The Misfit

It was one of those happy, bright and beautiful, summer mornings when he was ready to start school, but little did he knew, his young life would change forever. He zealously stepped into this big, luscious school waving back at his beaming mother, exuberating confidence and giving her a promising smile, that he will give his best. On entering the gorgeous classroom, he couldn’t contain his happiness to be a part of the luxuries flashing all around him. The welcoming doors, see-through glass windows, the shiny boards, the colour coordinated walls, the comfortable chairs, the sturdy desks and the personalized lockers, amazed him to bits. 

He sat and smiled at his classmates who looked strangely at him for he didn’t seem to be one of them. The queer smell of his hair oil repelled everyone. His language somehow sounded Greek to them and his unsophisticated conduct didn’t go well while making friends. It was almost like, in a moment he rose to fame and the next minute, crashed and burned his spirits.

It was recess time, he pressed his nose on the glass window, a tear ran down his cheek, as he held his humble steel tiffin box in one hand and blew his nose with the other, while he watched all his classmates playing. He was restricted to go out since he couldn’t complete his work. Neither did he understood anything and neither could he make them understand anything, the tug-of-war had begun. Everyday it was a non-stop battle, struggling with letters, words and numbers. Nothing made sense to him, his school in the village was so much fun and he missed all his friends back home. 

The whole shift didn’t seem to go well with him, yet he tried to cope up with his lessons and make friends. There were days when he ran hither and thither, just to get out of the school and be in the most protective arms of his mother, lay down his head on her lap but she worked miles away and returned home late night, tired and exhausted leaving no time for him and to listen to his agonies at school. She had no clue what was going on in his young mind, he was suffocated and frustrated at the same time. Loneliness was driving him insane. 

He regularly made various excuses to get out of the class, teachers started smelling his plight and learning difficulties. By the time, they could do their bit and rescue him – he had made it to the top headlines in all the city newspapers. One day after school, he had never reached home, instead, frantically, ran through the roads. The 8 year old was finally hit and run over by a truck. It is rightly said, the hardest thing about being an outcast isn’t the love you don’t receive but it’s love that you long to give but nobody wants. The young misfit tried but couldn’t keep his promise made to his beaming mother on that happy, bright and beautiful summer morning.