Today I watched a little boy being bullied. I watched as his tears came rolling down his beautiful brown face, his long eyelashes sticky from all the crying and the colour of his face turning into some shade of pink. But the most painful part for me was that I was numb. I could not say anything. I did not do anything. I watched in silence, cursing the bigger boy in my heart. I don’t know the little boy’s name but in my mind, I named Rohan.

Rohan goes on the same school bus as me. I watch him almost everyday. He’s short, has a huge voice, perhaps the most beautiful eyes ever and an unconventional sense of humour, even though he’s probably just seven or eight. I knew him and I knew the other boy too but I found myself unable to move. I found my lips shivering and my heart racing. But most importantly, I found myself silent when I should have spoken.

I’ve always believed that I should speak up for those who can’t. I have always wanted to be a voice for the voiceless. And today was disheartening, disappointing and mostly just heartbreaking. I can’t stop thinking if Rohan was traumatized or hurt. I can’t help wondering if I could have made a difference and then, I answer myself knowing I could have and I should have.

I read somewhere that the worst regret is not for the things you’ve said, but rather for the things you didn’t say. Guilt seems to be creeping into all the dark places in my heart whispering softly and slowly breaking me. My  mother says, there is no condemnation. I can only learn from this, but all I can think of is Rohan’s big eyes full of tears.

I don’t know if I’ll sleep peacefully tonight, but I know that I need to start speaking up. I will pray for Rohan and his little heart so that it is not hurt beyond repair. I will give this burden up to Jesus, for on my own, I cannot carry this. If I try, I’ll be scared and silent again. Only God can help me and this broken world I live in.

Photo credit: Abdulla Al Muhairi / Foter / CC BY


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