When a woman entrusts a man with her emotional void, makes herself completely dependent on him, with the promise of being lead to ultimate bliss, she gives herself up to another soul. But what happens when that woman is perversely violated by that very man, and she stands up against it, and learns to live again? Society calls it molestation or rape. But it’s not just the body that gets molested, it’s the belief, the trust and the love that gets violated. A scar difficult to forget, yet an experience that transforms a 22-year- old from an innocent, confused, emotional girl to a resolute woman who learns never to be emotionally dependant on anyone ever. Here comes the tale of another vagina that after decades decides to write a letter to the very man who broke her dreams. Today, he is just a name, a coward. Incidentally that woman is me. Here’s a candid account by Blue Eve, in the monthly column, exclusively for Different Truths.
Hi Mr Coward,
Only the other day during a casual adda with a few old colleagues, I heard of you again. Amazingly an involuntary muscle cramped past my vagina and voluntarily I shut my eyes to remember my son’s loving face. Back in India, the country you despised, you have joined some well-known daily in the capital. Last heard of you a decade and a half back when you went around justifying your marriage to a divorced woman with a kid. The same woman whose son you said was sponsored by you. Oh! I was so attracted to your benevolence then and your charitable pursuits. Little knowing you were two-timing and already living together with the child’s mother while you went around with me with a promise of marriage.
But your style of defaming the opponent, for that’s what you made of me after I understood your deception, amused me. I never understood if you felt guilty or worried that I might spill the beans and hence went around defending your marriage? I was the arrogant, wealthy man’s only pampered daughter, who was a dangerous idea for a typical Indian wife. Well, that’s what you told my mother when she asked you when she should fix up our marriage date. Only a few days back you took my parents to meet your mother. Trust me, I never told anyone how you betrayed me, and my parents on whom you had wonderfully created an impression of a responsible would-be son-in- law enticing them during the most vulnerable years of their lives following their son’s death.
I had just lost my younger brother, my parents were in a state of shock, I had to leave my higher studies abroad and also my best friend, who later on married me was away pursuing his ambitions. I had absolutely no one to share my life with, more importantly to share my pain with. I had internalised all of it to keep my parents happy. I could not even cry, else they felt their only surviving child was also unhappy. You were so good at taking care of my emotional void, and how you compared the tale of your cousin brother dying from leukaemia with that of my loss. I thought you were God sent. I was just 21 then and you were eight years older, my perfect saviour.
Well, after you married, many friends who knew you would marry me, asked what happened? I did never malign you, for by then you were but a mirage for me. A coward, who took advantage of my love and trust to try out perverse sexual intimacy someday. And yes I remembered your act every time after marriage in the middle of a physical bliss with a husband, who was the first to teach me what sex was during school days. During our few years of courtship, Mr C, I was never interested in any sexual act with you. I was a confused young woman then, thrown into the cruel world far away from the dreams she had pursued and you made a home in that world with all your sweet and kind words of maturity. And yes, we never had sex, not even a kiss. In those days I was pre-occupied more with my sorrows and how to beat them than sexual desires.
But could I ever forget that night when we went on that tour with my cousin? My parents too thought it would be a good idea for me to go with you both, I can relax from my busy and tiring schedule and might feel happy. Well, my parents in fact insisted that you accompany us. Little did they imagine that a gentleman like you would turn into a predator! Later, I realised it was a well thought of plan of yours. You had convinced my parents a trip would be good for me and I reluctantly joined. Then you made my cousin drunk, so that she would not respond or stir in sleep, you put me to sleep only to wake me up with a perverted act oanal penetration on a sleeping woman.
Should I say you tried to rape me? I will not, for there was always a guardian angel protecting me and as the pain you inflicted woke me from my deep blissful sleep, I knew my body was being violated. I was pretty innocent still, for in those days sex was a taboo and we were not taught at a young age what perverse sex was. My best friend also never told me of such acts, he actually taught me the love and bliss of touching, caressing, kissing on endless college days that left us both amid giggles and childish banter.
But the pain you inflicted was enough to make me realise what you were up to and I resisted. You tried to make me understand there was nothing to fear, I would never get pregnant this way! That night still comes as a blur, for in a minute I got up, put on my underwear that you had pulled down and went out of the room that my cousin and me shared. You had a tough time trying to convince me you did no wrong and bring me back in fear of a scene I might create in the hotel lobby. You even scolded me for acting silly and said you never realised a smart woman like me didn’t know anything about various sexual acts.
But Mr C, that was the day you lost me, hence you really didn’t need to justify your marriage. Even though my mother asked you when you would marry me, I knew I shall never marry a man who raped my trust and love for his perverse hunger. Thank god, you left hungry. Yet you left an irreparable damage, a fear, a trauma and a hard feeling towards most men I came across later. Destiny at times was kind to me too. It brought back my best friend to me who I could trust my body with. However, I did shrink every time my loving husband came close. It was so bad that for almost a year after marriage, I didn’t allow a proper intercourse with him and yes that confused him a lot. He knew of you of course and thought I just broke up with you because you were put off by my parents. I couldn’t explain how every time I cringed at memories of that pain, and what you tried to do. I used to feel so ashamed at a point even about my body.
But it’s all over. Mr C, I have no ill feelings left. I am a proud mom of a wonderful boy and I have a perfect physical chemistry with my husband. But I pity you. Your idea of turning a woman who was already traumatised by a tragedy into a sex toy to meet your perverse hunger made you a non-entity for me. Yet, I didn’t lose faith in men. I know and have met quite a few men in my life including my husband who knows how to love and respect a woman’s needs. No worries, have a great life in India. Only hope none falls prey to your perversity as I did. Hope you have changed your ways, if not your mindset.
Yours Targetted Prey.
Pix from the Net.
Saheli Mitra is a journalist, blogger and internationally published poet and author. She is co-partner and founder of Talespin Media. Her poems have been published in several national and international printed and online anthologies. Her debut novel Lost Words was an Amazon bestseller. Her shorts stories have featured in printed collections like “Half Baked Love” and “Knitted Narratives”. She primarily writes on women issues. She also runs her Nature Group called “To Trees with Love”.