A wail escapes from the bottom of my belly
But as I part my lips, it escapes as a frozen breath
Speak, the teacher demanded!
A throbbing heart, I could hear it ringing deep.
The world would trample you in its way, my mother sighed.
She could see the bruises of the cane on my palms.
Why couldn't you tell the answers when you knew it by heart? she wanted to know.
But, Maa I did try..I did , I stammered.
My tears choking my half eaten words
She pulled me closer, wiped my tears and as she freed my hair from those tightened plaits
She spoke of a rule which I was to abide by.
You need to win over words, you need to make those words a game
Ah I said, I do try but I have to struggle hard
They ring in my mind but don't escape my lips
She smiled at me and said you need to trust yourself!
Ah, I said I would try.
And I did try over these years
But they still ring in my mind forming loops of their own
And the moment I open my lips, they die
And I try again from the start
I gulp my fears, mend my insecurities and I speak
They come out in whispers, some fall flat some reach ears
But I remain the same, dumb to the core!
You aren't wrong this time my friend for I know
I haven't been speaking just listening
And for that you do have walls which absorb!
But, I am no wall I am a human who breathes
A human like you and everybody in the street
I speak through my silence which rings deep in my skin
And someday my silence would echo enough
For the world to say: she ain't dumb,
She knows to speak!
I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could
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