VOICING MY STORY
Rough flesh rubbed across tender skin
It bribed her with a chocolate bar
It caressed her locks
It was the beautiful reaper of her childhood.
It left her a scar, a bruise
It pulled out shreds of dignity, of innocence
She looked right and left and all she could see was darkness.
She screamed into a void.
The next morning,
As she let go of her mother’s dupatta,
In her head, was a war :
To tell or not to tell?
She pulled down the pleats of her skirt,
Trying to avoid every gaze
For there was a different feeling
A different me.
I could walk, yet I was crippled
I could see, yet I was blinded
I could scream, yet I was silenced
The only ray of hope was within me. It was my voice. I saw the school counsellor’s office. I opened the door. It felt like stepping into a dimension of safe conversation. That was a whole new turn, just saying it out loud and sharing my experience made the greatest difference.
My voice no longer staggered as I spoke out my name, my story.
Written by : Ridhima Singh (K.R.Mangalam World School GK2)