Manraj Singh

Professor McVey

English Composition

15 September 2020

As a child, I’ve always found myself appreciative of the people around me, for they have always spoiled me rotten with their unconditional love and care. To this day, I have always been under the familial protection of my parents and my elder sister, and not a day has gone by where my love for them has ever faded. Atleast, that ​was​ how I felt until one Saturday afternoon.

It was just another one of those cloudy mornings stained throughout the ghetto streets of Queens. Mom and Dad were rather busy with their weekend outings to the supermarket, after dropping my sister off at the newly built gym by our house. That leaves me, all alone, within the comfort of my walls as they sheltered me from the outside world and all of its flaws. It has gotten to the point where I can safely say that a majority of our lives have been spent within these walls; a multitude of memories forged within our minds, with each one bringing us closer together than ever. From the very first moment of me learning how to talk, to handling my very own interview over the phone, it was safe to say that I had grown into an individual who was more than capable of facing the world out on his own.

However, language has always been my limit to all the prodigal achievements I had made. It had always remained as the barrier that kept me from my true potential. There would always be this recurring instance within my life, where I couldn’t come to speak up for myself; whether at home or to the outside world. I remained withdrawn from speaking out to the world for what I had to say and what I truly felt. And so, none of this could’ve been any more clearer than the moment I had found myself entrapped within a fire throughout my home.

On that very afternoon, an unspeakable tragedy occurred within the very walls that I was confined within; a raging mass of fire that grew heavily from the kitchen and spread within complete hostility. Sleeping soundly, I had been unaware and naive to what had happened amidst my slumber, for I never truly expected the same walls that kept me safe, to be my very downfall. It wasn’t until my neighbors had caught a glimpse of the few traces of smoke that leaked throughout the vents, allowing them to act swiftly and come to my rescue. If only they had come in time, before I had the chance to wake up and panic.

It was no doubt that I had truly been scarred from what had happened that afternoon. From what I can remember, I had woken from the vibrations that came from the severe number of phone calls that rang through. Not only, but the voices that echoed from outside my house, and the reckless banging of my door had left me no choice but to panic even further. Promptly, I raced out of my bed, only to find my house engulfed in flames and me within the epicenter of such a disaster. At a moment like this, I found myself struggling to make sense of what was happening. As I’ve never been placed in such a situation like this before, it truly became difficult for me to overcome the panic and anxiety that grew within me. For a moment, I hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do, besides watching the fire take down my house. There I was, staring down at the fire, as it tore down the place where I felt safe the most, for as long as I could’ve. At a loss with words, there was no hope in me being capable of reaching out and yelling for help amidst all this chaos. Just before I knew it, I had lost all sense of consciousness and collapsed inside the living room.

It was crazy knowing how fast things had taken a turn in that hour of tragedy. One moment I had just woken to the fire raging on, and another I was in an ambulance regaining

consciousness. Before I knew it, firefighters and other federal authorities swarmed the block, and had successfully taken control over the fire.

As I opened my eyes, I was finally able to meet my parents and my sister, whose faces were red in complete fear and anxiety. Normally, I had expected myself to reach in and embrace them close to me, for I was in need of their presence at such a time. But for some reason, I couldn’t find myself wanting to be near them. A large part of me had felt so detached with the world, in which I truly had no interest in being around anyone else but myself. As any mother or father would do, mine continued to weigh me down and bombard me with many questions. “Are you okay honey? Is everything alright? Did you get hurt?”were few among the many questions they were repetitively asking. I had never felt such a need to get away from them, then in that very moment. I just couldn’t gather up the courage to speak upon something that brought me such pain and torment. As if that wasn’t enough, federal authorities had also required me to answer a multitude of their questions.

“Alright son, what’s your name? I’m gonna need you to let me know exactly what went down and how the fire started”, said one of the officers. At first, part of me wanted to respond to his questions, and yet somehow I also felt the need to refrain from doing so. There were often these small instances where I began to stutter with each phrase that I tried to relay. “I-i-i-i-i wa-aa-… i-” was the most that I could have managed to bring out. It was as if I had no idea of how to speak to another person or approach them. The fact that, in the moment, I wasn’t able to swiftly respond with “My name is Manraj Singh.” brought severe embarrassment within me. Not being able to utter a single word or phrase to voice myself had honestly left me feeling powerless to the outside world. With this, I gradually grew to isolate myself even further, as if my presence

was no longer of any concern to the world, and I continued remaining silent until my parents took over and answered the officer on my behalf.

It was safe to assume that I wasn’t the same Manraj that everybody knew from before. This comes to hold a significant impact over my life, as it has truly changed my view of the world and about life in general. It had come to the point where I had lost all meaning of what life had been, as I often found myself questioning certain things about life. But as time went on, I learned that denial and ignorance of what had happened will never erase it from existence, and so I had to find a way to channel that very anxiety and trauma. And so, with that I can say that this terrible outcome had influenced me to begin writing upon a whole other level, where I began to voice the things that I couldn’t find myself verbally expressing to anyone. Since then, my attachment to the world of linguistics and writing has grown to newer levels, as my newfound identity began to establish itself into place. Eventually, I had taught myself that nothing is ever truly set in stone, and that life is too short for each and every one of us for me to remain detached from my family. From escaping near death, I believe that this experience has come to change me for the better, as I continue to grow into the individual I aim to become.

Overall Argument: The notion that traumatic experiences can wound the capabilities of an individual, such as their inability of expressing personal speech/dialect.