Sitting in my classroom feeling safe,

suddenly a hand on my shoulders came.

Iwas scared abnormally and they teased – “chokri sala”

Yes, boys sacred me whenever they came near,

I had a past that i feared.

I was eight, my parents both working.

it happened in their absence when my room had light,

he came and held my hands tight.

forcefully tied my mouth with a band,

I screamed but he didn’t  bother to stand.

he undressed me and touched me in a manner inappropriate.

Yes, I was raped by non other than ram kaka, our very own maid.

unpleasant, feeling the pain , it will be ok; he explained.

I turned weird and mad,

discovering that my parents too didn’t understand.

the routine repeated for 10 long years.

he did it as his duty, in a manner extra sincere.

choosing to speak up I gathered guts,

told my grand maa everything in crux.

believing in me she helped,

chided my family and close friends ‘name calling was the only thing you do rather than understanding his psychology like a few’

ramu kaka heard and flee,

that day I felt safe and free.

I am okay now, stable at mind;

victims like me I have a motive to find.

those years were deadly,

time didn’t seeem to pass,

I had to face it when I was a nanhi si jaan!

but the fact that my story is never backed by empathy in the eyes of society, makes me

immensely sad.

“a male can never be raped or harassed”

in between this partial and stereo- typical prospective of society,

I stand as a victim of all bad!

This is the story of my friends (male for a change), who was raped for ten long years at his own house. I recite this to make one aware that social evils are in no way gender specific always!

Lubna Ismailee

VSLLS

5 B