My Silent Companion

By Shwetha V

I ran to the washroom, locked it, and leaned against the wall. I had a different feeling this time. A feeling that I had never experienced before, a feeling of deep satisfaction and happiness. I went near the wash basin and kept staring at the mirror placed, just above it. Lots of memories flashed before my eyes. I felt a sudden chill, and in the next moment, I was back in the past. I heard my mother calling me out in a loud voice, “What are you doing inside for this long? Come out fast, it is getting late to school.” My hands started shivering, voice cracked and I could not reply. All I was thinking was about the moment I would have to stand and read a paragraph from my English chapter to everyone in the class. Yes, I was feeling down, insecure, and helpless. I wiped off my tears and rushed out of the washroom. I wore my uniform and quietly sat for breakfast. My heart was beating faster and I had lost my appetite. “Have something and leave to school. You are not having food properly these days” scolded my mother. I remained silent and kept staring at her. 

My mind went blank; I did not know what to do. The thought of going to school, reading before classmates and teachers, felt unbearable. I gathered what little courage I had and rode off on my navy-blue Ladybird cycle towards school. As expected, it turned out to be a difficult day. Sitting alone in class had become a pain I had grown used to from my third grade. The constant teasing, the quiet exclusion from group activities and the uneasy looks whenever I was reluctantly included to a group, built a silence inside me; one that grew heavier with time. I always wondered why I could not open up to my parents. I had no answer to this thought. I did not know how to explain it to them. This drained me so much both physically and mentally. There were days when I tried to convince myself that I was fine, but other days were heavy with anxiety and a sense of hopelessness. Some nights I laid awake, unable to sleep; other nights, I dreamt of running endlessly through a vast, unknown place, lost and afraid. I did not understand what was happening to me.

My speech clarity problems had affected me deeply, and slowly I started feeling insecure about myself.  Since both my parents were working, I used to stay alone at home after school until evening 7.30pm. Many times, I would go to the washroom and cry quietly. I did not know what to do, and I never told my parents how I felt. Talking softly to the off-white wall in my washroom became my way of healing. It became more than just a part of the room; it felt like a quiet friend who never judged me. I would lean against it, close my eyes, and let out everything I had kept inside all day. Its stillness gave me a sense of comfort, as if it was listening carefully to every word I said. The coolness of the wall against my back felt calming, like a tight hug. No matter how many times I broke down, it stood there silently, absorbing all my pain.

Spending time with my silent companion made me feel lighter. It was the only place where I could truly be myself, no pretending, no fear, no embarrassment. As days passed, I began to focus more on my studies, since my tenth board exams were nearing. Somewhere deep down, I felt that the wall had quietly given me strength to move forward, to face each day with a little more courage than before.

Gradually, I began to realize, all I wanted was to be happy and at peace. Over time, the washroom in my room became my comfort space; a quiet corner where I could lean against the off-white wall and let my heart speak. I slowly learned to accept my speech clarity issues and decided to move forward with strength, focusing more on my studies. That wall became more than just a wall; it turned into my silent companion, patiently listening to every unspoken feeling. In its stillness, I felt understood; as if it held me close and comforted me when no one else could. This small routine became a gentle part of my everyday life. 

As days went by, I started to face my insecurities with more courage. I slowly stepped out of my comfort zone and began talking to people around me on my own. My studies improved, and I stopped worrying so much about my speech clarity. People still made fun of the way I spoke, but their words did not hurt as much anymore. Deep inside, I always felt the presence of my silent companion; quietly guiding and comforting me. With that thought, my confidence grew, my face looked brighter, and most importantly, I learned to love myself again. Listening to melody songs became my way to unwind, and my bond with my silent companion only grew stronger.

I heard a sudden loud sound from outside, and in a flash of a second, I was pulled back to the present. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride. I had come so far, overcoming all those painful years, and I gently leaned sideways to hug the wall. I smiled through tears; I was no longer that scared, silent child. 

Today, I finished presenting my final semester seminar in my engineering course. I spoke with confidence, and for the first time, neither did I care whether everyone could follow my speech, nor did I ask anyone how my presentation went. I was simply happy; happy from within. I realized that everyone is unique, and each of us carry our own strengths and talents. In that moment, I made a quiet promise to myself, that, I would never go back to that old version of me again. I have friends now, people who accept me for who I truly am. Yet, amid all the happiness, one thought still gently lingers in my heart; I wish I had opened to my parents when I needed them the most. Deep down, I know they would have understood me, supported me, and stood by my side through everything. Maybe then, I would not have carried all that pain alone.

 I also realized how much difference a few simple words can make. Sometimes, just a gentle question like “How was your day?” can bring out emotions that words fail to express. If only my parents had asked me that, every evening after school, things might have felt a little easier; a little lighter.

Wiping my happy tears, I leaned against the wall and thought about my future - my MBA plans, my dreams and everything I wanted to do in life. I hugged my silent companion tightly and whispered, “Thank you for being with me always. You are my best friend and the reason I have changed. ”With a small smile, I walked out of the washroom feeling peaceful, proud, and truly happy.

By Shwetha V