| Brilliant white sunlight penetrated through the glass windows into the assembly hall. A scrawny man ascended the stage. He was Mr Ashraf, the principal of the school. "Finally, the debate day is here when students clash with each other using words, their confidence joust and armours of intelligence smash but ultimately only one emerges as the winner," he excitedly began, rather sounding like describing In midst of the hundreds of students stood Ali, his legs shaking involuntarily. He was hardly listening to the principal. He knew his name would be announced in just a few minutes and he would be face-to-face with his worst fear — the fear of speaking in "Ali Omar, our first contestant. Please come on the stage," the principal called, rubbing his palms together in extreme thrill. Ali was caught unaware. "Right now?" he exclaimed with bulging eyes, as he wiped off his forehead with his sleeves. His mind had not yet conquered his heart which was beating incessantly, the sweat in his hands had not dried up and his legs were still shivering as though a giant was trying to move the earth beneath his feet. He walked through the narrow passage between rows, with all eyes upon him as though each was a searchlight. He kept his gaze down. He did not want the smirk on his opponents' faces to make him nervous. He climbed the steps with great difficulty, as if all his energies were seeping from his body. He wanted to retreat at once. He was finally on the stage. His stared right ahead. "Come forward, Ali," the principal said with gritted teeth, which apparently showed Ali's apprehension was testing every ounce of patience he possessed. Ali inched forward and gripped the mike with both his hands. The debate began. The panel of judges sat on the table in the front. One of them straightened a paper, which Ali reckoned was a list of topics. "Your topic is…" one of the judges began. Ali suddenly felt hollow. A heavy, dead weight cascaded down his throat. His nerves were throbbing, unable to bear any more "Fears — are they real or a figment of imagination?" he announced the topic. "Your time starts now." His mind raced. He had to take either side of the argument. "Neither," he began, and words came out of his mouth as suddenly as a flash of light. The judges looked at him enigmatically. Some students giggled. "B-Because…" he hesitantly proceeded. The lump in his throat was heavier than ever. "It takes words to be a good debater," Ali spoke with defiance. The judges were confused, some of them thought Ali had lost it completely. "I have always feared public speaking since I was a kid. But I'm here, debating, fighting for my school's prestige not because some unknown force helped me but because my mind found a voice to speak through, my heart conquered my fear and I found the right words at the right time. When I climbed the stage, the fright rose in a crescendo. A deadly sensation surged through my nerves at the thought of speaking before so many people. I asked myself, does it has a shape, a frightening dark "The regular sessions at institutes which merely made me cram the 'how-to-be-confident' lessons did not stir my soul. But then I realised if any mortal could help, it was me. And as I quit underestimating myself, the fear vanished as soon as it had appeared. It was a revival. And you know when did this happen? Right now, when I climbed up the stage for the first time and faced the audience. I felt fearless for the first time in my life. I read once 'Your worst enemy is not defeated when you think of him, but when you face him'. I just experienced this." Ali confidently ended his argument. The judges stared at him, transfixed. There was a long pause. Ali stood on the stage, almost gasping. Absolute calm enveloped the otherwise noisy hall. A roar of applause shattered the silence. The students cheered, whooping loudly for him. The judges beamed. Ali was rooted to the stage, this time not due to fear but euphoria. |
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