I Am Short, But I Am Deep

You know what most people notice first about me?
Not my voice.
Not my thoughts.
Just… my height.

“Oh my god, you’re so tiny!”

Every. Single. Time.

At this point, I just smile and say,
“Yeah, I stopped growing vertically, so I started growing emotionally.”

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But truth be told, being short is a whole experience.

It comes with its own list of everyday adventures and a few unexpected embarrassments.

Like during the Ganpati miravnuk.
The energy, the colours, the music; everyone was so hyped about the pathak performance. I was, too.
But guess what I saw?

Nothing.
Just flags, backs, and tall heads. No dhol. No dancers. No drama.
I jumped, tiptoed still couldn’t see a thing.

Or that poetry competition I participated in once.
The mic stand was taller than me, and the podium?  It looked like it was giving the speech on my behalf. From the audience’s view, I was probably just a talking file.

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And yet, I smiled.
I still stood up.
I still spoke.

Because I’ve realized something:

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I may be short.

But I am not small.

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People assume “short” means delicate, soft, quiet, less.
But they don’t see the world I carry inside.

I may not be loud, but I’m present.
I may not be tall, but I’ve stood strong through storms.
I may not fill a room, but I read it deeply.

I feel intensely.
I overthink, not because I’m weak, but because I care.
I notice little things. I remember long-lost details. I sense what’s not said.

My kindness doesn’t shout but it stays.
My silence isn’t empty, it’s full of stories.

So no, I may not reach the top shelf.
I may disappear in a crowd.
I may hide behind a podium...

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But I’ll never be small where it truly matters.

Because I am short.
But I am deep.
And that’s my favourite kind of height.

You don’t need to be tall to take up space.
Some people are oceans in teacups.