Silence is a funny thing because it's everything but silent. I was 12 years of age, trembling against the bed, experiencing something no human should let alone a child. Hearing my mom's footsteps from afar I screamed and ran to her, only to have my words jumbled up. It's been five years since it has been happening, trembling against the bed, taped down my mouth against will. Yet, my mother didn't believe me.

To add a cherry on top, in the corner of the room, located in another part of the house, they brought me to convince me to stay silent by all means. I was told that it was my fault, for something terrible to happen to me, that it was my fault for not behaving correctly, and that it will be my fault if I reported it to the police. They were more worried about their image getting tarnished in society rather than getting justice for their daughter. At first, I was appalled, not expecting my close grandmother or mom to behave in such a way. I tried my hardest to understand their reasons but ultimately had to be brainwashed to follow their orders.

Days turned weeks, weeks turned to years; I stayed silent. My mind was calm as the ocean, but the ocean's calm even if people were drowning in it. As I sank deeper into the darkness, my breath grew heavier with each passing moment. It was as if the weight of the world was pressing down on me, suffocating me. I reached out, desperate for help, only to be met with the hollow echo of my voice bouncing off the walls of this vast, empty abyss. The water filled my lungs, and every gasp for air felt like inhaling liquid despair. It felt as if being intoxicated by my pain. Until I became limp and resigned, allowing the emotions to pull me under, closer to what felt like a deathbed of hopelessness.

We all have experienced being at the bottom of the ocean of emotions filled with hopelessness. Only lucky ones get out; I was one of those lucky ones. One of my friends noticed something off in me and kept on asking with each passing day if I was okay. One fine evening we both sat on the bed, talking of life quarrels. My emotions got the best of me, and I finally told her everything. While I was talking, I could feel my hands trembling, memories flushing through, as it brought my mind back to the same bed. After I was done talking for three hours, telling her everything from start to bottom, she held my hand and said, 'I believe in you, but you shouldn't stay silent about it, instead use it as a weapon to help those who are silent,' and so I did.

I healed myself first, followed by healing those who have been hurt the same by organising workshops and teaching the younger ones to value their mental health more than anything.

A hand that once grabbed mine to pull me out of the drowning ocean succumbed to silence; I want to do the same for someone else.

– Aditi

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