Life of an Indian Teenage Girl

My sister slammed the door on my pinky

I was in kindergarten at the time and as usual I had to go with my mom to the mall to buy the same old stuff- vegetables, fruits etc. I liked going outside though to be honest. Better than sitting at home and doing nothing.

We went to the mall and came back. My mom, following the routine, went to call my dad, who was in his office, and inform him that we had reached home.

My mom, absent minded, asked my sister to close the door. I was standing near the door with my hand on the rim of the doorway. My sister, who is four years older than me, all of a sudden became an obedient child and proceeded to slam the door on my pinky finger. To which I responded with, "Ouch, stupid!" because it did not hurt.

My mom turned to see my finger stuck between the door and a look of horror splashed across her face. My sister had the same look too.

My mom quickly opened the door, to reveal my pinky finger which was covered with blood and almost nail-less. THAT is when I started crying.

My mom sent my sister to call an aunty, a friend of our family, from downstairs.

She ran out and my mom started dialing my dad, who kept disconnecting the call. At this point my mom was in tears.

The aunty came and asked my sister for a towel and some ice cubes. She softly rubbed the ice on my bleeding finger, to which I responded with more crying.

"Don't cry. It will be ok." Aunty said, though I was not sure who she was talking to; my hysterical mom or the hysterical me.

My dad finally picked the call and I was rushed to the hospital. My sister was left back home with the aunty.

I still remember my sister crying and me thinking, "Calm down. You're not going to jail for this."

We finally reached the hospital and I was told to wear a caste for a few weeks.

I had to sit at home doing nothing for hours. I did get a little extra love at home from my parents and a little extra hate from my sister.

My mother used to feed me everyday, even though my right hand was perfectly fine and my sister used to get so jealous it was basically the highlight of my day.

I had to go back to kindergarten after about a week. My dad dropped me to my class and my class teacher looked at me with pity.

A few weeks later I was back to my normal form and I could go to kindergarten in my usual school bus and I would start eating on my own again.

I still have a scar on my finger though and the nail is still oddly shaped.