The curse of silence

That night neither the rain pattered against the roof nor the wind lashed and made the windows clatter against its frame. An eerily silent night it was. The palm trees stood still and the leaves moved not an inch. Only the silver moonlight danced along the landscape like an original piece drawn by some unnamed artist. The clock struck twelve but she was still alone in the maternity ward. The shift’s doctor had not come as promised and a lone nurse dozed off in her chair. The lady was covered in her own fluid. But whether the fluid was water or blood she cared not. All she cared was for someone to hold onto, to ease this unearthly writhing pain and the shrill cry of the baby to fill the ward. The pain hit her again sudden as a wave; she gasped and screamed to hold onto dear life. Her face covered in tears and perspiration. Her breathing ragged. She waited but the baby did not come out still. Her body shaking like a leaf, she sent a silent prayer, a plea’ Please, please send me help, send help for my first child.’ The nurse did not move from her chair. Why would she, it was past midnight. What an inopportune time to give birth! An hour or two later or perhaps it was just a minute or two, she could hear faint footsteps over her own gasps. The young lad in green robes wiped her face, helped her to hold her legs still and told her to push whenever the contractions came. He helped her stay put for her miracle happen. His own face was shinning under the yellow light with his efforts, but he did not let go. She held onto his hand, thankful that her prayers were accepted. The baby would be born and the shrill cries would ring in her ears.

Her baby sat on her chair. Her chubby cheeks; a mirror of the moon that night. She sat still as a statue, watching the game the kids played in the nearby field. Sometimes the kids came to pinch her cheeks or show her their ball, she giggled and gurgled but did not move an inch from her place. Some of the boys tried to cajole her to come down with flowers or toffees and gifts of different sizes and assortments. She smiled at them but still sat on her chair as if unimpressed by it all.

Her baby started to walk and talk, though seldom her voice was heard. They went to a stall to buy her toys. The old lady showed them monkeys, teddies and Barbie of all sorts.’ Which one do you like pretty?’ she asked her child. She hid behind the door and said not a word. Her mother troubled by her shyness called her from behind the door. ‘Tell us which one do you want little one?’ Her baby looked to and fro like a frightened little rabbit; then lifted a trembling hand and pointed at the nearest teddy, her eyes glued to the floor.

**

Guests came to their home often on weekends. Her mother talked and laughed and often her father joined and cracked silly jokes. She stood behind the curtains, peeping every now and then and giggling in her own little paradise. Often the ladies would call her out’ What is your name sweetie?’ and she would run away and hide between the sheets. Her mother would be often angry and ashamed of her behavior. She would come to her late at night and shake her like a rag doll’ Why are you so slow and shy? Why couldn’t you answer those sweet ladies and sing to them like a normal kid? Why are you so nervous darling, why are you so timid?’ and her voice would crack from grief.

She went to school in her pleated skirt and white shirt ironed to the seams. Her classmates cried in unison, she watched them and then patted her cousin. Her cousin leaned onto her and cried on her shoulders. She pressed her lips tight and kept the pain inside. They started with rhymes and alphabets. Singing along with her teachers and friends was all fun and good. But when they were called by name to sing a rhyme or tell tales of their brood, her faint voice couldn’t be heard even by her vicinal mates. The teacher called the boy who could shout the best to perform beside the teacher’s desk. He croaked and sang and danced to his rhythm, her mates clapped and cheered in pleasure. Then the teacher called her on stage again. She stood there and saw hundreds of eager faces looking up at her, expectant. Her throat dried and her temple shone with perspiration. Her hands frozen like ice, she sang but no sound was heard. Her teacher advised her to shout as regular as clockwork and play along with her mates.

Days and years passed by and friend-groups were decided. One group had giggling girls, another group was called the ‘teacher’s pet’ and some others had the fighting and roaring lot. But she fell into none; she was a lone bird on her own. She wished not for ten or twenty mates. Neither had she cried ever for parties and cakes, though it was a bit lonely to be left out like a little green man, to be called“the silencer” ,stabing her on back. She longed for only a single soul who would love her in-spite of her pitiful ways. She looked hither and tither but they all avoided her like the plague. So she passed her days sitting under her tree in the moor, drawing and painting and reading her books.

Years and years later or so it felt to her, seniors were summoned to take up a demo class. They sat in the class waiting; three of them— the best in their batch, came to teach. The overexcited juniors shrieked and squealed but she sat in her place silent as a lamb. The seniors taught them about chemicals: acids, bases and salts. Only a few listened with rapt attention and answered their quizzes with zeal. The curly haired senior thanked her for her cooperation and they shared a moment of secret paradise. After that day, whenever they met their eyes talked rather than their mouths. At last, thought she, she found a mate who thanked her for her silent ways.But alas! How long can one spare moment like that? How long can you only smile and simper at each other? Her curly haired mate greeted her with a 'Hello!' and asked her how was her day. She stood their as dead as a corpse, as his mates laughed at his face. She tried to speak, but a slimy-brawny monster, strangled her around the neck. His back turned and he went away, far away.

Soon after that fateful day, she heard and saw him laugh with a girl of unearthly beauty, her small hands in his large muscular once. Silence is easily forgotten, only words remembered. Her chest burned and red hot tears ran down her cheeks. She burned for months and years till the 'quiet moon child' turned to ashes and she was no more.

She swore then,her voice now loud and clear ‘I shall overcome this,' her eyes blazing like the sun.