Title: The Road Of Scars Poem by ashok jadhav

Title: The Road of Scars
(The speaker stands alone on a dimly lit stage, shadows stretching across a cracked floor. Their hands tremble slightly, eyes searching the distance as if confronting invisible ghosts.)
They told me—oh, how they told me—
"Take the easy path. Choose the safe way.
Avoid the fire, sidestep the fall,
let wisdom guide your steps like a gentle hand."
But I—I was reckless. I was impatient.
I thought life could be learned from books, from warnings,
from whispered advice in quiet rooms.
I believed knowledge could be borrowed…
like coins from a stranger.
(Laughs bitterly, shaking head.)
Ah, how naive I was.
How foolish.
How… young.
The world does not hand out lessons politely.
It does not bow to your intentions.
It strikes. It burns. It shatters.
And only then—only in the aftermath,
do you stumble across wisdom.
I have known hunger that gnaws at the bones,
loss that hollows the heart,
betrayal that poisons the soul.
I have fallen in ways I could not imagine,
and each time…
I rose heavier.
Wiser.
Wounded beyond repair, yet alive.
They call it suffering. I call it… learning.
Every scar whispers a truth I could not hear
when life was soft, when the path seemed smooth.
Every failure, every tear, every empty hand…
was a teacher. Stern. Relentless. True.
I have learned the hard way—
and oh, the lessons cost me more than I ever imagined.
They cost pride, they cost comfort, they cost illusions.
But they gave me something money cannot buy:
the clarity to see,
the courage to stand,
the strength to endure.
(Pauses, looking upward, voice softening, almost a whisper.)
If only I had listened, I would have avoided pain.
Yet… would I have understood life?
Would I have understood myself?
No.
The hard way… was the only way.
And so I walk on, scarred and wary,
but wiser than the naive heart I once carried.
I walk on, knowing that wisdom does not come from comfort,
but from fire.
From loss.
From falling—and choosing to rise anyway.
Yes… I have learned the hard way.
And I would endure it all again,
just to understand the truth of who I am.
(The speaker slowly sinks to their knees, hands resting on the floor, a quiet resolve settling over them as the lights dim.)