The Standing Ovation

25 July 2019

Tonight, I sneak a peek into my childhood and try to look for the shy, awkward, rather – you – not – notice – me – at – all girl that I once was. I see her quite clearly, hiding behind her mother. Hoping the person across would not force her to step out and say Hello. It was not something I liked. Talking to people, let alone engaging them in a conversation.

Today morning, that same girl couldn’t stop talking. In a class full of 30+ odd strangers. Standing there alone, in front of a classroom. Not hiding behind someone. Not trying to make a run for it. And not fumbling with her words.

It was a moment that left me pleased with myself. There are quite a number of moments (thankfully!) when I am just plain happy with myself, but today was something altogether different. I am thrilled to bits, at how confidently I spoke, how fluently my thoughts flowed and how at ease I was in front of so many eyes.

I remember how butterflies used to run rampant in my stomach each time I was pushed forward to speak to someone. How my only real contribution toward all my fancy dress appearances was a twirl upon the stage and a weepy smile. How even a phone call to a customer care centre had me hitting the End Call button even before the first ring had gotten through. I was happy in my own world; the world of books and make – believe friends.

I don’t really know when the transition really began to happen within me. I think it started the first time my mother enrolled me in a Communication Skills class. The teacher – Mrs. Bharucha – was a Godsend for me. Soft-spoken but firm in her way of pulling each one of us up. I was perhaps the shyest of them all, marvelling at how easily the others stood up and improvised in front of the class. However what I didn’t realise was that meanwhile, Mrs. B was instilling a quiet confidence in me.

For what I lacked in confidence, she showed me that I had in terms of language abilities. I was good in English; quick with my vocabulary and comfortable with expression of thought. She pointed out this skill and left me to deal with it. What she didn’t realise then, way back in 2005, was that she had just whipped up a thunderstorm in my mind.

Things quickly began to fall in place after that. I got pushed into lots of opportunities that required me to address people. Engage them into conversations. Instill confidence in them. Eventually even stand up and reprimand them.

Each time I saw so many judgemental eyes staring back at me. Each gaze waiting to see whether I would be good enough. Each smirk ensuring I falter. Each encouraging smile only making me feel all the more queasy.

And then one day, magic happened. By some twisted turn of fate, my boss asked me to address the school orientation meetings. Well, there I was…content to be even addressing a class of 40 toddlers on my own….and here she was, telling me (quite calmly too!) that I was to address ONLY about 400 parents?!

I denied flat out. Claimed I suffered majorly from stage fright. Tried to weasel out by pushing someone else to take my position. But she stood her ground. And for that, I shall remain eternally grateful.

For as I stood there, no more hiding behind my mother but finding solace behind a podium, the halogen lights ensuring I literally wet myself, I remembered that confidence Mrs. B had in me. And a shy smile lit up my face all of a sudden. I was fluent in English! I knew that if I opened my mouth to speak, my thoughts and words would work in sync. And so I did….open my mouth and speak for the next half an hour without a falter, without a break.

When the halogen lights blind you, you see no audience. You only see their blinking eyes. An eerie sight, to be honest. But when those eyes smile back at you, you start to really feel the audience. You see them place their trust in you, you watch them clap for you and you notice them whispering to each other about you.

Only this time your trembling knees help you stand taller. You still hide behind the podium but your head is held higher. And so a journey that started in a small classroom under Mrs. B’s guidance finds its culmination in yet another classroom where I stand in her place.

I speak, like addressing a random group is an everyday thing for me. I sell, because I am passionate about what I speak. I connect, as my gaze conveys I was in their place once too. I sigh with relief, as I realise the butterflies still run amok in my stomach, but now only to keep me grounded.

I smile, as I end my “talk” and am greeted with a standing ovation…

It is a start. Of a journey. One that I started with stage fright and that finds itself centre stage today. Not really loving the limelight but enjoying my time under the spotlight!