In the still of the night and the noise of the day...

This is for my little daughter. Or son.

I didn't give my name for the Blank Noise Project coz I never wanted to write about it. Writing, talking, reading about IT meant dealing with skeletons in the closet; Handling truths I'd rather not remember. Realising I never really forgot them. But some ghosts need closure. In some way.

One can no longer argue that the girl invites such harassment with her attire and attitude. If no, then please tell me what did a 10 year old girl in pigtails and school uniform have that his wife couldn't offer? Dammit! I didn't even have breasts. So what was he groping and searching for? And why was he panting in my ears and trying to push himself onto me? And why didn't my mom ever tell me that it was wrong even for old men to touch me? Even if they looked like Grandpa coz Grandpa would never, ever do such a thing.

If strangers touching you is bad, then what is worse is when someone you know, someone your family trusts, gropes you. When he gives your mother more work and makes her stay late in office and comes home early in his old scooter and sends you out to buy biscuits for him, only to wait by the dark staircase and grope you. And you don't know what to tell your mother about her Manager and stay quiet. Till that day when you grow up and realise what he did was wrong but it's too late to scream or shout.

And you want to know the worst? When a 13 year old boy accosts you in your silent neighbourhood on your way home and flashes his organ and asks you to taste it. Fuck you! I am 1o years older to you. You are like my kid brother and why do you have such raging hormones? And you go home and cry nonstop and all your parents can ever say to your tormented 23 year old self is, "Don't walk alone by that road. Appa will come and pick you up from the bus stop."

In fact that incident only made my father more protective. More restrictions on movies seen at Sathyam Theatre coz girls get assaulted there and not a soul would come to help. In fact, i went out only if I was picked up and dropped back home by my friends. Else i made conversation with my 4 walls.

But what do you do when you're stranded in a bus stop in another city? Why wasn't Appa around when strange men asked me how much i charge for the night? Why didn't they go away even after i glared and swore at them? Why didn't my auto-driver show up early to pick me up? Why do i feel responsible for that night? Since when did 7pm become late night?

It isn't easy to pick yourself up and make it whole again. It was never easy. It took me years to learn to trust men. I can't say I trust them now, except for the few I have in my life. There was a stage in my life when I didn't want to marry. And if I did, i wanted to keep my husband away from my child coz my little heart felt that it was the sight of young girls in pretty frocks and rabbit teeth that corrupted older men. Even if they are good.

For every ~A who will walk by my side in crowded streets, with his arm two inches behind my shoulder so no one would dare fall 'unintentionally' on me, there was an Asshole to undo the strength I built up.

For every ~K who walked an extra mile just to drop me home safely even if it was only 8pm, there was a married Slimeball who sat smiling across the table, in bright offices telling me how my butt doesn't shake when i walk. How my lips are good and pretty. And he hadn't yet celebrated his first wedding anniversary.

For all the ~Rs who stood up for me when a fellow 'friend' looked down my blouse, there were a million others trying to put their hands down it.

You can live with all this, you can survive every single painful past, if at that soft moment when a loved one touches you, you melt just like the heroine in those romantic novels you so diligently read but instead your body stiffens and you want to scream. Scream for all those moments when you didn't shout. Scream for all those little girls and little boys. Scream for yourself. And then you hate yourself coz you are being denied something becoz some other fool took away something that wasn't his. That never was. Your innocence and your trust.

There are days when i scrub myself hard hoping I would never see those invisible marks. I would gladly forgive those demented souls if only I can forget. But I can't and hence i won't.

I don't know how this post can change men. Maybe it won't.
But this I promise, my little son will never touch your little girl in a manner he shouldn't.

Update:
Here are more excellent and poignant posts that continue to shed light on this menace.


Psst:
Yes, it took me courage to write this.
No, I am not fishing for sympathy.
Yes, I would like it if you understand what I am trying to convey and pass on the wisdom you gained.
No, i don't hate you but you still have to sit 2 feet away from my kid.