My Silence Has A Voice Too

216. A surprising turn of events. We desperately needed a change in our lives. My brother needed to get into a college of his choice, I needed a new school, and my mother needed a new job to fund both our educations (also because she was miserable in her present job). Woodstock School was the best thing that could possibly have happened to my family at this point. My mom got her job, I got my school, and because I was a staff child and didn’t need to pay school fees, my mother could now afford to send my brother to the college of his choice with the best Mass Communication course in the National Capital Region, if not India. Saying I was excited would be the understatement of the century. I was thrilled to be starting off at a new school. There were, of course, the worries about making friends, fitting in, and adjusting to the new system. None of it could conquer my feelings of sheer excitement at getting a chance to start over. God had given me a second chance. By taking up a job s

226. When you had the desire to run. Last summer I had four and a half months off. Four and a half months away from school. Four and a half months of zero responsibilities. Four and a half months of freedom, which I discovered were actually going to be four and a half months of utter boredom. I had so much planned, so much in mind, for those months. I was ready to have the best time I ever would. Alas, I was to be disappointed. I was to stay with my father for the entire duration of my break. His house was in the city where all my friends were, but barely. He lived on the outskirts where there was no public transport. I couldn’t ask friends to pick me up because I was too far off. I couldn’t walk because any place I wanted to go was too far off. I was still willing to brave it out but my father refused on account of the neighborhood being too dangerous for a girl to walk alone. I had to give him that as I’d already had a close encounter, even with my brother around. To

237. Describe your favorite time of the day. My favorite time of the day is the morning: bright, happy, and full of surprises. In the morning, you don’t know how the rest of your day is going to go. Your options are open. Sometimes, you can even choose your own course further in the day. When you wake up in the morning, you’re free of pressures, and you can start afresh. You can forget about previous unfortunate events, or revel in the beauty of the fortunate ones. I guess you could call me a morning person. Everything just seems beautiful under the sunlight. The morning is chirpy, and energetic. Then again, the night is when I feel anything is possible. When nothing is a hindrance. Night-time is my choice of the day to study, or work on any concentrated project that I put my mind to, because I can concentrate all my energy on one thing without getting distracted by movement all around me. The amount of work I can get done in one night is more than I can get done in 3

243. Describe the perfect home. A perfect home is one where everyone in the home lives cordially with the other. No one fights, no one is messy, no one leaves the toilet seat up, everyone changes the toilet paper, everyone happily joins for meals, everyone agrees on watching the same show, people don’t fight for the couch or their favorite chair; where everyone and everything is perfect all the time. Where teenagers listen to their parents, parents are lenient, and everyone is happy all the time. A perfect home doesn’t exist. In fact, a perfect home would be so boring, that it would overwhelm me into killing myself. To me, my home is perfect. To others, theirs might be. A perfect home requires squabbles. It requires bad moments to make the good moments feel more special. They say, “The home is where the hearts is.” Without pain, hurt, sorrow, happiness, joy, consent all together the heart is incomplete. For the heart, and the home, to be complete, one needs to face all these things t