20/05/2025
"The Voice Within"
Aarav always dreaded the sound of his own voice.
Whether it was in school, college, or later in the office, the moment eyes turned toward him, something inside locked up. His heart would race, hands tremble, throat close. Words—so easily available to others—abandoned him when he needed them most.
People saw his silence and judged him. In school, they teased him for being “mute” or “weird.” In college, he became invisible. At work, despite his dedication and talent, promotions passed him by—quiet people, it seemed, weren’t seen as leaders.
What no one knew was that Aarav’s fear began in the swirl of color and noise at a village mela when he was five. One moment, he was holding his mother’s hand. The next—lost. The crowd became a blur, his cries lost in the noise. For what felt like hours, he wandered, terrified, until an announcement echoed through the loudspeakers: “A child named Aarav is missing. If anyone sees him…” Minutes later, someone found him and brought him to the stage, where his frantic parents finally arrived.
He was safe. But something inside him stayed behind in that chaos.
That day etched a deep fear of abandonment into his mind. He associated crowds with danger, attention with fear, and speaking with helplessness. He never made that connection consciously—it lived in the shadows of his subconscious.
Years later, tired of feeling stuck and ashamed, Aarav decided to seek help. Therapy wasn’t easy. At first, he couldn’t even describe his fears. But through patient, consistent sessions, something began to shift. As therapist we helped him revisit the lost child in the mela. Through inner child work and subconscious healing techniques, Aarav slowly untangled the knots that had silenced him for decades.
He realized he wasn't “broken”—he was scared. And the fear had a reason.
Bit by bit, he learned to speak again—not just aloud, but for himself. In small meetings, then in team presentations, then at a conference where, for the first time, he spoke without shaking. The applause was gentle, but the real triumph was internal.
Now, Aarav lives a life that once felt impossible. He leads a team, not with volume, but with clarity. He speaks when it matters. He no longer avoids crowds, and the fear of being lost has faded into memory—not erased, but healed.
He didn’t find his voice overnight.
But he found it.
And now, he uses it.
