"Sometimes the pain of anger will turn you into monster eventhough you are in conscious"
Three days had passed, and Karikalan had not recovered from the attacks inflicted by Elara and his classmates. He had neither eaten nor slept in peace. Each time he closed his eyes, the memories returned — their cruelty, their laughter, the humiliation carved into his soul.
His thoughts betrayed him, whispering lies, clawing at his mind, twisting his pain into something darker. Though he tried to remain in control, the torment was unbearable. His heart longed to scream, but outwardly he remained still, sitting silently on his bed. Slowly, his thoughts began to reshape him into something monstrous.
Restless, he rose and walked toward the mirror. His reflection was pale, hollow-eyed, almost unrecognizable. As he stared, the events of the previous night replayed vividly.
He had returned from the market only to find his house owner locking his door.
"What happens, sir? What are you doing? Why are you locking my door?" Karikalan had asked, his voice trembling.
The house owner turned, stern. "Yes, I know this feels wrong to you. But remember — you didn't pay your rent this month."
The words struck Karikalan like a blow. Shocked, he tried calling his uncle for help, but the line rang unanswered. Abandoned, he pleaded: "Sorry, sir. It's my mistake. I will pay tomorrow. Please allow me to stay. This has been my home for more than six years."
The house owner's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again.
"Kari, I know you. I've watched you for six years. You were always sincere, always on time. I even told the other residents proudly about you. But now? You've changed. You ignore your responsibilities, and you embarrass me before others."
Karikalan bowed his head. "I apologize, sir. I didn't do it intentionally. Please forgive me."
But the house owner's patience snapped.
"Listen, I don't care about your apology. Pay the rent today, or I'll throw you out. It was my mistake to allow someone like you to stay here." With that, he stormed away.
Karikalan clenched his fists, rage burning inside him, but he buried it deep. Staring into the mirror, he whispered to himself: "One day, I will become stronger than anyone."
The next morning, Karikalan packed his clothes, his heart heavy. Standing before the house owner's door, he held out the old brass key.
"Uncle… take this. This is the key you gave me six years ago. I am leaving now. Thank you for everything you have done for me."
The house owner frowned. "Why are you leaving now?"
Karikalan blinked. "Sir, I didn't pay my rent. You scolded me yesterday. I cannot afford it now, so I must leave."
The house owner crossed his arms. "Well, if you want to leave, you can. But you already paid your rent."
Karikalan froze. "What? Me? Are you joking? I don't even have enough money for basic things. How could I pay rent?"
The house owner's voice rose. "Why are you making so much noise, brat? It wasn't you. It was your teacher."
The words struck Karikalan like lightning. His bundle of clothes slipped from his hands as sorrow filled his chest. His eyes burned, not with anger, but with fragile relief.
"Finally…" he whispered, "…someone acknowledged my pain."
That evening, a knock shattered the silence of his room.
"Who's there?" Karikalan asked, his voice hoarse.
"I am your teacher," came the reply — calm, steady, grounding.
The door creaked open, spilling a sliver of light into the darkness. The teacher stepped inside, his presence carrying both authority and compassion.
"Karikalan," he said softly, "I see the storm inside you. You have suffered, but suffering alone does not define you."
Karikalan's voice cracked. "They broke me, mam. Elara and the others… they made me feel worthless. Every time I close my eyes, I see their cruelty. My thoughts… they are turning me into something I don't recognize."
The teacher leaned forward. "That is the danger of pain. It whispers lies, telling you that you must become a monster to survive. But listen carefully — pain is not your enemy. It is a test. Dharma is forged in fire, not in comfort."
Karikalan looked up, despair in his eyes. "But what if dharma only brings more pain? What if being good means being destroyed?"
The teacher's gaze was steady. "That is the mystery of good and evil. Evil thrives when it convinces the wounded to abandon righteousness. Good survives only when someone chooses it, even in suffering. You stand at the edge, Karikalan. You can let pain consume you, or you can let it shape you into something greater."
Silence filled the room. Karikalan's breathing slowed, the storm inside him pausing for the first time in days.
The teacher placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "You are not alone. I will walk with you, but the choice is yours. Will you let despair turn you into a monster… or will you rise, carrying the weight of pain as proof of your strength?"
Karikalan's eyes glistened. The answer did not come immediately, but a spark flickered within him — faint, fragile, yet alive.