set. It is only your decision that makes you either pass or fail.” 

Giving you this situation, the Almighty wants to see what you do about it; cower like a no one or stand out like a change maker.”

That day, my dad’s guiding words showed me a path as if a ship stuck in the stormy ocean got the right direction.

I repeated the gratitude prayer which I recited moments ago, but this time I instead thanked God for the scars which I would not accept as my weakness but a reminder of perseverance and courage. I decided to fight against the system where the criminal returns to a normal life within a few months while the sufferer gets injustice in every sphere of the society. I resolved to raise my voice against this crime which demands a severe punishment to be enforced by law so that no one dares to even think of ruining the identity of any girl.

In six months, as soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I started going to the school again. It was the same school, same students and teachers but rest everything had changed for me. All my friends would now avoid my company, people would look down upon me with strange curious looks. Some would feign pity, some hatred, while some would even make fun of me.

Nevertheless, I felt the fresh summer breeze caressing my face as I opened the book, ‘Law and Justice’, a new subject that I resolved to read. With a small step though, my journey against the atrocious crime of acid attack had just begun.

But this time, my miniature circuit would not only defeat the giant models of the society but, it would bloom into much bigger form, a revolution…

Writer’s Note:

This story is inspired by the lives of few acid attacked women who told me how they lost their face, their identity, their social status and much more because of the heinous crime inflicted on them. The events and names of the people are kept fictional so as not to point at an individual in particular.

‘The Woven Pieces’ is a story from my heart as a tribute to all innocent acid attack survivors, a message to the society to bestow a fair treatment on the victims  and an appeal to legislative bodies to strengthen the laws against such heinous crimes until they get completely eliminated.

Want to read similar topic (Inspirational Stories in English)? Go to Story: The Restraint

Read Inspirational Stories in English at Stories

Join me on my facebook page