I was born active. I could see things. I could intake the fragrances of the flowers and plants around me. Saffron and Lavender; the scent of those two plants give me the energy to run and play. I pet the neighbors dog as it wags its tail. I scratch Mrs. Kingsley’s cat behind the ear and she would chuckle. I could feel things with the touch of my fingertips. I can taste the food of my mother and my grandmother. The cinnamon and pine nuts fill the kitchen atmosphere. My mouth waters as fresh lotus root curry is placed in front of me. I can do all these things but listen. I cannot hear. I am not like any of the children who are normal. I am a little girl who communicates with her hands. I am what the community calls a silent lotus. The name comes from the same childrens book I have read. I have longed to hear. The chance to hear sound would be a great opportunity for me. I also want to speak as well. People should know that I am not dumb. Deaf is not a disease. Being hearing impaired is not a curse. I don’t have to “struggle.” I am every bit of normal and confident. I have the potential to do things. But I could not “voice” my opinions because I could not speak or hear.

            My father tries to elaborate to my mother but it was no use. When my mother heard my doctors explain, she looked at me. Her face was depressing. Her brown hazel eyes fixiated on the little deaf girl. She wondered if the gods had cursed her with a mute daughter. She still questions herself if it was worth it giving birth. Thankfully I cannot hear her insults. I just look at her and pretend I am listening. But that does not help much. I can tell what her mood was just by her facial expressions. When she smiled, she was happy. When she frowned, she was disappointed. All my childhood, I could always tell how my parents felt. Whenever they came home, they would show their emotions. I could read their lips, well, a little.