Why I'm writing this to the man who raped me when I was 15
Gravity holds the earth beneath my feet hostage and the skies reflect my destiny. I feel the rogue breeze grip this suicidal phase in my life and wonder, how long will it go on? How many women have gone through this? Veteran actor Daisy Irani’s story stirs up mixed emotions within me as I silently scream to demolish this cycle of impunity. How could a man rape a 6-year-old child who trusted him with her innocence? Why did she have to suffer the trauma all these years? Imagine a little child of six buried under thoughts that kill her every day as she struggles to be normal.
As I read her story, I connect with her for we are both that lull after a heavy storm that has blown away some beautiful memories from our life. We are both a muddled mess hiding beneath the sweet music of a nightingale. Inspired by my “pain friend” Daisy, I overcome the fear of exhaling my desperate, pent-up anger and take this moment to speak up.
So here is a letter for you Mr Rapist.
You know what? I forgive you. I don't really know what I mean by this and neither do I know what forgiving means. But yes, I forgive you.
I am still terrified of that day. It is so easy to get lost in it. To bury my whole being in the emotions that flood my every day because of what you did to tear my soul out. Do you realise the feeling of no longer being safe in your own skin? To be afraid of being alone at home even when you are a 15-year-old? To wake up hyperventilating in the middle of the night? To be shattered for life? It took me long brutal weeks to get over that terrible feeling.
Do you realise the horror of the pleas it took to make you delete the video of my being raped?
You slapped me and tied my hands together, to forcibly make me watch that video when I resisted! You blackmailed me to the point of collapse. Do you even realise the feeling of being too afraid to be alone but too scared to be with anyone.
I failed miserably in my final exams because I could not get the pain out of my head. It feels like the blues of the skies would be incomplete if it didn’t have evil people like you to breathing toxic air into life.
The day I was told about rape I didn’t realise that it could happen to me too. My mom told me rape happened to girls who aren’t careful, that it left them broken like burnt figs. When the evil met me, I removed myself from the realities of life.
I still remember the day you barged into my house. How you locked me in my room and took off your clothes while I stayed there, horrified in my bed, still recovering from the shock of slap you had planted on me. I remember how you took out your phone to record the evil things you did to me.
And then you forcibly tore my clothes. With my clothes, you tore away a part of my soul. The part which would never heal. The handkerchief you stuffed in my mouth when I was screaming in pain is a clear image of my forced silence. I remember how you tied my hands and kept torturing me for hours. How you burnt me with your cigarette when I tried to confront you.
You took away my comfort and my ability to express myself. All my friends faded into the background because they misunderstood my silence. No one truly knew "me" and I was all alone.
I could never open up about this incident because you threatened to ruin my life if I did. You threatened to expose the video to the world and harm my parents. I wanted to confide in my best friend but you made sure she turned against me.
I was too scared for my family - even the thought of telling them about my horror scared me.
Gradually, I moved away from the feeling. Ugly scars never heal, they just fade with time. But they are still there and so are you. I took some meditation classes and took to writing. I became an introvert and despised any company around me. I am still the same and I will never change. Writing became my only solace - it got me out of depression and I can say that I have partially moved on from the day I was raped.
Even so, the worst has not passed. I always include you in my story. You have become a part of me and will remain so till I die. I have even tried to consider that something positive could come out of the ugliness you have put me through, but I can't.
How can I? What you did was wrong and nothing can change that.
You don’t know that you are a rapist and that you have changed my life. So many years after this incident, I still sink into my pillow with tears. I want to feel the beauty of love but the trauma you have inflicted upon me never allows me to experience it.
Yes, you destroyed a part of me. Yet, I forgive you.
You know why? Because you are not worthy of being a part of my life. I forgive you because I am tired of living with fear. My forgiveness doesn’t mean what you did to me was right in any sense. You are still evil and none of your actions can ever justify what you did to me six years ago.
People like you need to be stopped in their tracks before more children like Daisy Irani can come out with their horror stories. Because till then, it would be too late and our gut-wrenching pain would have been sidelined and meaningless. We will romanticise heartbreaks, sensationalise crimes and glamorise rebellion because you men, modern-day heroes with your chosen weapons of masculinity, will never leave us alone.
To all the girls out there who suffer such evils, please remember that it is not right. Your vagina is no random monster's possession. You are not alone! Don’t be another Daisy Irani. Don't be another girl like me. Speak out. Scream till your assaulters start choking with fear. You are not to blame, so drag your body into rebellion and expose the evil. Cry till your tears dry but rise like a fierce woman. Instead of killing yourself, trample the world with your feet because you have the power.
I killed my soul and I regret this life but I ask you to leave those triggers behind. Slash them, girls. Really. Let's show them who is strong.