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| intoday.in/indiatoday |
The Delhi gang rape case shook me terribly. Was it just the
act, the brutality, the extensive media coverage or the re-runs of the heinous
act in my own head, I am not entirely sure. I could not bear the pain. Lying on
my bed, I would cry, many a times. I lay numb for 2 days without food. Staying
hungry wasn't a choice I made, would you eat? Would you be able to, if this had
happened to someone dear to you, your sister, brother, mother, father,
daughter, son, friend, anyone close to you? This pain was personal, as pain
always is. Violating someone is the worst act a degraded soul can commit. Being
violated, like any other experience, is easier to relate to if you have been
subjected to it.
I woke up crying today, a
hollow cry. Without a sound, only tears rolling down my cheeks, my facial
expression being that of repeated yawns. (It’s now early morning when I
finally decide to wake up and write my story, half asleep, half awake, still
crying.) The images are fresh, as though it happened last night.
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| young me |
Images of my
shorts being removed. There is a glee on the Uncle’s face. He is excited. It’s about
3 in the afternoon but the room is dark, owing to the heavy drapes. It’s cold
in January. He is kissing me. My body is cold and immovable. He makes me hold
his limp. I am unsure why I should hold it. But he gets angry when I take my
hands off. I am scared. He enjoys it. I keep staring at him. I am uncertain
about what’s happening. He goes down and starts to play with my susu. It’s
dirty. But he is sucking it like a lollipop I don’t know why. He hugs me and
lies down tight. It’s an ordeal that lasts an hour. He threatens me not to tell
my ma. It becomes a routine. When Dad’s away at work, Mom’s in school, Didi is
yet to get back from school too. I am still young and have only half
day of school. I somehow hated this Uncle. I wanted to leave this Kohti.
It was only until very recently
that I happened to recall this incident. How would I have even known what had
happened to me? I was hardly 7. It’s only now that I can comprehend what a
bastard my parents trusted me with. He was supposed to be one of our own, responsible
to ensure I ate my lunch after school. Yes, lunch. He was to take care of
me in my parents’ absence. Yes, care. “Son of a bitch” is all that comes to my
mind. Have I been able to forgive him? Consciously, it never mattered to me, as
I wasn't even part of the act. Subconsciously, NO. Do I want to kick him in the
groin? YES. What would you suggest? Should I literally give him the other cheek
as "our Lord Jesus Christ" said? No, Sir. Thanks for the advice, but
not for this. He violated me. He violated a child.
The trauma will stay forever.
Don’t know how many more times I would wake up with these images! Let go, you
would say. Get lost, would be my response.
I am scared again. This guy
would be ~50 years old. I wonder how many kids he would have violated by now.
I want to speak to my parents about it. I want to find out who he was, where he is and talk
to him. Share the pain he caused me. Perhaps he will understand.
Parents and parents to be, talk
to your kids.
Engage with them.
Would you want your child to wake up, crying?
Engage with them.
Would you want your child to wake up, crying?
