The Tale of a Teen Who Loses Her Temper And Learns the Most Important Lesson of Her Life

An incident that happened in my tenth grade changed my life forever. I used to have one of those volatile tempers. At one point, it looked like it might cost me my future.

It was lunch time in school that day. I usually sat under a tree near the playground and had my lunch. That day was no different. I placed my lunch bag next to me and just as I was opening my lunchbox, thudding steps brushed past me and I felt a spray of sand all over.

"Hey!" I yelled at that girl, Kirtana. She was the one who had just kicked sand on me and almost stamped on my lunch bag as she sprinted away. "Don't you have eyes? Can't you see I am eating here?" I cried out.

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew she would come back. Kirtana was a year senior to me, and she was known to have an attitude.

"Hello! You're not supposed to eat here, near the playground. Who asked you to sit here?" she retorted.

"No rule says I cannot sit here. I can eat wherever I want," I replied promptly. I never did like Kirtana!

"Go ahead and eat! Anyway, that stuff looks like sand, and you look like you have sand in your mouth and sand on your face," she said and burst out laughing. Her friend, Ruby, joined in the laughter.

That's it. I lost it. My mind was seething with thoughts. They have gone too far! How dare they mock me? Who are they to laugh at me?

Something snapped inside me as I shot up and punched Kirtana in the stomach really hard! I can't describe what happened next. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Kirtana doubled over and fell with a thud. Her head hit a sharp stone on the ground. Blood started oozing out from the bump on her head. There she was, lying on the ground holding her tummy, face scrunched up, eyes tightly shut, making weird moaning sounds.

Ruby gasped and knelt next to Kirtana, shouting something I could barely hear. Then, some of my classmates and eventually my teacher came running and picked up Kirtana. As all this unfolded before my eyes, I just stood there, frozen on the spot. I couldn't move. I felt like I had been punched.

I didn't mean to do it, it was a mistake! I was screaming with my whole body and mind, but I couldn't get myself to say those words. I just couldn't say it.

I was taken in to meet the principal. I was tongue-tied and couldn't utter a word to her. How could I, when I was getting the scolding of my lifetime! I was scared out of my wits, not knowing if I had killed a girl. I don't want to go to jail was the thought running through my head.

My parents were called in. They listened astutely to the principal and promised they would speak to me. The drive back home was painful as we rode in silence. My parents didn't say a word. Had they just shouted at me, I would have had some reason to justify my act. It was weird sitting in that silence, in fact, nerve-racking.

Once home, however, they had a lot to say. They were furious! They kept telling me how much it takes to send me to a good school, and they kept asking me if this was how I planned to repay them. It was painful. I tried to explain to them what had happened and why I was provoked to act that way. But my mother kept telling me repeatedly to think about the consequences of my actions. And the consequences loomed large in front of me, haunting me with the thought, 'What if she died?'

Then, my father said something that I can never forget. He said, "Anger is like fire, extremely useful when you keep it under control, but if you allow it to rage, it will consume you and everyone else too."

What he said made perfect sense. But I continued to defend my act to myself. Was I not provoked? Why was I being blamed when she was the one who made me act that way? She sprayed sand on my food, and taunted me, didn't she?

I couldn't sleep that night. I kept replaying the scene over and over in my mind. I knew I would probably face suspension from school and maybe a jail term if she died. I felt I was living a nightmare, a horror movie of my own making.

Please, God, let Kirtana live, I prayed and prayed that night. Then I picked up a notebook to write down my prayer. While I was writing these words, I felt a sudden urge to draw fire. I picked up some colours and started drawing a raging fire, a bushfire, and my picture filled the entire page. As my hand coloured the fire red, yellow and white, I slowly began to feel a deep calmness within me.

I remembered my father's words, "Control the fire".

I turned the page and drew another fire. This time, a small one, like the one we light when we go camping, a small fire with people sitting around and singing. That's when the penny dropped for me. I realised my thoughts and feelings were like fire within me, and I was in control of what I think and feel. Instead, I had given my control away. I had supplied Kirtana sticks to fuel my fire! No matter how much she provoked me, I could have found another way to respond, rather than react the way I did.

I finally went to bed around 4 a.m., much calmer than before. In the morning, I was ready before my mother could wake me up. I knew what I wanted to do. I asked my mother to take me to the hospital where Kirtana was being treated. I met Kirtana and her parents. Kirtana's bruise on her head needed a few stitches and her stomach was sore, phew! But she was recovering and was much better. I apologised to all of them.

We then went to the school to meet my principal. She listened patiently to what I had to say about losing my control. She even explained that teenage is a period of rapid growth and development, emotional and physical, and that could have also been the reason for my sudden spike in anger. She said if I learn to take control of my emotions now, I will find it easier to build relationships and face the world outside as an adult. I felt much better after talking to her. I felt understood. I was let off with a warning not to repeat the behaviour. I thank my stars even today for what seemed like a nightmare, which soon turned into a life lesson.

Somehow my father's words and my attempt at drawing it out, helped me immensely. I went back home that day and drew another picture. This time, I drew myself with a small fire in my heart and a matchbox in my hand. I wanted it to be a reminder that I held the control (the match) in my hand! For a long time, I had it pinned on my reminder-board in my room.

Teen years can be pretty tumultuous and mine were no exception. But this was one incident that prompted me to change. I can never forget that a rash act of mine could have cost a life and cost me my future. So, if you are ever provoked, don't just react in anger. Instead, Pause to gain control over your emotions, Think about what you want to say or do, and Respond thoughtfully.

Sowmya Srinivasan is a professional storyteller and educator and a founding member of the Bangalore Storytelling Society. A keen blogger and a mother of two, Sowmya holds an MPhil in psychology and uses stories as an instrument of healing. Follow her at: http://ssstoryteller.blogspot.com/?m=1.