A Monster is Not Born, they are Made October 10, 2021 – Posted in: Blog
No human being is evil or vicious by birth. When babies are born, they are fragile tiny humans. Delicate, small, and innocent. It is when they go out into society that they learn the ways of the world. J.K. Rowling puts this concept beautifully, “We have all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.”
I had both devil and angel inside me like everyone else have, but ‘some’ incidents awakened the devil inside me to the point that it dominated the angelic part.
In this blog, I want to tell you my story. The story of a “bully.” We all love to hear the stories of heroes and knights in shining armor. We also pay attention to the victims who have suffered. But no one really talks about the “bad guys.” The monsters, as they call them. These monsters must also have a story of their own. In a court, a judge hears the story of both sides and then passes judgment.
You are a judge here, and you are going to read my story. I do not ask you for justice, nor am I trying to justify my sins. I simply ask you to hear me out unbiasedly.
I do not remember, but given how much my parents hated each other and argued all the time, probably the first words I heard as a newborn were curses. I grew up in a household where my presence or absence did not matter at all. I was just another mouth to feed—a burden to bear. I silently grew up in the shadows, trying my best to become invisible. At school, I was like a punching bag. I was teased and mocked. I was beaten up for petty things, and I never had the courage to stand up for myself. Instead, I took it all and despised everyone. I disliked the entire world, but most of all, I loathed my parents. This life was a punishment. I was living in hell. Hatred and the maddening desire to take revenge from everyone circulated in my blood and made my heart boil.
But I was not always the only small pupil. Others were smaller than me. So, I started to make them pay for the wrong that others did to me. In my version of the world, I had to hurt them first, or else they would hurt me. This became my mantra. When I bullied the kids younger and smaller than me, I felt powerful for the first time in my life. I was no longer the insignificant one. One way or the other, I was feared, and fear was everything for a boy who had never tasted love.
From then on, I developed this habit of bullying. It was the only way I could overcome the years and years of grief and anger, and it became the only way I expressed myself.
But let me tell you a secret. In the corner of my heart, deep inside my soul, I wept and wailed for all those whom I had wronged. I saw the reflection of my young vulnerable self in them, and it pained me. I wanted the children I bullied to stand up to me and face me head-on, something I never had the heart and courage to do. But they took the beatings, cried, and ran away.
So, can you tell now… Are monsters born, or are they made?