Story: Ekalavya Finding His Voice

Oh. My. Gosh. There he is. I cannot believe it. He is right in front of me. I never thought this would happen! My idol. My role model. Was there ever a day I didn't look up to him? I honestly can't remember. Oh my gosh. I’m hyperventilating. Ekalavya breathe. Calm down. This is the moment you've been waiting for. Breathe.

As you can tell, I tend to get too worked up about things. You see, I kind of live a lonely life, so when anything remotely interesting happens, I get more excited than usual. The thing about this particular incident though, is that it’s not just a remotely interesting thing. This was the most important day of my life.

Let me rewind for you. I was abandoned as a child. The woman who gave birth to me, whom I refuse to call my mother, left me in front of a fire station. The biggest trauma of this day was I wasn't a newborn baby, I was already a year and a half old: old enough to walk, old enough to know something wasn't right. The constant sirens scared me and I was paralyzed with fear. It wasn't until the sun was setting that someone noticed me in the grass beside the station. But the damage was already done. I was too scared to speak and it wouldn't be until I heard Drona that I would find my voice again.

I was 10 years old when I heard him. I was sitting in my foster family’s living room looking at the collection of CDs when the binding for Drona’s CD caught my eye. It was red and orange and his name had an arrow shooting through the “D”. I read the name of the album in my head, “Arrows through my heart”. 

(Ekalavya's family's CD rack)

I took the CD to my room, closed the door, and carefully placed it in my CD player. His voice was like velvet. He was singing a song to a beautiful girl. He was in love with her but she didn’t love him back and the abandonment and rejection was like arrows through his heart. I started to cry as his comforting voice filled the empty spaces of my room.

I listened to that album over and over again. Every day I woke up and played it. Every night I played it to go to sleep. Drona calmed me and listening to his music gave me a feeling I had never felt before: joy.

One night, during a terrible storm, I shot awake from the thunder crashing outside. I scurried to my CD player and turned the volume up to drown out the noise of the rain. I huddled under the covers a looked up to the ceiling. Cautiously, I opened my mouth. Almost embarrassed, I started to press the words out of my lips. I began singing along with Drona. I had never before uttered a word from those 10-year-old lips. Hearing my own voice scared me and I slammed my mouth shut. But then it opened again, and the words to the song floated off my tongue. I couldn’t stop the words from coming. I didn’t want to. I was singing with my Drona and our voices together shut out the thunder and rain.

The next morning at the breakfast table, I asked my foster mom if she would please pass the orange juice. Her fork hit the plate and she looked at me, eyes as wide as can be and mouth nearly hitting the floor. My foster dad lowered the paper from his face and turned to me. I looked back at them sweetly and my foster mom began to cry. I didn’t really understand what the big fuss was about; I just wanted some orange juice. But deep down, I know they were shocked to hear my voice. I know they have always wanted me to talk, I just really didn’t know how. Until Drona. He gave me my voice.

From that night on, I sang. I think I sang more than I actually spoke. But I was using my voice, the voice I had never heard before. I loved my voice. It made me happy. The vibration feeling that happened deep down every time my ears heard my words excited me and gave me energy. All of my joy, all of my excitement, all of my being was thanks to Drona and his arrows. I vowed that if I ever met him one day, I would do anything and everything he asked as a thank you for giving me life and purpose.

That day had finally come. Drona is standing feet in front of me. My mind is racing. My heart is pounding. I can’t contain myself. “Hi, uh Drona?”

He turned away from the boy he seemed to be consoling. The boy looked about my age, roughly 18, and I think I saw a tear in his eye. I hope he he’s okay. I hate using my voice to interrupt important conversations. “Yes son. What is it?”

“I just wanted to thank you. You have absolutely changed my life. You gave me my voice and it is only because of you that I can speak today. I have devoted my life to learning from you and your songs, not only in how to sing, but the lessons the words of your songs carry. If there is anything I can do for you, I swear to you I will do it, as a token of my appreciation.”

Drona turned to the boy, who I could now tell was crying but they were definitely tears of anger. The boy slightly nodded his head and then Drona looked back at me. With a fixed face he said to me, “I want you to never sing again.”

_____________________

Photo Information:

Stacks of compact disks found on Wikipedia

Bibliography: 

The Mahabharata: Karmic Revolution by Epified TV (India), Episodes 17.

Authors Note:

I was completely moved by Ekalavya's story when watching the Mahabharata episodes.  His complete devotion was only met with rejection and it broke my heart for the character.  I decided to bring his story to the present day and make it even more emotional.  I chose to make Ekalavya a child who was selectively mute.  I once taught a young girl who was also selectively mute as a result of being abandoned as a child and her story has stayed with me ever since.  I wrote Ekalavya's story with her in mind.  He was able to find his voice and one day I hope she is able to find hers.  Also, I chose to end the story where I did because I thought it was more powerful than going back and reviewing Ekalavya's reaction to the rejection.  It leaves the reader with more thoughts and less words, mirroring  Ekalavya's first 10 years of his life.