“Why do you want to work in an NGO?” Most regular companies want to hear how the candidate is a “great fit” for them. But in an NGO, one has to be prepared to hear anything. That’s how I found out Riya’s story (name changed). I asked her the question-
“Why do you want to work in an NGO?”. I had already sensed the answer in that momentary silence when I looked in her eyes, but she replied without skipping a beat: “I want to prevent another me”.
“Another you?” I asked.
“Another victim of child abuse,” she said a bit too clearly, as if to distract me from the tears she was trying to fight back.
“When I was little, my little sister and I used to stay with my nana–nani. Later, when I was about seven, we were sent to a creche instead. The creche owner’s son was 18. I had never been in a strange atmosphere before and I was naturally reserved and scared. It was as if he could sniff out my fear and prey on me- he used to forcefully kiss me and touch my private parts. When I told him that I would tell my parents, he threatened to hurt my sister as well. I was helpless for two years and silently suffered through whatever he did. But ruining my childhood was not enough for him- one afternoon, he tried to molest my sister as well. When I saw him kiss her, I panicked so much that I grabbed her when no one was looking and ran away to our neighbour’s house. When Ma came back home, she beat me black and blue for worrying everyone. Between tears and screams, I told her that bhaiyya “spit” on my face everyday and today he did the same with my sister. I don’t know how much she understood, but after that day, she sent my sister to my maasi‘s house and I was sent to another creche.”
“You would think that it solved all our problems, but it was not to be. My new creche had yet another monster. He was called Chintu, and he was about 21 years old. He used to kiss me, touch my private parts, suck my nipples and lick my private parts. He made my life absolute hell. For 3 years of my life, I was helpless- I used to cry everyday. I wanted to tell my mom everything but I couldn’t. There were already enough problems at home.”
“Finally, all of this ended when I was 13. My mom hired a full-time maid to stay at home with my sister and me. For the first time, I felt safe. I felt home was the best place to be in. Until one day, my cousin came home.”
“He had his summer holidays. When my sister and I played outside, he would play on the computer at home. One evening when my mother prepared dinner she asked me to call him. When I went to his room, I saw him watching a porn movie. I don’t even need to tell you what he did to “silence” me, and he did it without even caring for the fact that I was hissister.”
“My pleas fell on deaf ears, and I had no strength to struggle any more. I gave up. After that day, he began visiting his “favourite aunt” more frequently. I wasn’t in a position to ask him NOT to come. He was FAMILY, right? He used to taunt me that if I ever complained to my parents, they would kill themselves out of shame. The anger and sadness built inside me till one day I burst out to him with such rage that it shut him up. I told him that I would tell HIS parents instead. I never saw him after that.”
“I grew up being suspicious of every boy and every man. I was a loner and remained friendless throughout my school days. People laughed at me, called me mad and weird. When I started college, some boys used to eve-tease me and stalk me everyday. I have waited and waited for at least one man to help me instead of ruining me. With some luck, I made ONE friend whom I can trust.”
“I like to think that I’m stronger and I’ve moved away from my past, but it always comes back to haunt me. I have to see those ugly faces that left scars on my life. When they come, I lock myself inside my room. I am afraid that they will still touch me and lick me. I wish I could tell my parents everything, but I can’t! Ma is a heart patient and I know she will die of heart attack, and my dad will surely kill himself. How can I be responsible for my own parents’ death?”
I got up and hugged her. I saw into the eyes of this strong, broken fighter.
I got the answer to my question and I realized something- only someone who has been through the trauma can empathize with people who need help. And unfortunately, that’s every woman. That’s you, that’s me, that’s Riya. We want to trust this world so much, and we CAN’T because evil sits in our own house.
Tell me this- do you trust others when it comes to your jewellery or property? Nahi na? Then why you trust others when it comes to your children?
This post was submitted by Monika Satyawali.
Note: The image is not that of the author. It is just for representation purpose.
