Damn Him!

I had to work late, so I stayed back at my parents’ place. It was 10 PM. The door bell screeched. Amma opened the door, a man in early 40s entered.

My face turned cold with the anger. His sight had fanned the dormant flame of ferocity. I stood there staring in his face! Bloody! He did not have the cheek to face me. My body language did lay a guilt trip on him. He lowered his head as he walked past me. (His head was so much bent that he might have licked the floor as he went)

A rush of memories came back to me.

We lived in a rented house. We were the only family who lived in the city. So, any soul from the family who visited the city would find an accommodation in our house.I was an eight year old girl. 

I came back home after playing cricket. (yes, you read that right)

Amma had gone out to bring provisions and vegetables. Then, a man in late twenties came home.A so-called relative. I used to hate this person. During earlier visits, he took me and my brother out to get us juice and chocolates. Then, he used to send my brother home and he tried holding (read touching) me in a wrong way. His grip was too strong for me. I used to shout, or find some other way to run away from him.

I was scared to tell this to my parents. What if they don’t believe me? I did not even know what his intentions were. (There was nothing like sex education then. It was a taboo.) I just knew that I was feeling uncomfortable. Whenever he found me alone, he asked so many questions of which I remember a few like “Do you know the part of my body which can turn hard with your help?” “Do you know why saree is removed in rape scenes?”

I did not know the answers to the questions then. I skedaddled literally.

That day, when he came I ran into the room; started reading some class notes. My brother was also coloring something in his drawing book. He came in, he said, he is the heaviest person there. Both of us ignored his comments. Then, he said he can prove it, he just put me down and fell on me. My brother was just 5 years old then, I don’t know what thoughts came into his mind, he just lifted a small iron chair and he hit on this man’s head! He cried in pain and ran into the bathroom. We both were shit scared, and we ran out of the house and landed in my neighbors’ (we thought he would die :D)

By the time my mother came, things were normal.

In the later days, I somehow managed to keep away from him.

After we moved into our own house, I rarely saw him. I did not attend any of the social gatherings which had a probability of him coming. Years rolled. He has two kids now. Girls!

Now, things make sense. I can comprehend his questions and intentions. I am sad, that I did not tell my parents then. But, I was really scared; of what? I don’t know. But, I am happy, that these incidents did not bear an impact on my innocent brain;to brand the whole male clan as sex-maniacs. I told Amma about the dirty man when I was in 15. She was extremely angry that I did not tell her at the right time.

After thoughts

I really wonder how many girls went through such abuses in mute helplessness. Now, that I have a daughter, I don’t know how and when I should start sex education. I really fret.

Some ideas which I can think of are,

1)      Train her on self defense.

2)      Tell her repeatedly that getting scared or acting like you are scared; is NOT girlish.   

3)      Tell her to keep distance when she talks to men. Not to encourage touch and talk.

4)      Encouraging her to share the most embarrassing moments also with you, may be then we can take them into confidence. (this did not work in my case)

5)      Never let your girl child alone with men (sans really trusted ones like her father)

What else can be done? What do you think I should do that dirty man?