Bird in a Cage
Sitting in the second row of a quiet examination hall, Turag could hear his thoughts more clearly. Busy with the exam prep since the last ten days, he has barely been himself under the pressure of his parents’ scrutiny. He has recently hit his 11th birthday, although looks much younger than his age. Round face with dense black curly hair and wheatish complexion, lean body, and big brown eyes, looking for answers. His back always forms a hunch, head looking down on his feet, it often feels as if the gravitational force is stronger only for him.
Resting his left arm on the bench, with the right one supporting his chin, he has been staring at his partially blank answer sheet for almost twenty minutes. Having attempted only a part of the question paper, he doesn’t seem to be interested in writing the rest of it. Turag appears to be making other plans in his head. He wants to reach home early and celebrate the end of the term by doing exactly what he loves – be with himself. No matter how much he pretends, He never felt a part of the world. He could never relate to most of the things his Asian parents and other boys in school talked about. His struggles and wants were unlike anyone.
At this moment, all he wants to do is free himself from this cage, hand over his answer sheet and paddle his way back home. Although, he doesn’t want to be the first kid to do so, to avoid the small talk with his teachers. While he is thinking this, He can feel an uneasiness in his bladder, as if it is about to explode, thanks to the plentiful carrot juice he had for breakfast. Right before entering the exam hall, Turag had stepped into the overcrowded washroom filled with peculiar scents of hair gels, the sound of hand drying appliance and boys double his size staring at the mirror. But, Turag had avoided any eye contact with them. He had kept walking towards the urinal with his eyes facing down, thinking of how he wasn’t able to walk with his feet parallel to each other. His right foot always pointed in the opposite direction for which he was constantly pestered by his mother.
Having aligned his feet together while standing at the urinal, he had felt a presence behind him. A tall guy with rudimentary traces of beard and hair that made him look three inches taller than his actual height.
Turag had tried to release for more than a minute but couldn’t. Uncomfortable with the presence of this burly man behind him, Turag had then pretended to finish his business. One could have seen the dissatisfaction and disappointment on his face as he stood in front of the mirror, tucking his wrinkled shirt back into his shorts. He always wondered if anyone else has faced similar struggles. Back on his examination desk, he waited till the bell rings, so he can rush home, today was not about digging into past struggles. Today was about solitude, about getting away from constant condemnations, about being the person he felt at home with.
