Not a blog

 In 2014, I joined JNV and I had long hair which went down to my waist. When it was cut, I was so sad. We were said to do so because we as kids may not be able to manage it. It was a worthy point. When I was just going to the barber shop, saw a girl who later stayed in our hostel. She was marked because she then itself had big breasts and odd hairstyle. And thus began my Navodayan life. Lots of dreams and my single wish and hoping that I'd be able to manage everything by myself was shattered by my teachers in 2014 December because when I was asked by a senior or I think one of my batchmates to dance before her, I the ten years old danced, being a performer and the 'boys were perhaps looking at me' and my parents were asked to come. My parents received a separate round of taunting for this before leaving for the Christmas vacation. A teacher who was my distant relative diplomatically urged to bring my parents. No one had any other option! The students had some other complaints of me but my books were even checked. I was expected to get a sumptuous suspension just because I was proven to be an anti-social and slutty.  Shortly I received an academic accolade so I ridiculously thought that a season of taunt had given me some happiness, like a blessing in disguise. There were times where I wish small compromises should happen to sustain peace, but adamancy was always there. Perhaps those episodes of picking were the worst where they could have instead used peaceful talks. Navodaya was said to be a home but it wasn't. I always felt it something above me. I was a 'pervert' in my own way. I can be held accountable for my faults. And I received beating from my male teacher just because I was disorganised. Also I went kinda gross during his class but he didn't beat. Whenever a child moved from its seat during his duty, he'd find and instantly cane them.

Those small days of leave were wished to be big that I could stay for long- it wasn't out of homesickness as many would mistake. I'll be the happiest if I'll be in house, but the day on which I've to go there Will be filled with stress induced gastritis including suffocation, bloating, heavy chest etc. I'll be pitiably managing to find my comfort zone- library, food, favourite people, favourite things etc. Changes will be so hard to digest. I oftentimes felt that changes were coerced- and it was true. I hated things being coerced. I hated being trapped. I then hated people making fun of it. I was a black sheep.

Class six was that. The first year will of course have some problems. Then they'll lead years of proud students. But it wasn't that. It'll be never. They just got themselves finely adjusted. That's all.

In class seven,  during the December second Saturday, I became so anxious. I always felt so sick in an environment like JNV so I always kept writing about things I should tell my mother but I forgot many. It was then that so many sounds came and I felt so disturbed. I cried to stop them. But it was their room too, isn't it? I was so unhappy. Only one got my emotion and asked them to stop until I write about everything. How apathetic they would be! The system of children in boarding school itself is so problematic that blaming a typical group like house captains won't suffice. Small things will get big taunting. In 2016 February, we kissed each other on kissing day before the valentine's day. On 2 March, we were called by the principal and we all girls received beats on our backs. Our parents had to receive a long meeting. I still remember how angrily a madam spoke about us girls. Teachers, you may not have always beat us, but your attitudes were enough! They even asked whether they should begin a matrimony in the name of the school. How come girls kissing each other be so dangerous? Will we be wayward? Or was it your internalised queerphobia?

 My friends will always pick me up for various reasons, tease me in a tone which I'll pick so serious, and they'll later say that I should grow so bold that they'll no longer tease. Fuck off! They won't even help me for basic things. I have urinary incontinence but I'm so careless about it. Completely my fault, but the way my class seven teachers dealt with it was extremely traumatising. Beat me. Such level of creepy talk enough to make a child cry af. Seventh class was about me , an orderless child forced to accept an 'ordered' system of hostel inspection, thus invasion of privacy etc. My batchmate forced me to change my drying location because she'd better dry clothes than me and I was a total mess. Assignments were irritating and I always found so but no one agreed. All they did, kicked me.

In class eight I started taking medication from a so called urologist. I'm sure he did negligence but he just aggravated things. I spent the whole second Saturday of 2016 November crying and crying before my mother, she was helpless, I pleaded to take me home. She didn't. She was so sad. They went. I cried, ate so many snacks they brought and slept until our house captains woke me up for the evening movie, "Annmaria kalippilaanu" and I managed to watch it somehow. Still you should know that my mind is in different areas at the same time because I was tensed about my mother. A mother asked me to calm down but I wasn't able to. A senior  too said but they never tried to understand me. No one! I'll cry rolling on floor on mess and then Usha madam will respond in an apathetic way. I'll be so insecure. Nobody understood me. I got more lazy. I was again sad. Lose hope in humanity. It's still so. I still haven't fully stayed at my home lol it's my home na, but little was the time I spent with my parents. I'll reimagine my school photos to be beautiful. Bindu madam will wear long earrings but she won't allow the same for girls! And we won't be allowed to talk freely with boys! Because they are boys. Our boys too have the same antipathetic attitude because they were brought up in such a system. I decided to take TC after class 8 but it got diluted after I not getting to up because if we get to migration we should stay in another JNV for a year. Two more years I had to face. Thenceforth began my lack of communication. Calling days were filled with tears and mumbling. 

In class nine I'd to stay in Shivalik house because one of our dormitories were comparatively small. That too was the worse. That's the haven of brilliant people who don't have hearts. We will say about privacy but we won't consider the same about our Independent juniors. Let's take an example of me. I wore bangles of pink, grey and orange colours. They asked me to change.

"It's my choice!"

"We've no problem if others tease you"

"There's no problem!"

"Don't you feel shame wearing so many bangles like this Paandichchis(Tamil girls)" 

"Why should I? I literally like it!"

"No point in saying about it to her"

"But you should only wear so"

"You should place your water bottle in your hand, don't tuck between your hand and torso. It's so gross" 

"What's the problem, it's the most comfortable way?"

Tucking my pill strip in the shawl was another issue. It was convenient, but not so nice for these peeps. 

"Why can't you just give the responsibility to your cotmate"

"I feel this more comfortable!" 

"You are just gonna be here for two years then why like this"

My cotmate too agreed. It wasn't my self sufficiency but my way that affected them. I was effin comfortable with my own way. They could elaborate on their privacy but couldn't do the same for me. Judgmental peeps. They'll even taunt for the colour of my uniform since it worn out and didn't deserve to be called a uniform.

One year- one year. Ok. Even my parents asked me to be bold. My seniors asked me why didn't I make friends with my batchmates. I was comfortable with some seniors and like minded juniors- the randomest people only. I remember, in class eight, a senior picked me just because I shared my sadness with newbies and they soothed me. Yes, I'm a senior and still I can be broken!

I was, am and will be fragile. And people found, find and will find it the most easy way to pick me. Even my parents won't help me. Because I'm not bold. I'm the ugly chick. I don't even need soothing because I'll be spoilt as per the great Indian culture. I wanna write random thoughts. I am foodie, will walk clumsily because of urinary incontinence, fart , all they do is bodyshaming and teasing. Because it's the easiest approach! One of my periods were the matter of anger for my matron. She was annoyed. My seniors, batchmates and teachers largely didn't believe I've backpain. It got worse when I was doing some little steps which made them instantly invalidate me. So if I'm sick I should always be so. Even my class teacher opposed the decision of using a chair in class. The funny thing is that after we all passed out, renovations took place and now every class has supported seats lol. This is called irony. This is the reply of time to teachers who gave me intimidating stares when I asked for a chair. This is for those who bodyshamed me when I talked about my pes planus. I'm fat and lazy, but I deserve a bit better. You should at least know now. Otherwise what the very purpose of the day word evolving is!? And one scene I remember is two teachers taunting a student because he made his hair bald. They were beating him. My friend was said to cut his 'awkward' hair by one female teacher. Later only that I understood that all these were enough to kill us.

Once in class seven, a classmate was quarreling with me, and she said to a junior not to hear me. She said: "Who's here to hear persons like her?"

I'm so unworthy to be a senior even. There are seniors who are broken than junior kids. I think so. I'll shout at seniors because they'll say shut up and I'll scream "Shouldn't you hear my side too you ?" This anchoring bias takes a big part of my life. I'm always a child and you should know it.

I'll say because I deserve a life just like others. 

A year ago met the mother of one of my juniors. That lady too picked up my crying habit. People find an odd pleasure in targeting others insecurities. Whereas, her child was way more terribly homesick than me!

In my higher secondary school, we shan't wear any dress other than our uniform which are grey shirt and pants. I'm a fat girl. Men will look through my pants. They find it so pleasurable. Even my parents can't help me. A pity school of a pity state which not even provides good government printed textbooks and verified information to its higher secondary students. We had 'motivation classes'. One was batch seperate and it was ridiculous. One was religion seperate. One for Christians and other for non- Christians.

I always felt some kind of sadness when I see faces  people doing services, people who are befooled, clowns, who are physically deformed, blind etc. I think I'm sensitive and that's why. I used to drink lots of water in evenings to correct my voice so my mother won't feel that I've cried. I was always fragile. I am. I am curious. I'm sensitive. I need freedom and have the right to question. I spent eighteen years of my life not  knowing how beautiful originally it would be!

I feel to write about whatever I feel because they're what I feel, but my mother don't like I spending so many hours on phone because I underwent two eye surgeries in 2018. I'm not much talking to her now, she says, but I'll say she's not getting me now. That's why. I'll share my trouble to people hoping that they won't be toxic persons. I'd enough. I'm not like my father who shouts not to hear others opinions. I'd enough. I need peace. Because I just deserve it.

I swear, I was never perfect. But at times I felt that it was excessive to taunt for small things like this. At times I felt that people were acting- they were pitiably 'sensitive' than me. They were much faking it.

 I understood it. It was destroying me. It's. There's nothing fucking than people playing with your emotions and later picking you again when we ask on their accountability. It's fucking deplorable and killing. 

Dear society, dear parents, I'm a fragile person. I was that ever since I was born. I will be that always. Please understand that I'm not faking my illness, neither ruminating it, or kind of reminding me that I'm an I'll person. I am vulnerable but I too deserve a space here.

Thank you