I aspire to be a "Woman of Substance"

“We are each the authors of our own lives, Emma. We live in what we have created. There is no way to shift the blame and no one else to accept the accolades” 
― Barbara Taylor Bradford, A Woman of Substance

 

As I read through these lines, my heart made me ponder, and I wondered where my life is heading. Sitting in a hospital bed, casted from toe to waist in cruel, stiff plasters, one palm folded into a fist and tied in a tight bandage, and the head wrapped in a white cotton bandage with stiffness at one side. “Am I an author of my own life”? I asked myself.

Am I living in what I created? Did I create this? I asked myself, watching the ants march outside the window. At that time, my plaster or the ants attacking a bowl of sugar candies did not bother me much as this question. I was a road accident victim, struggling to piece up my shattered life, which I have not written probably, but living definitely.

So what if I have not authored it yet? I will now charter my life in a way I would like it to be. If nothing, let me be strong enough to lead on my own terms, some ways at least. So tomorrow, before I ask my life what you have given me, my life should have a better answer for what this woman is doing for it.

I called up my doctor and asked when I can start walking. When are they going to make me stand? Are they honest enough every time they tell me I can walk again, or are they just pacifying me only to go behind closed doors and tell my parents in a hush-hush tone that I may not be able to lead a normal life again?

The doctor told me that I can walk. We are awaiting my bones to recover from a cruel compound fracture. For that, I need to start eating well, and it’s just a matter of time before they will start the trial. “How about the artificial foot? You said you will get me one, and then I can walk,” I asked. “Friend, your residual limb is weak, it has got multiple fractures, and you are just healing from a plastic surgery; we cannot risk you at this moment”, he said.

“But when is the right time, doctor?” I asked. “I have been confined to bed for almost 2 months now. I have forgotten what walking is”. I want to stand, stand on my own feet, and I really hate those who come and tell me that I am gone for life. I want to run away from them”.

And I did. Soon, doctors found a solution to kick-start my re-walking process. It was tough and strength curdling, esp at the age of 12-13 years, I must tell. But if I haven’t tried then, if I didn’t charter on that path then, trust me, I could have never done it. We become strongest in the face of adversity. It’s in pain that we are closest to god, and he whispers into our ears- his wisdom. I took an oath that I am still trying to live by

1.     I will be independent, not letting disability stop me or gain me favours.

2.     Win people with deeds and sincerity and no pretence. Abhor anyone who sympathises but delights who encourage.

3.     Would not let gender come between my ambitions, goals & values.

4.     Strive to be a woman of substance.

Yes, ostracism did not spare me either. It came, and it continues to come in varied formats. It shook me, continues to shake me, but couldn't stir me, dissolving into self.

I took inspiration from different things like ants who persist till the last cube of sugar, the bird who pushes her kids to fly, the woman who scaled the mountain, Maya Angelou's poems and above all, my God. I suffered ostracism silently, sometimes I made noise too and often I fought back. I cried in seclusion only to gather my strength & fight back. Yes, I have become a fighter; I fought for a cause where I saw disconnects. I risked my “loving and everybody’s favourite” repute to “ferocious independent thinking” women, but I never left what I continued to believe- trying to be a woman of substance. I hold close to my integrity as I hold my broken foot and continue walking.

I was 12 then, and today I am 32. Life has seen many struggles, and it still does so. I live alone, far away from my family, in cities across India where the most able females have been forced to go and live. I dared to step in men's world, a domain without taking any undue advantage, and worked shoulder to shoulder to prove merit.

There were times when people left me and moved ahead. They would make faces seeing my shoes, crutch, sound of the artificial limb. Some would avoid eye contact, so I do not ask them to include me in their group for lunch or a movie. A lot of these people would come knocking on my door at night before exams, asking for my help so that they can score passing marks. I have left my studies to address their worries, helped them prepare, but the next day, they will flee away.

Yes, I made mistakes, and I continue to make them. I, however, try not to repeat them but learn from them.

I remember those times when my doctors would take me around to other patients and ask me to talk to them, encourage them and a term they coined- spread an infectious smile. That boosted my motivations further.

I am not sure whether I can be called “woman of substance”, as that is a very big honour. But I often ask myself- Am I a woman of substance, and how can I become one? Welcome life. I am trying and striving to be a Woman of substance.

Do read- Privatising Your Truth

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