Silent Storm Poem by Divyanshu Mangariya

I was the boy who never spoke,
who sat at the edge of the classroom,
watching the world move like a play
I was never cast in.

Every parents' meeting, the same words—
'He doesn't talk.'
'Does he even have a tongue? '
As if silence was a curse,
as if they knew the storms I swallowed whole.

But no one ever asked
why my voice stayed buried.
No one cared for the weight I carried—
how the world felt too sharp,
how words felt like weapons
I did not know how to wield.

And then, she came.
A teacher, but not just that.
She did not ask why I was quiet,
she did not force my silence open.
She simply saw me.

Her words were not commands but invitations,
her care was not pity but warmth.
And in her presence, I felt—
for the first time—
that my voice was not broken,
only waiting.

Because of her, I picked up books,
let words shape me instead of silence.
Because of her, I found a voice
not in noise, but in meaning.
Because of her, I stand today,
not just to speak,
but to teach.

And now, when they ask,
'Does he have a tongue? '
I answer not with words,
but with the life I have built.