After years of silently enduring the same drama, I was done. I had cried enough tears, suffered enough stares, and lived through enough humiliation. I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep pretending to be happy in front of people - not even in front of my own parents.
That's when I decided: enough of trying to please them, enough of licking their boots. It was time to do something for myself - unapologetically.
And just like that, I made up my mind. But of course, they didn't stop. The moment I entered school, they kept messing with me like always. I kept waiting for the lunch break, holding it all in, while they threw every insult they could in front of everyone.
But not anymore.
As soon as lunch break started, Siddhi - that girl who always harassed me - tried to hit me on the head. That was it. I grabbed her head and slammed it against the bench. Then I twisted her wrist and dragged her hand across a nail sticking out of the wood. Her fingers started bleeding.
No one dared stop me. They were too stunned to move - maybe even enjoying the show.
Later, my science teacher came and stopped us. She looked at me like I'd turned into a wild animal.
But that day, for the first time in a long time... I smiled. A real, proud smile. One that came from deep inside.
---
That day, I had made up my mind — I was going to go home and tell my mom everything. I would ask her to get my section changed from B to A.
On the bus ride home, I had already planned exactly what I'd say — clearly, confidently, without breaking down.
But the moment I got home, I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even take off my bag. I just sat down on the sofa, looked at my mom… and tears started pouring out.
She just stared at me, confused, and then I began telling her everything — through my tears, but as clearly as I could. I told her how they kept calling me names, how they bullied me, calling me "fat" and "buffalo." I told her I didn't want to be in that class anymore — I wanted to switch sections.
But instead of support, she looked at me angrily and said:-
"You want to change your class just because someone is teasing you? Tomorrow you'll say you don't like your husband, should we change him too?"
And that moment broke something inside me. I realized my tears meant nothing to her.
She gave me the same old advice: "Ignore them. Stay quiet. Be calm."
I just sat there in silence... because by now, my hope had already died inside me.
Later, my dad came home from work. My mom told him everything, and he got really angry. He asked me what exactly had been happening.
But the moment my dad started taking it seriously, my mom snapped. "You're going to change her section over such a small issue?" she said.
That's when my dad raised his voice and told her, "Be quiet. Let me try to understand her."
I told him everything — well, almost everything. The teasing, the insults, the humiliation... but not every little detail. If I had started pouring it all out, I might have broken again. So I held a lot of it in… and just stayed quiet.
Because some pain doesn't come out in words. It just sits deep inside, silently.
---
That day, for the first time in a long while, I felt a little happy on my way to school. Because I knew — my dad was coming today. He was going to step in, stand by me, and finally... things might change.
And he did come. Dressed in his Air Force uniform.
The moment he walked in, all the teachers froze. Of course they were shocked — it's not every day that someone leaves their duty just to show up uninvited to handle their child's battle. And my classmates? They all shrank into their seats like scared little mice. Everyone knew exactly whose dad he was.
My dad calmly spoke to the teachers, explaining everything I'd been going through. Then he placed his hand on my back, looked straight at my class, and asked:-
"Who has a problem with my daughter? Come on, speak up."
The whole class went dead silent.
Because I was the one suffering, and now they were the ones scared.
Then he looked at me and said,
"Tell me, who's been bothering you?"
And I started naming every girl who had bullied me. I didn't mention the boys — because I knew if I did, the teachers would go after them with no mercy.
One by one, the girls I named were called up and made to stand in a line in front of the blackboard. Their faces? Absolutely worth watching. Heads down, not a single one could even meet my dad's eyes — let alone look at me.
Then my dad calmly said,
"Now you take it from here. I'm heading to the principal's office."
This was back when we were in 6th grade — but the moment felt massive.
And then, the teachers began. One by one, they started scolding the girls.
"These are the shining examples of your class," they said sarcastically,
"who thinks they've become too big to treat others like humans."
The class burst out laughing. Their own friends were now the joke.
And me? I was just sitting there… smiling. Soaking it all in.
Watching them squirm, watching their ego shatter — it felt like a whole year's worth of pain was finally being released.
That day, I was happy. Genuinely. Because justice didn't just knock — it walked in wearing an Air Force uniform.
***