"Look Everyone, Mr. Cheapskate is here" ; this was the usual jeer I got from my classmates as I entered the class. Maybe it was because of my torn pants, the hole in my shoes or the outdated backpack that I carried. I never knew. But Mr. Cheapskate was what I had become. I was brandished with this name soon after I joined boarding school as a fourth grader. They had labeled me Mr. Cheapskate based on my "impoverished family status". I did not have the audacity to shut up the babbling tongue of my friends. I was alone. There was no one to comfort me, to brace me.
My Family was in huge debt. Seeing my parents struggle empowered me to rise up from the derisive comments of my friends but this resolution diminished as quickly as it had formed. Everything gradually became blurred and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into what it really was: an illusion.
My mother used to say " Do not despair in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight against darkness." I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who was strong enough to fight with the darkness and find his way to the light. Secretly, I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.
Sewed tattered pant, rumpled shirt, carelessly done tie, backpack with few stitches on them, worn shoes that were way past their due; my usual uniform for school. And everyday, When I stepped into my classroom , the same drama began: Cheapskate!
To become poor was not our wish. It was a life-sentence. My personal hell.
No one in the class wanted to sit next to me. Everyone had their own reasons - I was poor. I smelled like rotten eggs. My parents never hurled any nasty comment at me. I had heard "Poor are the ones who act and think low" so instead, I felt sorry for my friends.
I never confronted them for debasing me. Not once did I reply back or made an effort to. It was not because I lacked the courage but, It was because I was strong enough to bear every humiliation and persevering enough to not let these conditions affect me.
Despite being poor, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never felt inferior. Even when there was hardly any money to run the household, my parents enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem dwindle. I was there to carry out my responsibility towards my parents like they had done towards me.
I realized. I could not run away from the daily humiliation because to run away meant to give up my parents , on my responsibility.
Eventually, every disparaging comment my so- called friends used raged a fire inside me. It burned so strong and emboldened me to halt the everyday bullying of my classmates and I cry out, "Shut up. That's enough."
My Family was in huge debt. Seeing my parents struggle empowered me to rise up from the derisive comments of my friends but this resolution diminished as quickly as it had formed. Everything gradually became blurred and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into what it really was: an illusion.
My mother used to say " Do not despair in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight against darkness." I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who was strong enough to fight with the darkness and find his way to the light. Secretly, I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.
Sewed tattered pant, rumpled shirt, carelessly done tie, backpack with few stitches on them, worn shoes that were way past their due; my usual uniform for school. And everyday, When I stepped into my classroom , the same drama began: Cheapskate!
To become poor was not our wish. It was a life-sentence. My personal hell.
No one in the class wanted to sit next to me. Everyone had their own reasons - I was poor. I smelled like rotten eggs. My parents never hurled any nasty comment at me. I had heard "Poor are the ones who act and think low" so instead, I felt sorry for my friends.
I never confronted them for debasing me. Not once did I reply back or made an effort to. It was not because I lacked the courage but, It was because I was strong enough to bear every humiliation and persevering enough to not let these conditions affect me.
Despite being poor, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never felt inferior. Even when there was hardly any money to run the household, my parents enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem dwindle. I was there to carry out my responsibility towards my parents like they had done towards me.
I realized. I could not run away from the daily humiliation because to run away meant to give up my parents , on my responsibility.
Eventually, every disparaging comment my so- called friends used raged a fire inside me. It burned so strong and emboldened me to halt the everyday bullying of my classmates and I cry out, "Shut up. That's enough."