Saturday, July 19, 2014


For the last one month, every attempt I make at writing has been the same.

I open a Word doc. Type a few words. Read them out. Make a face. Delete the words. Type a few new words. Read them out. Make a face. Delete the words. Type a few new words. Read them out. Make a face.

I sometimes feel like blaming him for it.

I haven’t written a word since that incident three weeks ago.

It happened on June 22. The night was going to bed. The day hadn’t woken up yet. Life seemed wonderful. Naresh and I were riding the bike to Besant Nagar. We had registered for a half-marathon. I was doing the 10k run while Naresh was going the full distance. Having ignored the training schedule until the penultimate day, we were visibly nervous. But we pep talked each other enough to get convinced that we could do it without collapsing mid-way.

We were on the big bridge near home when I first noticed him. His was the only other vehicle on our side of the road at that time in the morning. He must have been around 19. I remember looking at him and wondering what such a young boy could be doing out at this hour. ‘Probably getting back from a party,’ I thought to myself as I turned away.

The next instant, I felt someone grab my breasts.

I have tried explaining what happened next. I have tried describing how I felt. I can’t. Sometimes you just don’t find the right words.

I take the same bridge every day – at least twice a day. On my lucky days, I am usually deep in conversation. But when I have only my thoughts for company, I often see flashes of his face. What I remember is not the way he violated my body. But the look on his face when I screamed. I will never forget the look on his face. The look of triumph.

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