One, two, threeee cracked the cane...
Class IV (B), the summer of 2002 it was. The teacher clad in a red shirt emitted stern hues. The students shuddered as they saw his cane taking longer strides across the corridor.
There were categories of students within the class. Some were the book worm types who mugged everything they could find in the pages of the book. Some were the smart types, who knew what would come handy and relied on skim reading. The rest of the class were termed as the dumb lot who were always clueless about what their books held in them. But, in every class let alone this, there you would spot one more category of students who are often ignored under the conclusion that they seem like the dumb ones. This category of students comprises of the "introverts".
There, our story finds one introvert girl shuddering in fear as the cane approached nearer. Grammar was her favourite but she had not yet mugged those verb patterns which were assigned to them as home work. Her mother back then was hospitalised for some surgery and she had spent the whole night at the hospital. But, she knew it would be too lame an excuse and so she prepared herself to face the wrath. Tears trickled down her eyes as the cane unleashed it's fury.
One, two, threeee she counted. Fifteen smacks and she was left numb. The teacher furious at her inability to answer even one correct answer dragged her outside the class and asked her to kneel down. The whole school pitied her state as she kneeled under the scorching sun. Time started ticking heavily. She waited for her teacher to free her from this state but probably it had skipped his mind that he had left someone kneeling down under the sun. She could have walked up to the common room to remind him but being an introvert she lacked that confidence . Time took its toll on her. At that very moment, she saw the teacher running towards her. He pulled her out of the place, took her to the common room and nursed her bruised knee.
She was taken aback, he was the one who had punished her and now here he was nursing her wounds. The teacher looked up to her and in his grim voice announced, "You should learn to speak for yourself" and asked her to head home as her father had come to pick her.
Apparently, her father had told her teacher about her mother's state and the teacher having understood her situation had asked her to be vocal about it.
Days rolled into years but she no more was canned. The students of her class would fume with jealousy but the teacher could never punish her again. So she tried her best to never commit any mistake and she did succeed to some extent. She went onto become a student much dotted on.
Fast forward in 2018, she still hasn't changed. She has grown out of her sleeves but not out of her introverted self. And for the first time in so many years she has finally realised that she likes being an introvert and that under no pretext would she want to change herself for that is who she is and to thrive to be someone who she is not will be heartbreaking.
The teacher was correct when he asked her to speak for herself but little did he realise that she trusted the world like she trusted herself and so expected that her silence would be heard and understood. She, today realises that picture perfect stories don't exist, that heartbreaks make people stronger. Love not necessarily is found in fairy tales which end with "and they lived happily ever after". It is a warm feeling which makes you believe in the dustiest corner of your mixed up soul.
As you read this, here is a message for the introverts: It's perfectly okay to be comfortable in your own skin. It's okay to cry a little each time you get deceived. The world may judge you but it's okay to not lend out secrets. Someone very dear told me, being an introvert makes a person attractive, so remember this, you are beautiful because you are like no one else . You are one of a kind.
Sending forth a lot of love,
An introvert.
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