Of Unbridled Appetite

Of Unbridled Appetite

I am on my way to Mysore. The bus toddles slowly on the Dhimbam ghats, I enjoy the scenery of the misty morning dawn and the golden rays of the sun which makes its appearance now and then through the thick forest foliage. I feel very relaxed. I am happy. I am taking a break from the feeling of anguish that I was going through when the Delhi rape happened. I am taking this trip to meet my classmate, Parimala, whom I accidentally bumped into on facebook. We were classmates in our undergrad programme in 60s. Parimala , as her name suggests, was very exuberant and very good in her studies. Very precise and accurate in her dissection either of an earthworm or of a frog. She was from a staunch,orthodox Brahmin family. As I was mulling over the bygone days,I was already at Mysore bus stand. Parimala was there. She looked pale. She had lost her husband the previous year. She had told me over facebook chat. She has two sons,both in US. One married and the other one with a live-in relationship. I waved. “ Hi Pari..(that's how we used to call her). You look run down. Are you in good health?” She said, “ I am ok. Age you see. You look gorgeous with your sari and new hairstyle. Let's go and sit in a restaurant. We shall have good lunch and then I will tell you my story”. I said, “ Fine”. We took up a corner table. The place was not crowded. This is her story.

Jayashree,after passing out doing Botany Zoology, I was unable to get a job, nor had any green clearance for marriage. I had these three elder sisters to be married. No parents. They had passed away one after the other in two years. One elder brother who got married and went away with his wife. We were somehow managing. At that point my uncle, who lived in Calcutta now Kolkota,called up,one fine day and asked me if I could come over to Calcutta and take care of his one and half year old daughter. He was working in a top position in government office. I don't remember which one. His wife also held a good position, again in a government office. They need somebody who could speak Kannada and very reliable. I was thrilled. My sisters encouraged me. They even said I was very lucky . So I set out to Cal. My uncle received me at the station. To my surprise there was one more woman in the house. A PG. I thought how nice of them. She was some four or five years older to me. The kid was very cute and I adored her. One month everything went off very well. My uncle was very well read. Always jovial. Cutting jokes. Making people laugh. He used to praise me always. I used to feel elated. It was a very nice feeling. One day my uncle gave me shabhaash on my cheek. I felt a bit uncomfortable. He was ten years older than me. I was afraid of him. Then, he would come and sit next to me. This, he did when nobody else was at home. When my aunt and the other lady would be around, he would say Pari you are very good and all that blah-blah. It gave a good boost to my low esteem at that time.

Then the touches were becoming very intimate. I just did not know how to wriggle out of the situation. It went on and on. I started to think as if I am his wife. One day my aunt found out what was happening. She did not do anything to get me out of this. She said it was alright. Everyday was a dark day for me. I slowly took courage to tell my sister over phone. She was aghast. She shouted, “Just say no next time he comes to you”. I did that. The next day there was a big ruckus. My aunt accused me of seducing her husband. My uncle said that I was of bad character. They bought the next train ticket and packed me off to Mysore.

It took me at least two years to recover from that trauma. After that I studied. Did my PG. Got a job. Found a husband. My husband was good. Somehow I came out of the situation. But tell me Jayashree, how many girls can come out of such a situation. If the Delhi rape was brutal, mine was slow poison. Jayashree, I request you to tell my story to others,whenever you get a chance.

Both of us cried for some time. I was happy she came out. Sad,such things happened to her.
She said, “ Please girls, take care. There are slow rapists, who go scot free. It does not happen only in buses,or cars or wherever. It happens even in your own home”.