My mother unsurprisingly came and unsurprisingly the students who witnessed the whole incident sided with the bullies. I was not only deemed as a liar for defending myself with words, I was also labeled as a troublemaker. A troublemaker who is craving attention.
And the words craving for attention didn't sit well with my mother.
I was once again dragged back home and this time, she took my belt and started beating the crap out of me while she yelled at me.
"You are causing so much trouble, why did I give birth to someone like you? All you had to do so is not cause any trouble and study properly. But you couldn't even do that.
I have to do all the housework, I have to go to my job to feed you, and also have to take care of all your other needs. But even that is not enough for you. I must have been a sinner in the past life to have a husband like that and a son like you. You are just like your father."
All the scolding entered my head and each word is being repeated over and over again. Only one sentence among them made me angrier. I became angry not at my mom, not at my teacher, or even at the bullies.
"You are just like your father."
At that time, I don't know if I loved my father, but I definitely never looked up to him. The way he behaved and the things he did, made me believe that he is not a good man, and my mother's angry outbursts and yells at him made me realize that she hates him to the core.
There is one thing in the world I am sure of and that I don't like being hated by my mother and I would do anything for that. Not being like my father was one of them.
So, when my mother said that I was just like him,I felt like the beating I am taking is entirely deserved. I felt like I needed those beatings to atone for being like my father.
As for why I didn't consider the possibility of my mother being wrong and arguing back, the reason is simple.
I was eleven and for me, everything my mother said was right.
From that very night, I was on a new quest. Be likable, put in your maximum effort so that you would be likable by your mother.
I went so far as to note down things my mother liked and disliked.
She didn't like it when I cried.
She didn't like it when I was late for school.
She didn't like it when I don't finish my lunch.
She didn't like to wash clothes, so I tried my best to not dirty them.
She didn't like to do the dishes.
She liked it when I get first in my class.
I literally made the list of all those things in my notebook and started striving for that.
Every day, I woke up earlier, studied relentlessly, and got ready without her help, so that she can relax a bit, I went to school on time and tried to stay out of trouble as much as I can. Try to listen to the teacher no matter what they said in class. I didn't stay to play with the rest of the children after school. Since I was not welcomed, I stopped trying to impress them.
And for some reason, I was peaceful at school too. No one tried to bother m. But they were all a bit more annoyed. I didn't play out in recess and ran home fast after school, I finished my lunch faster than before, so that I could study.
For a few days, I was a model student and the next midterm exams happened. I topped my class and this time, the margin between me and the second place is large.
I was ecstatic. I took my report card to my mother. We wouldn't just be given grades we will also be given marks we got in the exams.
I scored well in Math, science, English and all the other languages. I actually scored full marks in all the subjects.
But one subject among them. The social studies. I scored 89 out of hundred on it.
The main reason for that is I was not interested in the said subject. I don't like remembering dates, and geography, and I hate politics, I really wanted to ignore it, but I had to please my mother. So, I did my best. And still, it was not enough to cross the barrier.
I looked at my mother waiting for praise, at least a smile, all I saw was a frown.
"Why did you lose eleven marks in social studies? Did you not study?"
I didn't know what to say. I stayed silent. I don't even know what my reaction is supposed to be. All the hard work led to a question.
I took a deep breath and said.
"I topped my class."
But the next reply made me feel even more lost than before.
"So, what? It still doesn't change the fact that you didn't do well in social studies. Go and study more. Don't be a waste like your father."
She signed the report card and just passed it back to me. I was lost and I stuttered as I asked.
"Mother, Did I do good?"
I directly asked expecting an acknowledgment of my effort. But I realized even that is too much to ask.
"Not good enough."
Those words rang in my mind for days.
"Not good enough."
I grew to hate those three words so much in life that whenever I hear them I want to destroy something.
The next day, I went to school as usual and tried harder. Being not good enough is not my plan. I studied harder.
But after recess, I noticed that my bag was ransacked.