Alive In Shadow: Living with dyslexia; an inspirational story Read online

  I looked at her, and then looked out the window. It was all dark. Morning was still far away to be visible.

  I was in bed, having nightmare about the rough day I had been through.

  As she switched on the light –she saw what I was willing to hide. She saw the blue marks and partially expunged fingerprints over my cheek. She even noticed my left eye swollen. She felt aberrant heat all over my body as I was burning in flames.

  Numbed for a moment, her eyes went wet as she enfolded me tightly in her arms and she cried; her tears were haunting.

  When I remember that day my eyes get wet not by the recall of the pain of that time, but by remembering my mother’s eyes, flooded in tears and the love that she shared. Maybe that’s why I am afraid of extreme care and love because it reminds me of that time.

  Next day she walked me to the school – rant and rave, twinge in emotion. She directly went to the authorities appealing for a strict action to be taken against that teacher who unsympathetically punished her seven years old child. Eventually she got him suspended canceling his teaching license. She was making it right for me and maybe for all those children tormented by him, till that time.

  But she was unaware about the fact that her child was being mentally and physically punished more harshly than that –several times, and she can’t suspend everyone. She can’t suspend the world and make it right for me or for anyone like me.

  Since then, I started seeing tears on my mother’s eyes whenever she used to look at me. I felt my father’s pain whenever he used to get worried about my future. I was ashamed to be their child because I was not humiliated alone they were also embarrassed along with me. I was the reason for their shame and sorrow. I didn’t want to add more to their pain. Maybe that’s why I kept all those humiliation up to me and just cried alone everyday in darkness so that no one could see me crying.

  I used to question my existence every single day, every time –thinking how blissful their life would be, free from my burden. Indubitably, I thought it would be full of happiness if I was never born or if I was not there.

  I was ashamed of myself… no expression is there for me to explain how ashamed I was, except quietness.

  ***

  I was the living clown of the school. Lots of jokes were made over my weaknesses. There was not a single person who didn’t laugh at me –on those shameful days. It was like as if the whole school, then the whole world was against me. I was weak and alone.

  I was just seven when I felt humiliated and discarded by this world and this humiliation continued until I was a teenager.

  There was only an imaginary God with me in my loneliness, with whom I could talk to –sharing all my pain and trouble –asking for what I want. Sometimes I used to pray for the happiness of my parents, sometimes I used to pray for the guidance and most of the time I used to pray for quick and painless death, leaving all the guilt and embarrassments behind.

  Praying was all that I was able do at that time. I hoped one day the God will hear all the prayers of mine and will guide me –saving me from this tenebrous world.

  But the truth was– there was no God in reality. There was no one to hear my howling –no friend with whom I could share my sorrow. My family was just worried about me but no one was there to support when I needed them most.

  I never asked for sympathy. All I wished for was someone to guide me and be with me while I was broken but all I got was the sympathy –as a phony fraction of care appended resembling the form of disgrace.

  I’m still running from that past, my friend. I am still struggling on saving my soul from that tenebrous time –I had been through. I can’t look at my past properly. Maybe because of the fear that it will rupture me, tearing me apart, inside–out, whenever those moments of past will come before my eyes.

  I know there are lots of people in this world who have been through worse in their life –worse than I had been through. But for me whatever I had is enough to shatter me into fractions.

  Infliction

  I was presumed to be a spoiled child –spoiled by the extreme love from my parents –and maybe I was. Maybe it was true –I was the most loved and cared one in my family. Truly –I got much more attention from my parents in comparison to my sisters. My sisters were always there for me, to love me as their sweet little innocent brother.

  They used to tell me stories –about how wicked a child I was. According to them I used to trouble them a lot and handling me was not an easy task. But every time when they shared me my past, I never discern their anger over my deeds, they just used to smile remembering those moments of time –and I used to join in their grin –even though I don’t remembered much of them.

  From the love they shared, it was certain for anyone to conclude that I was the luckiest child as no one never knew the reality of how sad and alone I was –from inside. Neither did my parents know any of it. I always used to wear a fake smile around them as if nothing was wrong but sometimes I used to lose my temper and at that moment they also used to assume that their extreme love and care might be ruining me –making me an attention seeker.

  I was weaker at studies… so my dad took the charge of my study when I was Eight. He wanted to give all he had for the enhancement of his child. He loved me in a word that I cannot define. He used to sit by my side whenever he was free to help me – to rise me.

  He arranged a mentor for me in hope that there will be an improvement in my study. My mentor was also determined at his job and everyday he used to come before dawn to take few classes.

  Despite of all the efforts on me I failed again, but that time I didn’t just fail an exam, I failed my father’s efforts and his hopes. I failed my mentor’s determination and labor. My mentor quit his job and my dad was to some extent disappointed again.

  He was disenchanted of my failure and maybe that’s why he was changing because of me. He was angry and in his rage he used to get oblivious about his acts. He burned all my toys and videogames.

  He started losing temper every time when seeing me around, picking fights with others; he started being irritated over small mistakes –it became his second nature. I blamed myself for making him this way.

  He used to lock me in the room for hours and days so that I could start reading. Literally he tried everything that he thought necessary for my betterment.

  One day he just simply asked me to read –memorize the English alphabets. I took hours to memorize it and after I was done memorizing, he gave me his pen, asking me to write all what I had memorized.

  He was just waiting for me to write something but I was just holding that pen and pressing its tip into the paper. For about an hour that paper was blank until…

  He yelled and I dropped a drop of tear on the paper.

  Shuddered –I started to write a, d, c, b, e, …

  He held my pen, and he asked – “Is it correct?”

  I stared at the paper for some minutes, and kept on staring…“Is it correct?” – He yelled again

  “Yes…” –I nodded.

  Then I looked at his eyes, his face –they were burning in anger. He slapped me and I got dropped down in tears. My mother came and she took me away from him and that day they had a fight all because of me.

  I can still sense that vibrations, that tingling sensation that slap he gave over my cheek and I still can feel the pain and ache of that time.

  That day my father slapped me because he felt letdown giving birth to such a useless child like me and all of his trying had faded away. And for me that was not a just slap he gave as a punishment. I had been through lot worse punishments than that, but it was the first force that cracked the heart of mine. Maybe that’s why I can’t get close to my father and look in his eyes –even after this long era.

  I was the reason for their sorrow; I was their reason of shame. All those times I gave them nothing except regression. They used to have arguments and fights all because of me and things were getting worse day after day. I was tired being a failure, I
was tired disgracing my parents, I was tired of being a clown and I was tired of trying because all my efforts were ineffectual and I didn’t know what I should do.

  Then I decided to end this life of curse and free them from my burden. I thought I would be able to give them the happiness that they deserved after my death. That was the time when I wrote my first suicide note; I was just ten, at the age of emotional development.

  I went to a cliff –to have the longest and maybe the last jump of my life. There was nothing in front of my vision, except all those moment of humiliation, shame and disgrace and my parent’s tears. I stood on the edge of the cliff for an instant but it was not as easy as I thought it would be. I lacked the courage to execute the jump. I was afraid of the pain I might get if I didn’t die, I was afraid of an unknown fear and ache. My mother’s face revolved around my eyes and stiffed me completely. I backed off as I always used to do.

  I scampered back home and then burned the note making sure no one will ever know about it.

  My father was disappointed, and he thought his efforts were insignificant for me. On the contrary of his intellect, frequently listening to the gossips made by the relatives and others about me being a spoiled one because of their tremendous love and care, my father thought to hide that care from me. Maybe that’s why he decided to send me to a boarding house.

  All he was doing was for me, thinking about my future and being unaware of the fact that I had Dyslexia, which was the cause for all. He thought– in a strict place far from home, I could be treated well either by the punishments or by the fear of loneliness and I will be capable of obtaining my concerns.

  The Hell

  Discarded from the world –slapped by the curse of an unknown deed –the land of faith which was holding me at that time of loneliness was shattered instantly when I felt, she has also abandoned me.

  I had a belief that in time of fall, she will be there for me –to rise me, to enfold me, with her love and care as she always used to. From the time, I first opened my eyes –at the time when the darkness surrounded my site, completely –to the time of all horrible nightmares –she was always there by my side, enfolding me…She… my Mother.

  But, she was yanking apart as I was boarded far from home to unknown. I got more deserted and lonely being an abandoned child –abandoned by his parents just at the age of ten.

  I was the source of entertainment, for those who used to live in that boarding house –whenever they were bored they used to play with me –by playing I mean maltreating because for them that was the greatest amusement. I was more like a toy than I was a living being for them. All those time people did was terrorize me –whenever they interacted. Maybe that’s why I started making distance from others –as much as possible. Alone without any friends or companions –discarded by family and all…

  Confused, weak and alone, I was their slave. They loved to penalize me, if I rejected or opposed them. I was the target of their pranks. For them, I was just as a pail of flesh, bone and emotion, on whom they could experiment their mischievous innovation.

  Their favored amusement was to lock me up in the darkness and enjoy upon my fear. Truly, I was their slave, slaved by the fear and their terror. They could do anything they liked and if I opposed then I was beaten up until I fell.

  They wanted to trouble me as much as they could; they wanted to see me cry as much as I could. It’s human nature to laugh on other’s pain and search for happiness in other’s tears and show their pride talking about the humanity when time comes, and they used to reflect the same. They had control over my rations, over my sleep and in many extents over me. I starved for days, and I was restless for nights. No night or day; No season or carnival was there where they left me alone, to be happy –to feel free. All I wanted at that time was to be far from them –alone to enjoy a second of freedom.

  Nights were shivering, as for months I slept on the wet bed and then on the floor mat because every night they used to wet my comforter so that new jokes could be made from them. Shivering and sobbing every night, I missed the warmth of her lap, warmth of her love as I missed her, I missed home.

  I struggled many times; I gave all that I could to save myself. I clashed till my strengths led me, but I was one against them all –I was weak and helpless. I didn’t complain about anything to anyone because it was worthless to do so as no one was ready to hear me or understand me –truly I was all alone in that crowd of people.

  Every time when something went wrong I was the one to be blamed on and to be punished without any evidence. Teachers were disgraced to have me as their student as I was more like a burden than a student to them. It was certain for them to hate me and to punish me with pleasure while they could –that’s why they never bothered to look for the fact, they just believed what they presumed and I never questioned on their presumption because I knew what the consequences would be.

  I was getting more and more deserted day after day –second by second, breaking apart time after time.

  You might think it was a petite thing I had been through and I might be superfluously reacting, mate – and maybe you are right –it was petite thing when I remember it now. But at that time and situation, for the ten years old alone one, it was more than a hell. It’s something that only who suffers can understand…It’s something that can’t be expressed by word. No Mirror–touch depiction –To illustrate...

  In holidays, She –my mother, used to come for visit, taking me out from that prison –helping on setting me free for a couple of hours. That was the only time for me to be happy and fearless. She used to bring some chocolates with her but those chocolates were never as sweet as that freedom was –for me.

  When she enfold you on her arms and kiss you with her love, that will be the moment when you feel you’re not as alone as you thought you were in this world of grief….life simply smile in her arms– around your neck. –I too used to smile with my mother’s arms around my neck, hiding all the tears and forgetting all the troubles –I had been through. I just used to wish the warmth of her presence to be with me–always– when I shivered in the cold night. I wished her love–always to come– when I got locked in darkness and her smiles to always hold my tears when they are about to roll out.

  I used to wish she would never leave me again. I wished she could always be there enfolding me in her arms. But wishing was all that I could do. As the day used to pass, I was supposed to return back to that prison –that hell.

  She used to walk me up to the gates and kiss my forehead. Then turning back, hiding her tears from me, she used to walk away. And I just used to stand, watching her go until she completely disappeared in the distance, as her shadow vanished –crying quietly.

  ...tears were drying… slowly…

  It was not the worse that I faced in that prison, it was just the beginning.

  One day I was accused of hiding cigarettes inside the boarding house, which was strictly forbidden. It was one of my classmates who did that and I was paying for his deed. I refused the accusation but no one heard me and no one searched for the truth, they just declared me guilty.

  I was punished severely and the punishment went crueler as I refused to accept the accusation of being guilty. I bear the pain as much as I could but at last I got weakened and I accepted it. Then the principal gave me the order to polish the shoes of the entire house for weeks as the penalty of my misdeed.

  I polished every shoes of the boarding house for weeks as he ordered me. They used to dust them time and again in front of my eyes and it was my job to make it shine without saying anything. My hands were painted black with the pungent odor of the boot–polish and the stinky socks were always affixed to my hands. I was allowed to say nothing –all I had to do was polish without opposing, without crying, without breaking down, without saying that I was innocent.

  "Loser beggar has become the polish man, the new jingle all over the school." And again that time the god laughed at me making it worse to my suffering.

&nbs
p; I spent a year in that boarding school far from home in that darkness and loneliness, in a hope for betterment but it got worse as I was mentally stressed than I ever was. I was depressed and my health was also losing its wellbeing.

  Seeing no improvements my parents took me back home and finally I was out of that prison.

  I was supposed to be happy from my return but nothing was like it was before. I was home but it was not the home I used to know. My father was changed and so was I. I started getting irritated and frustrated quickly. I started losing my temper easily and my anger started taking control over my senses.

  Remembering the worse that I got into, looking at the failure of the present and adding more to the disappointment of my parents, getting abandon by them while I was just ten years old confused and alone child –I started hating myself more and more.

  My ego was overpowering my sentiments and I was blind in rage. Day after day I started picking up fight with my parents especially with my father maybe because of my broken sentiments of being discarded while I needed them most. I made my house as a warzone where every day war used to take place –all because of me. Literally, I lost control over myself and all.

  ***

  I was just twelve years old when I decided to leave that place –my home. I wanted to run away to a place unknown, leaving all behind me. Running from all but the truth was I couldn’t run from myself and for me I and only I was my worst enemy –I knew I can’t escape myself.

  I ran away... But, I had nowhere else to go –no friends to seek for help. Alone in the streets with the darkness covering the night, I was puzzled and terrified so I went back home. Everyone was worried– specially my mom.