Memories of abuse that I couldn’t deal with made me start this blog exactly a year ago, and I thought that it was only fit that I end the year by talking about this episode that left me emotionally crippled. For the longest time I put off writing about this, but I also know that if I don’t get it out now, I never will.
Thank you for reading, and thank you for all the love.
S! How are you!
The words had barely escaped my lips when he consumed me in a giant bear hug. God, I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?
Asphyxiated, I wanted to say. But I said engaged, just to see how he would react. I thought I saw a flicker of emotion in his intense brown eyes and a bead of sweat on his forehead. Was he this short back then?
That’s great news! Tell me all about the lucky guy!
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t pass up that opportunity to rub my awesomeness in his face. Let him realize he misses what he was too chicken to claim. I went on and on as he sipped his coffee. He was awfully quiet, and I was insanely happy about that.
Does he like to dance, he finally asked.
So you remember my checklist! Yes. He dances really well. And he cooks and is very patient. He never gets angry. He’s perfect!
He was obviously jealous. Have you guys had sex yet? Or are you still waiting for the right guy?
Actually, yes, I said. And then I realized I shouldn’t have.
After a moment of awkward silence, I got up, saying I had to go to work, and he asked if I was still working in Gurgaon. Yes, I said again, surprised that he remembered that little detail about me. We hadn’t been in touch for two years save one birthday phone call.
He told me he was headed home (which was in Gurgaon), and that he could drop me to work. I was about to say no, thanks, my shift doesn’t start until 5 pm and I’ll take the cab, but he mentioned his bike, and my face lit up like a fucking house on Diwali (yes, I know I’ve said that before, but in an entirely different context – my face was on fire that night).
I agreed to go with him to Gurgaon. I just have to go home and change. That way I can just go to office right after I drop you.
An hour later, I was at his house, sprawled on his bed like a dirty bed cover. And there he was, sitting on my chest, his knees holding my arms down, his crotch dangerously close to my face. All I could hear was the thumping of my heart and a few incoherent words.
You bitch! How could you let him touch you!
Then I felt his hands on my crotch. Did he touch you like this? What else did he do to you?
Let me go. Please! My head reeled as he moved his unwanted fingers all over my body. I tried to cry but the tears just wouldn’t come. I trusted you, S. Why are you doing this to me?
I loved you, you cunt, and you never once let me touch you.
I knew it was true. He and I had become friends after I bumped into him at the graduation party. We had hung out at his place many times, and had developed some sort of feelings for each other. I knew he liked me, but I also knew he had a girlfriend back in Kanpur. His face came very close to mine one day, and I asked if he intended to marry me.
Sure. But there was a hint of hesitation in his voice that I couldn’t ignore.
And now, there he was, trying to rape me. Take what I wasn’t willing to give him readily – not then, not now. I had to do something.
I didn’t even know you loved me… you never said anything, I said as he unbuttoned my jeans with one dexterous move. Carefully, slowly, I whispered the words I loved you too, but you never said anything!
As expected, he paused. You’re at an advantage when you know your potential rapist.
I tried to tell you that day, but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know how you would react! I felt ashamed of myself for being such a lying, conniving, manipulative bitch, but it was me or him, and I chose me.
He eased his weight off my body and slowly got up, sobbing.
I got off the bed, hugged him, and wiped his tears. You can’t marry that guy, he said.
We need to talk about this S., but first you need to calm down. Go, wash your face.
As soon as he entered the washroom, I sprang off the bed and bolted the door from outside. I picked up my bag as he pounded on the door, demanding that I unlock it, or else.
I slipped on the stairs, twice. I called the first friend I could think of who lived in Gurgaon.
I said in as calm a voice as I could: Listen, I need help. S. tried to rape me, and I ran away. I don’t know where I am, but I can’t be far from his house. Can you pick me up?
He found me under a tree, sitting quietly, staring at the road.
Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?
Nothing. I’m fine.
He took me to the nearest coffee shop and we sat down, and I told him everything. But the tears wouldn’t come.
That bastard. Promise me you’ll never speak to him again.
My phone rang. It’s him.
I didn’t answer. My phone rang again and again. I didn’t answer.
Then, a message. I’m looking for you so I can drop you to office. Answer your phone, goddammit!
Leave me alone is all I could type.
I couldn’t go to office. I called in sick and went to my future (now ex) husband’s office. One look at me and he knew something was wrong. What happened Ana, he asked.
I told him. I saw anger in his otherwise passive eyes – I saw him tremble with rage. Give me his phone number is all he said. I handed him my phone.
And then I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.