Look Everyone! Mr. Destitute is here. Oops! Poor boy.! My Friends used to cheer up in my presence. Maybe I was like a joker! Or, maybe I looked like a cartoon character! Or in what context , I never knew. I thought it was because I was their special friend- a destitute friend. "Destitute" became my surname after I joined boarding school in grade-4. My surname was based on my "impoverished family status". I did not have the boldness to shut up the babbling tongue of my friends. I was alone. There was no one, not even a single friend to comfort me, to brace me, to reinforce me.
My Family was in huge debt. My parents hardship and cumbersome always alerted me to booster and exhilarate up but, the abasement from friends surpass everything and subside my vigor of touching zenith . Everything gradually became invisible and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into just a one-page picture in my mind.
My mother always said " Do not desist and relinquish in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight with darkness. " Then, I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who is ready and vigorous to battle with darkness, to free himself from the everyday torture and depravity of friendly enemies. I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.
Sewed tattered pant and rumpled shirt, carelessly inserted tie in shirt column, obsolete bag, shoes-the one used during the rainy season; my usual dress for school. And everyday, When I step my legs in front of the classroom door, the same drama begins: Destitute!
To become poor was not a wish of my family neither it was a lottery for them. It was a compulsion.
No one in the class wanted to share the bench with me. Everyone has their own reason and their reasons was coherent-"I was poor and smell bad like a rotten egg ". My parents never told me and even myself, I never felt like a rotten egg, neither I felt poor. I had heard "Poor are those who thinks poor and act poor" and I felt sorry for my friends.
I never quarrel with them for mortification and debasement they showed towards me. Not even once I managed an effort to reply them back. It was not because I was enfeeble or debilitated but, It was because I was stalwart to bear every debasement and my tenacity was bold enough to appease every turbulent condition into tranquil.
Despite being impecunious, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never got a feeling of poorness. Even when there was not a rupee in my parent pocket, they enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem adulterate. I have to complete my responsibility towards my parents like they did towards me.
I realized. I cannot run away from friends daily humiliation because to run away means to forget my responsibility.
Eventually, every word my friends used to disparage me circulated throughout my mind like the fire of agony. My internal impetus aggrandized rapidly and bolster me to halt the everyday affliction from the door of the classroom; I outcry -"Shut up you poors!".
My Family was in huge debt. My parents hardship and cumbersome always alerted me to booster and exhilarate up but, the abasement from friends surpass everything and subside my vigor of touching zenith . Everything gradually became invisible and the dream, my parents envisioned for me translated into just a one-page picture in my mind.
My mother always said " Do not desist and relinquish in hardship. Remember, success always chooses that person who dares to fight with darkness. " Then, I used to compare my friends and their humiliation with the darkness and myself as a one-man-army, a hero, who is ready and vigorous to battle with darkness, to free himself from the everyday torture and depravity of friendly enemies. I was waiting that day- the day of the fight , the day of freedom.
Sewed tattered pant and rumpled shirt, carelessly inserted tie in shirt column, obsolete bag, shoes-the one used during the rainy season; my usual dress for school. And everyday, When I step my legs in front of the classroom door, the same drama begins: Destitute!
To become poor was not a wish of my family neither it was a lottery for them. It was a compulsion.
No one in the class wanted to share the bench with me. Everyone has their own reason and their reasons was coherent-"I was poor and smell bad like a rotten egg ". My parents never told me and even myself, I never felt like a rotten egg, neither I felt poor. I had heard "Poor are those who thinks poor and act poor" and I felt sorry for my friends.
I never quarrel with them for mortification and debasement they showed towards me. Not even once I managed an effort to reply them back. It was not because I was enfeeble or debilitated but, It was because I was stalwart to bear every debasement and my tenacity was bold enough to appease every turbulent condition into tranquil.
Despite being impecunious, my parents fulfilled every wish I insisted. I never got a feeling of poorness. Even when there was not a rupee in my parent pocket, they enrolled me to a boarding school. I was not in the school to demean myself nor I was there to let my self-esteem adulterate. I have to complete my responsibility towards my parents like they did towards me.
I realized. I cannot run away from friends daily humiliation because to run away means to forget my responsibility.
Eventually, every word my friends used to disparage me circulated throughout my mind like the fire of agony. My internal impetus aggrandized rapidly and bolster me to halt the everyday affliction from the door of the classroom; I outcry -"Shut up you poors!".
