I still remember everything quite clearly. It happened 15 years ago. No matter how many times I try to forget it, it comes back to haunt me, sometimes in my nightmares and at times, on a crowded train platform when unknown men are milling around, waiting to cop a feel. It feels like it happened ages ago and yet it feels like I had to live through all of that only yesterday. I was 10 years old, visiting my grandfather’s estate. A sprawling mansion with gardens surrounding it, I used to love going there. My earliest memories there are of the swing set right in the middle of the garden, which I was never ready to share. That day was no different. The moment we reached, and I leaped out of the car and headed towards the swing set with my sister in tow. She was barely six years old then and in no capacity to push me on the swing. So then began our quest for a grown up who could do that. One of my grandfather’s drivers offered to help and both of us were very happy.
I was sitting on the swing set and he demanded that he would push the swing only if I kiss him on the cheek. At that age, the innocent me agreed to it, and the moment I went for the peck, he kissed me full blown on the lips. I still remember the taste of the paan masala which assailed my senses and made me gag. Scared by the brutal force he used on me, I told him that I didn’t want his help with the swing anymore. He ignored my retort and asked me to sit on the swing. The next thing I knew, his hands were grabbing my butt cheeks. I nearly jumped off the swing to stop it. I grabbed my sister, who had busied herself chasing butterflies and picking flowers, and ran towards the main house, longing to tell someone about it or just cry.
When I reached the house, I found my mother amidst a horde of relatives, all giggling away to glory. I was too scared to make a scene so I kept my mouth shut and had a good cry in the washroom and decided not to tell anyone. That was then.
I don’t think I ever went back to that particular estate after that. My father got transferred shortly, we moved towns and life moved on at a whirlwind pace which took me from town to town, but never back to that particular house. However recently, as fate would have it, I visited the same house again only to come face to face with the guy who forced his lips on me many years ago. He was still a driver under my grandfather’s employment, teeth red with the paan masala he has been chewing for years and hair all gone. Coming face to face with him made me angry again. I wanted to avenge myself and wanted to kill him somehow. I have never stopped regretting the fact that I had not told anybody what he did to me 15 years ago and that it still haunts me. There are times when I yell at myself for not doing anything that day. But this time I had a chance. Even though the whole ‘log kya kahenge’ mentality which runs in my family, kept me from opening my mouth this time as well, I somehow had to avenge the 10 year old me.
He drove me around when I wished to go shopping one day and that is when I took my chance. His hand lay right in between the car door and the hinge, when I slammed it shut. His scream of agony gave me satisfaction like never before. I had shut that door with such a vengeance that he ended up breaking his little finger. I did not apologise, I didn’t regret it for a second. I just felt good because I had hurt him back. I wanted to castrate him for what he had done to me, but I made peace with the fact that I had managed to break one of his fingers.
It’s weird how happy I felt. For a minute I felt like a sadist, but then I really didn’t care. He had taken away an innocent part of me, so the least I could do was return the favour.
Image courtesy: Thinkstock/Gettyimages
More On >> Balancing Act
