All alone in my mother's womb

All alone in my mother's womb I was a much cherished child, my mother tells me. Born as a princess, I was a cared, a loved and a much celebrated kid, my mother tells me. Walking with me through my developmental milestones, as a kid, was the most precious time of her entire life, my mother tells me. I was considered smart as a whip and I was the only one known to my family to bang cartons with perfect rhythm for any kind of music, my mother tells me. As early as 3, I was put in a drums class and I was the only kid to outsmart any pro. My dad stays back during my practice sessions and boasts about me to any stranger passing by, my mother tells me. Kindergarten to me felt like a heavenly garden. My teachers held the hopes, she had for me, up high, my mother tells me. My retention power of 6 Indian languages amazed everyone known to me, even to people unknown to me, my mother tells me.

 My mother told me all these but never told me all this would not last long. My mother never told me that getting promoted to class 1 will demote my  progressing potentials, my family's love, my friendships, my teacher's care. My mother never told me that I will not be able to read fluently just as Priya, Brindha, Susan, Dhivakar, Andrew, Vinay. My mother never told me that words would play hide and seek with me. Never was I told that letters will deny to take shape when I write them. My mother never told me that my books would hate me. My mother never told me that my pencils would break, my rubbers would fade, my notebooks will tear when I use them. My mother never told me that all this will make me have my dad's hand print on my cheek. My mother never told me that I would be left all alone and restless. Being called prodigy and magic, my mother never told me that I would become fidgety and tragic.

Everyone praised me for all my other potentials.

But now I am called a muff.

All alone in this world, I now want to go back to my mother’s womb to be cherished, loved and celebrated again.