The world is full of sounds and words,but they're not useful for me.
I can't hear or speak.
My name is Shruti.I was born as a deaf girl, so I can't talk.From childhood until now, I've always felt miserable — and others made me feel miserable too.
But I always had one thing to look forward to:my first love.
When I told him I loved him, he said I was taking advantage of his kindness.My world ended that day.
I didn't feel like going to college or doing anything.I wanted to go to the same science college as him, but not anymore.I gave up on that feeling.
But someone was trying to reach that feeling again —a feeling I thought I had long forgotten.
It was my senior, Rahul.
I met him as if destiny itself had arranged it.
It was the day of the entrance ceremony at my art college.For social change and as a new experiment, I was chosen to give a speech in sign language.There was a translator beside me to translate for everyone.
I was too nervous because I had never done that before.That day, every first-year student, their parents, and the chief guest had gathered in the hall.
I was ready to give my speech in sign language.I started signing to welcome everyone, and the translator began to speak.But soon, something felt wrong.
I looked toward the students — I saw puzzled expressions.Parents were whispering among themselves.When I looked at the translator, her expression showed trouble and confusion.
I tried restarting the whole speech, but it didn't matter.The translator was an amateur.I failed again.
No matter how hard I tried, nothing changed.I looked toward my father with teary eyes and was about to leave the stage when everyone suddenly turned their attention to a guy walking up toward me.
I looked at him — and he signed to me:"Let's start over."
He stepped onto the stage.I slowly began signing again, but he signed back, telling me I could do it at my normal speed.So, I started signing faster — naturally.
He began speaking, translating every word with perfect timing, even repeating some in sign language so I could follow him.That's how I completed my speech.
When it ended, the guy was nowhere to be found.
The next day, I was called to the staffroom.When I entered, I saw that same guy being cornered by a teacher.
I knocked on the table to signal that I was there.The teacher looked at me, and the guy waved his hand toward me.
The teacher came to talk to me while that guy tried to sneak away behind her,but then he stopped and signed behind her back — that she didn't know about yesterday's incident.
I talked with the teacher through text messages about what happened.Apparently, the principal wanted to apologize for what happened on stage,but since he was busy, he asked the teacher to tell me they were ashamed of what happened.
I replied, "It's okay," and left the staffroom.But the guy who helped me was still inside, so I waited for him outside.
He came out fifteen minutes later, looking exhausted — like his soul had left his body.
I stood in front of him."You — why did you help me?" I asked in sign language.
He smiled."I didn't help you. I was just sleeping in the hall. When I woke up, it was already full of students, so I got mixed up with everyone. That's all."
"You're not a first-year, are you?"
"No, I'm a second-year student. Name's Rahul. You?"
"Shruti."
"Okay, Shruti. Bye. See you later."
"See you later," I signed.
Oh! I forgot to thank him.
And just like that — I met him for the second time.
He always seemed alone, so whenever I saw him, I'd go and talk to him.He never acted bothered by it.We talked about books, novels, and poetry.
Yesterday, after we met in the library, he asked for my number —but I didn't grasp the situation, so I gave him his number instead.
I texted him after college at night,but he didn't reply.Maybe he still hasn't seen my message… I hope so.
I went to the balcony and looked up at the sky.The moon was bright — it reminded me of him.Always bright and positive.Always getting in trouble and making teachers angry.
Sometimes a genius.Sometimes an idiot.
My idiot.