Mistaken Silence

The midwife lifted the baby boy in her arms. Light fell on the child and the big mole on the right cheek was thrown into sharp relief. From what she knew about moles she said:"The world will take him right"-the first time he was mistaken. As an infant he used to cry very little,he was told later. Every time her beloved child cried the mother took it for call of hunger, but inside it was the cry for words, for language, to be formed on the tongue, not milk. The father lend his arms for the child to help him into the world.Each time the child fell down the father thought that the baby will learn from his mistakes. But years took for the comprehension to come that the child is a slow learner.
The child was named after one of his ancestors, nothing new, everything attributed by someone. The age came when he could sit on a chair with his feet on firm ground. The scene changed to that of teachers and classmates, desks and benches. The teachers thought they handed him the end of toy lines, but what he caught was the pearls that came from their lips-some sparkling, others which he had to polish by himself. He thought that the toys had grudge on him because he did not treat them well. Like a revenge the toys inflicted a curse upon him-others counted him among the plastic toys. Strings were attached around his neck too, he was pulled around and made a 'cluck-cluck' noise when he rolled around.
Then came a time when mirrors and combs came around onto the stage.It was from then on that
he knew that his signals were misinterpreted.His silence was taken for dumbness and his talks for a joke. People condemned his habit of biting nails but the  boy whose mind was crying never wanted his comfort to be pointed out as a 'bad habit'. At nights he dreamed.On a particular nigh t he was speaking, speaking to many in truly inspirational words. A few nodded and his heart leapt "At least there are a few".Fired off by the words they ran away,"maybe to make a better world" he thought.Hearing gasping breath he turned around. They were back with bloodied hands and yelled together "Like you said we killed him". He looked down on his stabbed heart and with shaking hands drew the dagger off. When he woke up the last words in the dream stood clear "You got me wrong".
The mom and dad looked back and knew why the child had cried  each time as an infant and why he had fallen down. But knowing and accepting are two different things. A picture pasted permanently to the wall of mind-the midwife was wrong.