Talent Doesn’t Need Permission: My Journey Through Open and Closed Doors

Talent doesn’t ask who you are. It just shows up.

It grows quietly, passionately, whether people believe in you or not.

But in my journey as a deaf individual with a cochlear implant, I’ve learned one thing very clearly: having talent isn’t always enough.

You still have to fight just to be allowed to use it.

Over the years, I’ve embraced many talents.

Dance was my first love. I performed on a college stage at just four years old and formally joined Bharatanatyam at seven. Now, with 15 years of experience, I’ve danced on stages across four colleges, seven schools, temples and even Nehru Stadium. Along the way, I explored folk, Kuchipudi, Mohiniyattam, and Western styles, and won more than ten prizes.

At ten, I joined a drawing class. One of my artworks was proudly pinned to the school notice board. At twelve, I started learning the keyboard (musical instrument). I even trained in singing first at six years old, and again between 11 and 15  but after my voice changed, I had to step away.

I didn’t stop there.

I passed three Hindi exams. I learned German at 18 and picked up Kannada from my family. I acted. I delivered speeches. I presented on childhood cancer. I performed in dramas and won prizes for all of it. I participated in sports too, collecting prizes along the way.

 

But still, many doors were closed, not because of lack of skill, but because of assumptions.

I wanted to join Scouts and Guides.

They said no, because the group would travel to other destinations and stay for three to four days.

They assumed I couldn’t manage that with my hearing condition.

I wanted to learn Karate.

They said no, fearing that my implant might fall off during training.

Then came the struggle for my driving license.

The medical board tested me and approved me. They said I was fit. But at the RTO office, that wasn’t enough. The officers made me count the number of claps behind me. They asked basic questions like “What are you studying?” and “Did you have breakfast?” I answered four out of five, yet they still hesitated. I stood firm. I argued. Finally, after discussing with higher officials, they allowed me to get a two-wheeler license, but told me to return after three years if I wanted a four-wheeler.

And during one of my semester examinations, something happened that truly shook me.

I was writing my paper, focused and calm.

Suddenly, a staff member walked up to me and removed my cochlear implant, without even asking.

I froze.

How could someone do that in the middle of an exam? I couldn’t hear a thing. I was angry, helpless. She didn’t allow me to continue. Instead, she contacted my class advisor to confirm. Only after that was I allowed to continue. But the damage was already done. My concentration, my rhythm gone.

This is what people don’t always understand.

Being talented doesn’t mean I’m always allowed to use my talent.

Having a cochlear implant doesn’t mean the world listens to me.

But I still move forward. I still create. I still speak through art, dance, music, words, and truth.

🌱 Let this be a reminder.

Deafness doesn’t mean inability.

Cochlear implant users are not fragile.

We are talented, determined, and capable. But the world needs to stop placing limits on us.

Open the doors.

We’re already ready to walk in.