Growing up in a small town, my parents were keen on getting me into a good school. Oddly enough, despite my mom being a teacher herself, she opted not to enroll me in her school. Instead, I found myself in a group of friends who acted like they were a cut above the rest, making me feel like I was always playing catch-up and constantly seeking their approval.

Looking back now, I wonder why their opinions held so much weight for me. Bullying, I've come to realize, isn't always overt; it can be insidious. The bullying I experienced wasn't always in your face; it was more like a slow burn, chipping away at my self-esteem and zest for life. In those early years, it was mostly name-calling, being left out of their inner circle, and dealing with their sudden outbursts of anger over the smallest things – and this was when we were barely out of diapers.

As we got older, the bullying took on a new form – a contest of whose dad was the wealthiest. Coming from a simple Bengali middle-class family, where anything beyond the basics was considered a luxury, I struggled to fit in. Despite my family's efforts to teach me the value of things, I couldn't help but feel resentful, always comparing our lifestyle to that of my peers.

In my desperation to be accepted, I resorted to some pretty desperate measures, like stealing things I thought my friends would like. Of course, I got caught eventually, and the fallout was not pretty. My parents were furious, and I couldn't even explain why I felt the need to do it in the first place. It was a wake-up call for them, though. They realized something deeper was going on beneath my erratic behavior and poor school attendance.

My sister tried to help by making me these elaborate lunches, hoping it would win me some friends. But my so-called friends never even noticed, scarfing down my food without a second thought while I sat there hungry and invisible. This cycle of neglect and manipulation continued until I hit my breaking point.

One day, pushed to the brink by hunger and frustration, I lied about not having any lunch in hopes of salvaging a bit of dignity. Instead, I was met with hostility as they rifled through my bag, further eroding any sense of self-worth I had left. I screamed in frustration, drawing the attention of teachers and, eventually, my parents.

But justice was hard to come. The school decided to call just my parents. Maa Baba luckily understood the actual scenario. They decided to reach out to the other parents and explain to them what happened. The other parents brushed off my suffering and made their kids never talk to me again, leaving me to navigate childhood alone. Not only did nobody in the class talked to me, nobody sat with me either. But I actually enjoyed this time. I got better grades, I had a better bond with my family, and I finally felt solace in solitary.

After my bullies felt bad and decided to forgive me, I fell right back into seeking their approval. This time, it was all about who was prettier, and they made me feel like I was ugly. I started hating the way I looked, even though I wasn't always chubby. But they called me fat, turned my name into a joke, and I never stood up for myself. I brushed it off as just jokes between friends.

In 8th grade, I was thrilled at the thought of changing schools and cities. But my school wouldn't give me a transfer, so for six months, I had to travel back and forth just to attend classes. During this time, I got close to the librarian, who also wanted to move but couldn't. She started bringing me lunch since my family was too busy in the mornings, and spending time with her in the library became my refuge.

She found out I loved dancing and convinced me to perform again, even though the last time I did, I was insulted by some kids. This time, though, I joined a team of like-minded students, and we practiced sufi kathak together. My newfound confidence didn't sit well with my bullies, but I didn't care.

On the day of our performance, the applause filled me with pride. But then, as I was leaving with my family, my supposed friends ignored me and called me names, right in front of everyone. It hurt a lot, but I decided I wouldn't waste any more time on them.

I went back to school, hung out with my dance buddies and my favorite teacher, and focused on my studies. After our successful performance on Sports Day, we tackled the Annual Day with a theme on 'Crime against women.' The audience loved it, and we even got a chance to compete in a city-wide competition.

Just as things were looking up, I found out my transfer was approved. It was bittersweet – finally leaving behind the bad memories but also saying goodbye to the good ones. But I threw myself into the competition, and we ended up winning.

Starting at my new school, I finally realized what it felt like to be respected and loved. I didn't make a ton of friends, but I understood that what I went through in my old school wasn't normal. I didn't realize it was bullying at the time, but looking back, it's clear as day. And while some people wish to go back to their childhood, I'd rather face adulthood head-on than relive those memories.

If you or somebody you know is being bullied or experiencing any other form of abuse, please seek the help you need from our experts on the 'Engage' vertical or talk to a trained listener on the 'Support' vertical.  

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