Updated: Apr 27
They say the strongest of us are often the most tested by life. It takes soul-crushing willpower to rise from a shortcoming that shapes our life once and for all.
“The Deaf Musician” by Srinandana Sarma shows how a young boy loses all hope after an accident but doesn’t cave into fate’s play & stands up for himself.
This short story is available in paperback & ebook.
Earlier today, as my mom dropped me off at my music class, I felt different. I couldn’t hear the air, but I could feel it and hear the honks of vehicles. I could smell children screaming with joy on the side of the road. In the past few days, I’ve nearly recovered. All my senses except the hearing seem to be working well. Maybe that was what my music teacher was talking about; the feeling of not being able to accomplish anything on my own has gone away. Feeling independent feels great, again.
I lost my hearing sense following the incident. When the festival season arrived, we started lighting crackers. Massive fires raged all over the place. An enormous cracker misfired and exploded massively just next to me. Chaos reigned all around. As soon as I saw everyone was okay, I was unable to hear anything. My eardrums burst when I heard the gigantic noise. I was bleeding as I checked. I lost consciousness, and I fell to the ground quite unconsciously. The last thing I saw before collapsing was my parents running towards me. I had no idea what was happening. I distinctly remember getting into that ambulance, later lying on a stretcher in a hospital lobby. Then, all of a sudden, I was completely disoriented.
My dizziness arose several days after my surgery and operation, and everyone was gesturing and showing signs to me. I thought they were crazy until I saw my parents. They were doing the same thing as everyone else. My ears did not work. All I could hear was tinnitus and a few buzzing noises. Suddenly, I realised that I could not hear any sound. Tears started falling as I realised I could not hear anything. My head started hurting, and I was depressed. A part of me was screaming, “Why is it always me? Why do I always have to give up on my dreams?” Even machines were no good. I couldn’t even listen to what I was saying. I was very sad and down. I didn’t know what had happened to me. I didn’t know how to cope.
In the last few months, days have become nights, and nights have become days, but the people around me did not change. Several people pitied me, saying that I didn’t deserve that. I thought it was pointless to say that. I mean, who would deserve that? All of the pityings were simply unnecessary to say. Thank God I couldn’t hear them, but I felt their pity. I’ve just given up on everything, from my music to the people I care about to my dreams and goals, and as a result, I felt lonely. In any case, I can’t read my own words for what they are. It was so stupid of my mom to forcefully put me in the Support group. It made me even more, worse than before. Joining a deaf man in a Support group is actually a foolish idea.
It was difficult for me to express myself or receive anything. Scrolling through the texts filled with heart emojis just made me mad. Why do they do that? It’s obnoxious. When I had those mood swings and was feeling irritated and depressed, I thought music could help. I know that sounds crazy, but it used to help me in the past. So I pulled out my violin and tried playing.