The story of a victim, abused over and over again

(as told to R Akhileshwari)

Ours was a big joint family in a big house that had several men and women servants. Relatives seemed to be coming and going all the time. Visitors would drop in.

          Cousins would come for holidays and their friends would be welcome even when not accompanied by cousins. The elders were not bothered about the children. My mother was busy in the kitchen, father was busy with his business and we children were basically free to do what we wanted after returning from school and during holidays.

          I was introduced to sex quite early, may be when I was six or seven years. I don’t remember the first time though and who did it to me. I do remember the many places in the house that were not frequented and this is where a servant would take me and he would play a game during which I would be on top…one day I got angry because he did urine on me…it was all sticky and I was so angry I did not play with him again.

          Then there was a cousin who used to live in our house. One day he took me to the garden and asked me to sit on him and said let’s see who has more strength, you push and I will push. I told him no, silly, this game is not played like this. You should sit on me. From then onwards, we would regularly go to garden, and play the game.

          Then there was this relative who was a regular in our house. Why he would come I don’t know. He would give me gifts and take me out for walks. I would get tired and sleep off in his room. Once or twice I woke up to find him sucking my lips. I think he was trying out kissing.

          A friend of my father would always make a point of bringing me a chocolate. I was about 9 to 10 around that time. He would give me the chocolate take me close to him and put a hand round my shoulders and then…feel and pinch my breast. I did not know how to refuse the chocolate but I never ate it. I threw it away because I knew he was not good. Why didn’t I tell my parents? Or anybody? I knew all these things were bad but I did not know I should tell anyone. I was also scared. My mother had no time for us. She would only beat us…

          She was always criticizing me so I was afraid to tell her such bad things. My father was okay but we, especially girls had very little interaction with him and the question of confiding in him never even came to my mind. Maybe my sisters too were similarly abused. I wonder if we have the courage to speak about them even now, when we all are grandparents.

(Published in Sunday Herald, the weekly magazine section of Deccan Herald)