In the days when I had decided that I am not going to talk much but going to stay in quietness, lost in gloom and doom, I started playing games a lot. I was so angry that I had to cycle fast or run some distance to be quite with out talking out. My grandmother was happy that finally I had learned my lesson. She kept telling everyone “ see all she needed was a good thrashing to learn to behave”. No one listened to her and no one was happy about this, not even my dad. If looks had any heat she would have been burnt then and there with the look I used to give her but I never answered her back or anyone for that matter. My aunt and mommy were worried for me and they told me it was OK if I threw another tantrum and shouted at the top of my voice rather than be quite and angry. I did not listen to them and also stopped playing much with my sister, so my sister started spending more time with her friends. No one ever allowed anyone to hurt Julie and she was finally secure in our home. Especially my aunt became very protective of her since it was kicking Julie (though it was never proven I will always know it) that was the base of all the chaos.
I went on getting better and better in my studies because to be silent I had to either read or play. When I was done with cycling and running I started studying everything and then revising them and almost had the books memorized. I never knew until then that I used to spend so much time arguing and chatting. I cannot say how many months this silent protest lasted but slowly I started speaking normally again but still I carried the angry look most of the time….
In school, we were having good time with our new sports instructor. He was very strict but at the same time good trainer. Many kids who never participated in physical activities were pulled into the games by him. He never allowed any excuse until he was sure that it was genuine one.
I used to give excuse of my club foot and not play much in school and never participated in the mass drill they organized every Saturday. I never wanted to be in competitions where others could mock my club foot or beat me badly in games. I played alone.
The new trainer told me I had to do as much as possible and take rest if I truly had pain in my leg. We had a little argument but he won because he knew I used to walk quite long distance to school sometimes instead of waiting for the bus and also when I wanted to, I played quite well. For once there was a person who could not see my disability. To him I was like any other kid. He made me sweat it out and run like everyone. Initially I thought he was my enemy.. not in the category of my grandmother or God but just a tiny bit of enemy but later on I realized that I loved the way he treated me. No special kid treatment. Tough on me, forcing me to show my best, challenging me to reach a target and I knew this is the way I wanted people to treat me.
One day he told me to come and meet him in the lunch time after I finish my lunch. I knew he had some plan for me and by now I had started to trust him a lot. The title of tiny enemy did not stay on him for long ; soon he was considered the best person I had met since meeting Mr. Right.
To be continued