Imperfection

That morning seemed no different than those I had been waking up into for the past 20 years. I got ready for college. I had to be there in another 1 hour. Standing in front of the mirror I thought that I must start-off in 10 minutes or I'll be late. I realized that my hair looked worse than normal. I noticed this bunch of hair-strands that belonged to the right side of the partition but now they insisted on remaining on the left. Cross-border terrorism, I thought, must have slept on the wrong side. I forced them to go back but they remained twisted like a dog's tail. I applied gel. But they had decided to give me a bad-hair-day.
On my way to college I couldn't help thinking about the reason why everyone was looking at me differently, or so I felt. I was constantly kneading my hair in the hope that may be the lost ones will find their way back and stay there for the rest of the day. I grumbled in my mind about the wind coming from the bus' window.
I just made it to college in time. I went to the medicine ward where rounds had already begun. The head of the unit was seeing all the patients. I joined my batch-mates trying not to be too conspicuous as I was late. But I was so sure that my stupid hair would make my seniors take notice of me! Nothing happened though.
Within two beds, I had totally got absorbed in what the doctors were discussing about each patient. On the next bed, the patient was a young boy who looked hardly 6-7 yrs old. I thought, why is this child not admitted in the pediatric ward? He looked at me and I instantly gave into his cute innocence. Next moment I realized I was reflecting back his credulous smile. He looked pretty healthy to me. I expected the doctors to discharge him today. When everyone moved to his bed, I noticed a lean, dark, tall man, dressed in a shirt and white pajamas, wearing a Gandhi-topi, a typical 'Marathi manus' standing next to the child's bed. The man must have been in his thirties, I presumed he was the father. When both father and son started looking expectantly at the doctor, I felt that the child showed much maturity on his face than his age should allow.
"This child is 14 yrs old..." I suddenly jerked my head towards my mam who started explaining the 'case' to us. I was astonished! The kid was hardly 3 feet tall, not very thin but thats all. "We did his growth hormone levels and they came below normal..." After explaining to us, she turned to the father who couldn't look more obliged to the doctor for talking to him. She explained the condition to him the way he could understand. When she started telling him about the treatment, both of them suddenly grew curious. Mam told them flatly that the hormone must be supplemented. The cost would come around Rs. 20,000 per month. The man was still listening but gradually his eyes and then the rest of the face started showing disappointment. I looked at his son, his head was already hanging down. Then mam started instructing the Registrar to write a letter to the Medical Social worker, mentioning that the man was a farmer with very meager earnings.
The son tried to look into his father's eyes, but abruptly turned away, as if a confession of his father's helplessness would suddenly fade away the final traces of faith the man had in himself. Both of them stared into blank space. I tried to catch the kid's eyes to say goodbye as the unit had moved on to the next bed. Those eyes that sparkled with naive mischief a few moments ago, were now drowned in tears of sheer hopelessness. His future was arrested by the money his poor father couldn't produce. His soul shattered, his dreams demolished... Yet he sympathized with his father, trying his best to avoid the reality by which his world came crashing down. He kept silent.
"Whats wrong with your hair?" My friend asked. I turned away from the boy, "Nothing, nothing is wrong with me..."