The Risk of Speaking Out : Part 3

Link to the previous part :

https://allaboutblogdotlife.wordpress.com/2020/04/17/the-risk-of-speaking-out-part-2/

Riya

17th June 2015, Wednesday.

(Part 1 contd…)

I was wearing my footwear, but it felt bare. My mind became lifeless, my thoughts crossed heights, and my heart froze every time they looked at me.

One man looked at my eyes, one looked at my nose, one looked at my bag, and the other looked at my hands. I was clueless, helpless and hopeless. For a second I forgot everything I had in my life, my family, my job, and my home. I knew I’d succumb to this soon.

A few minutes later, one pushed me towards the wall, held my head, rubbed my arms, pulled my legs and one removed my footwear. I cried, not out of fear or pain, but out of anger. That time my phone rang, and all of them shot a private glance at each other. It was from Abhay. My face became pale, swollen and red. They waited till it stopped, and then all they did was beat me, kick me, harass me, mishandle in every way possible. One rubbed his fingers on my nose, one on my eyelids. One thing I remember was giving me some shit and telling me to consume it.

The next thing I remember was finding myself in a different room, still looking the same, red, pale and swollen. The only thing I knew was the time, thanks to my watch. It said a half past one. Why couldn’t I fight back ?

I was worried, not because I was trapped, because Abhay would be. Just 22 months into married life and he wouldn’t like this. I expected things to be more worse, but I was somewhat relieved as I had some hope that I’ll be okay soon.

When a storm of harassment disturbs our thinking and brings us down to our knees, the umbrella of our imagination can shield us against destructive aggression. It is offering shelter and is teaching us how to conquer ourselves, train our resilience, and grit our teeth. We better learn to adopt the virtue of endurance, as life consists of both ‘passion’ and ‘patience.’

I fell asleep, thinking about my girl, Isha, with the fear that she’d face a similar circumstance very soon in her lifetime. Living a life is hard now a days, many people just exist and exit. I wasn’t really living a life till Abhay’s entry into mine.

Nothing was on mind except Abhay and Isha.This moment would define my memory of that night, and of the many nights like it, for a decade. In it I saw myself as unbreakable, as tender as stone. At first I merely believed this, until one day it became the truth. Then I was able to tell myself, without lying, that it didn’t affect me, that he didn’t affect me, because nothing affected me. I didn’t understand how morbidly right I was. How I had hollowed myself out. For all my obsessing over the consequences of that night, I had misunderstood the vital truth: that its not affecting me, that was its effect.

(To be continued…)

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