She was intimidated, was utterly coiled in pain. The twinge of mournful soul was dripping down perpetually from her eyes. Suddenly when she raised her face, off the crossed limbs, she wiped her salty howl and again she made a crossed shuck around her udder and moved ahead with her “adolescence sac” (meant for unforgettable positive memories), full of mundane brusque reminiscence and learnt ‘how she is not “Safe” on this bestial globe’.
I was standing right there on the opposite lane, would had helped her when that lusty-varmint had squeezed her teats with so much of hardness, but I did not. I had got swirl attack, my eyes were wet, had tried hard to not let that pain to hover over my painful thoughts again. I failed, that giant drop eventually fallen off from those red edges. The story of all girls in India follows the same strings.
Those surly touches, pricking on privates and nights become more horrible for all those little nymphs (if I won’t consider sodomy, as the number is still so low as compared to female child molestation). For some they are little fairies, for some princess, for some a living sex-toy? I did not get molest just on roads, I being molested number of times, domestically. I was 6 , That night I was sleeping, was dreaming high in my half unconscious mind but wasn’t that sleepy to not feel what’s crawling over my skin, I woke up and he patted my chest to made me sleep. Again, the sense of those mild touches was increasing its pace right down in between my thighs. I was too small to understand those touches but my body reacted to save me a bit from his wildness but that tightness was transient. He stretched and the flicking process had started gaining pace, as the swiftness was getting high on vigor, the flicking was converting into painful, rashes creating intense movement. I woke up and he in acted that he is sleeping. I moved towards my aunt and yes, I was hurt.
I was hurt up to that extent that it was such an arduous task to even pee. Now I think, I would had shared that with my mom at that very moment but I couldn’t collect that much chivalry to convey what had happened with me last night? And who did? And till now it’s a secret. Those afflictive touches and the process of molding were happening coextensively as per the societal code of ethics because I was growing in a male dominating society, in male’s word – I was on my “blooming stage”. My teats were visible; my body was getting those feminine curves in a way, for some lusty-stalwarts those feature were invitations for their ‘satiety fete’. I was tormented by many, many of eve-teasers some pinched my nipples, some clutched my butt, some tried to be pubic lover, some being rubbing-worms to crawl over my back and ergo I was taught to cover those yummy-dainty for instance- duppatta to cover breast, not to wear short and tight clothes like frock, jeans, knickers. The best way to not be a gasconade is by wearing suit with duppatta.
Now, I have grown up till now I think, I remember, I feel that pain. Those phases are still raw and rife in my dark room. “an innocent has nothing to fear”- this adage completely goes into a failure pit when it comes in Indian aspect, here only an innocent has to fear , they has fear from known, friends, uncle, brother and specially has fear from the outside male hominoids .
“It was dark, I was scared, wanted someone to be there
The hell of past was pushing me again,
The door of fear was gulfing me again
Caged soul was feeding on greedy tract
Now, Least in emotions, least on proposition
Ready to start the war of revenge
It was dark and I was scared….”