A Selfie Please

 To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become a presence, means accepting the risk of absence.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

 Sagar stood aloof as the kith and kin of the bride and groom were ushered towards the main building. Group photographs were being taken after the wedding ceremony. There were kids, adults, parents, uncles, aunts and so many more, in all they were around forty to fifty people. The photographer took pains to coordinate them  in the most suitable manner so that each one looked his best and was visible. As soon as he clicked the photograph, a few enthusiastic adults and children ran to him and peered into the digital camera, they approved the photograph and went for the next one. A little later the young ones raised their mobile phone with an extended stick called the selfie stick and smiled to click a selfie. A  Selfie is a self portrait typically taken with a digital camera or smartphone and shared via social media.  Who does not love being pictured? Everyone wishes to be appreciated, their fine-looking face with chiselled features await to hear those words “ looking beautiful”

Sagar was one of those men who never wanted to click a Selfie. It was not that Sagar believed  “narcissism" to be a disease or that he felt it was a craving for admiration. The Selfie, forever hurled him back into the memory lane. It reminded him of those delicate moments he had shared with his mother and sister. They loved clicking photographs and had a huge array of these. It happened a few years back, but the memories remained neat as a new pin. His kid sister Disha was 8 years younger than him, she was a beautiful doll. The family was complete with his father holding a government job, his loving mother a housewife, he and his angel like sister Disha. Unlike Sagar, the little girl was fair, tall with an oblong face and wavy hair. Sagar’s father was a lovable man except that he believed in being happy through alcoholic beverages. Sagar’s mother tried her best to wean him off the habit, but was regularly abused. The anger would triumph when he would throw artifacts and heavy objects at Sagar and his mother to show his distaste to  their meaningful advise. He would never hurt little Disha as she was a bundle of joy. 

She stood first in her class and was immaculate about everything she did. Sagar on the other hand witnessed the anger and in the long run he imbibed the annoyance and deceit of helplessness from his mother whom he adored. He could never concentrate or study in the unruly atmosphere. He would copy and threaten teachers who feared. One of those days, a new teacher was appointed. She was loving, but believed in being righteous and true. She found Sagar copying using the textbook pages in the Half-Yearly examination. She was concerned. She gave him a new sheet to begin the paper afresh as it was Sagar’s tenth standard examinations. After the examination, she approached the Principal with the copied papers which were neatly stapled. The Principal asked her the name of the student and sent her to the examination room to register the complaint. The examination in charge tried to advise her to forgive the boy as his father created a havoc and troubled the boy which made life miserable for the whole family. The teacher refused to understand, she felt his parents needed to be told as the child had six more months before his board exams. She called the mother, but unluckily the father picked the phone and said he would tackle Sagar. The teacher wondered how he would ‘tackle’the issue. Sagar unaware reached home after the examination and began preparing for the next exam. His conscious had poked him when his teacher had given him the new sheet of paper to begin afresh. He began studying devotedly and resolved that he would never resort to treason. That night Sagar’s father reached home thoroughly drunk. He was gnashing his teeth in displeasure visualising the teacher’s comment. As he entered, he saw  Disha playing with her toys,  he smiled at her, but he lost his receptivity when he saw that Sagar was studying at the other end of the room. He felt Sagar was trying to fool him to save himself from his wrath. He started yelling and shouting, Sagar disliked the chaos and yelled back asking his father to make peace as he had to study. Mad with anger, his father rushed to the burning lantern that had been kept ready by his mother as there was a regular load shedding, and flung the lantern at Sagar. The lantern flew at Sagar who ducked down only to realise that the burning lantern had knocked little Disha and the split kerosene had burnt her face and body. Sagar and his mother rushed the little girl to the hospital where she was treated for sixty percent burns. The little doll now had a half burnt face and a half beautiful face as a reminder of the pathetic day. She wore a scarf always and learnt to overcome her agony. 

As Disha grew, Sagar ran to various surgeons for plastic surgeries. Time flew, the treatment brought her to a considerably normal state, but she never grew into the beautiful person she would have been. Perhaps, it was the little girl’s sacrifice in restoring peace in their household. Everyone nursed a pang of regret. Disha would push her raw face away and show the beautiful part as she clicked Selfies for the social media, but Sagar and his parents could never come to terms to click a selfie as their well kept faces reflected their recklessness in taking care of their resentment and managing the situation well.
 I had spent more than 30 minutes for taking this selfie. More than 500 snaps were made. But Still don’t know whether the right one was uploaded.