Her hand lay limply on the ground. Her brown hair, which had been smoothly tied in a ponytail, was now open and become a mess. The kohl, she wore had now been smeared all over her face due to the tears that had been continuously flowing ever since….
Her clothes had been torn in places and pain had reached to all the places where he had touched her, where he had laid his filthy hands upon her. The side of her neck had been throbbing with pain where she, without even touching the place, could tell that he had bit her.
She felt disgusted with herself. She had felt more disgusted when he had got up, letting her know that it was over and laughed without a care in the world. His devilish laugh still echoed in her ears. His eyes hungry with lust still stared at her petite figure when he began tearing her clothes. The foul smell from his mouth – probably from the cheap alcohol – still swam in the air. His rough hands still lingered in places where he had…
After lying there, for God knows how many hours, she finally found the tiny bit of courage to get up and walk home. Wrapping the scarf around her now impure body, she picked up the bag, which he had carelessly tossed around in the corner when she had entered the room, and walked out.
The scenes kept replaying in her head like a video and she knew she was obliged to watch it for the rest of her life. She tried to push them far in the back of her mind but could not. No matter how hard she tried they came before her over and over and over.
She reached home and without any acknowledgement to her parents, she walked straight to the bathroom. She wanted to get rid of his dirty touches as soon as possible. Her mother was calling out for her in the distance. But she did not pay any heed to it. She did not know how she was ever going to tell it to her parents; she herself did not believe that it all had really happened.
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you answering to my calls?” Her mother came in rushing from the kitchen to see what had happened to her daughter. She expected her daughter doing anything but standing under the shower, crying her eyes out. Even the bathroom door had been left unlocked.
On seeing her mother, she ran in her arms and hugged her. Mother was shocked to see her daughter like this. Her salwar was getting wet but she could care less about it. Mother quickly called her husband in the room. She kept asking as to what had happened to her, why was she crying so much but she could get no answers out of her. Her father came in, carrying his newspaper, and his eyes went wide at the sight before him.
There was water all around the room and the shower was still flowing. He first turned it off and then went to where his daughter was. She still hadn’t told them what had happened but he could tell, from her torn clothes, from the nail marks on her arms, from the tears in her innocent eyes.
“Who did this?” His voice tried to be steady but she could tell that he was trying very hard not to take it out on her or the female gender. “Where had you gone?” His anger was bubbling up every second and she feared he might do something worse.
“It was – ” her voice was soar from all the screaming. Her mother noticed this and so she brought her a glass of water. After drinking it, she fought with her insides to calm herself.
She told them everything, her voice was beginning to falter in between but she held it as long as she could. She told her who it was, what he had done, how much she had tried to protect herself but couldn’t. Her mother was sobbing by the end of it and her father was clenching his fists in anger, the paper becoming a ball in the process.
Her father asked her mother to let her go. She feared what he might do. Her father was famous for losing his temper very quickly and she couldn’t fathom his feelings right now. She thought he might tell her how he had never wanted a girl only because of this or how she had brought pain and shame to the entire family. She thought he might ask her to kill herself or perhaps he might do it for her. But he did the unexpected. He brought her close to him and hugged her. Of course, he was angry but he wasn’t angry at her. He was angry at the society and how it had become.
She was 17, 18 to be next month. What wrong had she ever done to anyone? Was being born as a girl child her mistake? Or was it that she was a female and could not protect herself? Was it her mistake that the eyes of the men have lust more than love? Or was it her mistake that she had fought back against him but still ended being raped?
His daughter cried freely. Even though it was a Man hugging her now, she knew she was safe in her father’s arms. He tried shushing her but to no avail. He could feel her growing weak as she gave up and finally fell in his arms. He held her up and walked to the bed. Laying her down, he asked her mother to take care of her. Her tired eyes were slowly drooping and the last thing she saw before giving in to the exhaustion was her father telling her how brave she was.

– Sumrudhi Patil

Platform:- SPLIT POETRY INDIA

Editor:- Gautam Jha