Story of a Girl
— Indu KS
I don’t know when it had begun. I can’t pin point to the exact situation or feeling that started this. It had been a series of incidents, bundles of hidden feelings that had led to all this. I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong, I love it, but sometimes it gets tiresome.
Wait. Where are my manners? I didn’t give you a proper introduction.
I’m conscience. Conscience of a girl.
Don’t believe me?
Well, you got to. Because it’s true. I’m inside everyone.
Most often I get ignored. Some people listen to me. Some listen and don’t care. To some, I don’t even exist, they bury me deep inside their filthy thoughts. I get stuck there. You see I’m only as strong as you believe me to be. I’m dependent on your thoughts, your actions and everything in between. I don’t usually tell stories, but this girl made me to tell one. A story about her. It may not be a great one but it’s worth telling.
So, here I go-
There was this girl, whose conscience, that is me of course, was as delicate as a rose bud. She had a voice, but she wouldn’t speak. Mind you, she wasn’t mute. She could speak, but she chose not to. She had a voice but refused to let it out. The reason behind this is, when she was younger the voice- her voice, was like a ferocious lion. It was brutal. Always saying the truth. She told them when they were fresh and raw and many people couldn’t handle it.
It was too good, to handle. So like all good things, it got destroyed. It was killed. Brutally. Some by her careless parents. Some by her over jealous friends. And most of it by the cruel, rude world. So she tried to tame it. But, the voice couldn’t be tamed. She made a very poor effort. Even as she tried to train it, deep down she knew it was impossible.
So she buried it alive. Hoping it would calm down. But little did she know that it was building its own strength. Each incident, became its fuel. Each hidden feeling became its bricks with which it laid its foundation. What she didn’t know was that one day they would burst out, and when they do they’ll bring a storm with them.
Finally that day came. I don’t remember what exactly she was feeling then. It was like a chaos of feelings, I couldn’t distinguish one from the other. But the strongest ones are hate and disappointment. Whether she felt it for herself or for others I didn’t know. But she was at rage. She couldn’t hold it in much longer. I guess the voice — the lion, broke out. She tried to ignore it for so long that when it broke out, she had no idea what to do.
She just sat there in her classroom thinking about the best possible way to let them out. I already knew the answer, but she was so preoccupied that she didn’t care to listen to me. All the while she kept thinking. How? How? How?
“Write,” a voice called out. It wasn’t me. It was her teacher “Write your assignments and hand it over to me by Monday” she said.
The word — write. I held on to it deliberately, just as you hold a fish taken out of water. The word tried to wriggle out of me, but I held on with all my might. That was the only chance I had to tell her the answer. Finally she noticed.
Write.
She pondered over it. She slept thinking about it. Every nerve, every ounce of blood, every part of her body screamed write write write.
But what should I write? She kept thinking. Once she almost started. Almost.
The second she closed her eyes to think of something to write, all her feelings, emotions came rushing. She couldn’t decide which one to let out first. So she dropped the idea. But she didn’t really drop it; I didn’t allow her to drop it. I had a better plan. I let the answer out again. This time I did it when there were no feelings to be controlled. When she went to bed. When she was at peace. I slowly let it out. Slowly. At first she tried to ignore it, but I wouldn’t let her. She asked again What should I write about? I’m not even a great writer. It was as if she talked to me, rather than to herself. So I took the liberty and answered her question: About yourself. I answered.
She ridiculed me at first. But she knew it was true. She had to let her voice out.
When that happens, there would be a flood of feelings, and it would create havoc inside her. They would destroy everything she ever built like patience, kindness and gentleness. They would destroy them ruthlessly. She has to find a way to stop them. To direct them in a way that would help her in growing again.
So she started writing again. When she did, the words which she had feared would never come, came to her like lightning. They created storm inside of her. And surprisingly she controlled them so well that she turned that storm into a drizzle and slowly into rain.
People who could handle it all, danced in her rain of words, others just found shelter, and some others just stared at it, from the windows of their houses and enjoying the outcome. Whatever they did, they couldn’t ignore her. For she let out that lion and was taming it remarkably well.
Finally after writing so many stories and touching so many souls, she was ready to write her own story.
She sat down, took her pen and started writing her story….. “There was once a girl who had no voice…”
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