There are some things you want to run away as far as you can; but still cant. Every time you try to run away from it, it just comes back searing at you. And the worst you can have in such memories are the memories of abuse you endured while you were a child. This is my story of a scar that has lived with me forever.
The story begins when I was a child - much before I achieved puberty. I must have been 10 years old when the thunder struck me for the first time. During vacation times we would go to our relative's place - and one such place that I would go was to my grand mother's place. I loved being there as I was very fond of my uncles and aunts. They liked me and pampered me to a great extent. Every time I was there, I was treated like a star - wanted, loved and cared. One of my uncles had a special liking towards me - he would play with me, take me out, and I was in awe of him. He was probably 10-12 years older than me, and everything that I aspired to be. Him being handsome and loved by everyone in the family made me wish if I could be like him when I grew up.
It was one rainy night when as usual I went to sleep with him in the night. Summer rains in Kerala are truly God's gift - as it allowed for the scorching summer temperatures to come down. Every night that we would sleep together, we would talk about a lot of things - from my studies to my friends to what games we would play the next day to the places he would take me to. Soon I fell asleep. The next thing I remember was something crawling over my tummy sliding towards my groin. I didnt realise what was happening there. To my absolute alarm I realised that it was my uncle's palms that were probing me. Soon it went inside the shorts that I was wearing and started playing around with the little one inside - rolling and massaging it.
I was in shock and was probably traumatized. I didnt know what I need to do, and was probably scared of him. Those were the days when you were not taught whats good touch and whats bad touch in school. Neither did my parents talk about these at home - afterall we are talking about something that happened thirty five years back, and the world was a lot more ignorant then. Unaware of what was happening to me, I kept silent. The massaging and the rolling went on for some time, and the only memory I have of that moment is that I was feeling ticklish. My little one had become stronger and I felt as if I want to pee. But after some time, he either stopped or I fell asleep. The next morning when I woke up, I felt shy and I felt as if something has it me and I am completely unaware.
The same story started to repeat itself day after day. He always ensured that I slept with him; and the trust and commanding power he had with everyone else ensured that he always got his way with me. As the activity went along over days, I started making some sounds as it happened - and I still dont know whether it was out of frustration, anger or because I had started to feel it. Afterall, at 10-12, you are at the doorsteps of puberty. A few days later in front of few of my family including my mom, I said that I didnt want to sleep with him because he was touching my little one. I dont know what happened, because noone seemed to take it seriously. It appeared as if it was another subject for family small talk. Did he manipulate the conversation, or did others feel threatened to question him resulting in that discussion never ever given the importance it required - I will never know.
The after effect of that conversation not happening was that I went into a shell on this. At that young age, I told myself that whatever was happening was not a problem; maybe I am making it an issue. The aura that he had forced me to yield over to him - for the years to follow. When he would kiss me on my cheeks I thought it was his love that he was showering upon me; I was naïve at that point in time to realise that it was anything but love. I felt nothing for the next few years; but deep inside me, there was a different me that was growing up - a persona that I would be struggling with for the rest of my life.. The only things I am thankful for - if I can call it, would be that he never tried to brutalize me at that young age. If that too had happened...
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