A letter to the men in my life.

Dear 1st,

I thought for a long hard time before penning this letter to you. And believe me I have done it many times. But it is your constant fallacy that you so carefully portray to your social circle that pushed me to do my bit in bringing your veil down.

You have hated me with such venomous spite since the day I was born. And it took me a long time to realise that it was because I wasn’t born with a penis. As a kid it was hard for me to understand the negativity that sparked from you and I tried to mould myself in every way possible to be accepted by you. But it was never enough.

I feel ashamed to call you my father. You haven’t earned the title. Not one bit. The only memories I have of you as a kid is fighting with my mother endlessly and belittling her for every single thing. It shocked me even more to see her tolerate that, everyday.

But I am not her. I am not a spectator. Not anymore.

When I was in standard 10 and all my friends were gearing up for their board exams, I was slogging my ass between a job and studies to evade your wrath. But guess what you were doing? philandering with a woman half your age somewhere and the messages happened to fall into my hands. HaHa! All this while you shamed me and my mother and sometimes even my grandmother, endlessly for simply nothing. When I spent sleepless nights at my shoot, you laughed and told everyone that you were waiting for something bad to happen to me so you could have the last laugh. A father who could stoop so low!

I was even more shocked when our house helper, a girl who literally grew up with YOUR kids, gathered a LOT of courage and told me that you even tried to bed her! I couldn’t decide to be sorry or ashamed. I wanted to kill you then.

Cut to my 12th boards. I was more focussed on studying this time round because I couldn’t bear to live in your house anymore. But guess what you did? You blared the volume of the TV so I couldn’t study. I had to go out and stay in others’ houses to study or wait till you were asleep to study. And guess who had the last laugh this time? ME. I topped my school. Yet, it still wasn’t enough…

I was ecstatic to have left home and you never once bothered to check up on me or find out where I live and how I live. Not that I expected you to. And I am glad you didn’t because it shaped me to become the independent person that I am. But what I hate you for is the void that you have left in my life and how that created so many other messes in my life.
I have always been so desperate for acceptance that I began to look for it in completely wrong places. My whole focus in life for a painfully long time was to find a boyfriend to fill the void that you created. Thankfully, I didn’t even have a role model to look up to and didn’t have much standards. So I more or less dated any man who would give me that temporary happiness and make me feel accepted. Needless to say, most of them were simply varied versions of you.

And as much as, people are charmed by your social presence and how you became a self made man at such a young age, I genuinely wish they could  see the torture you inflict to your family and the pain they endure each day simply because you are alive enough to breathe. But you know what? I have the right to cut out people who stress me and people who take away my happiness. And today, I cut you out. If somebody asks me who your father is or what he does? I will shake my head and reply, I don’t know him. And I have zero shame in writing that here. You will not be a part of my life anymore and neither will I give you the power to control it.

So, thank you, Mr. Subir Ganguly. You deserve a lot of accolades in your life. And a couple of years ago, another one of your adulterous texts happened to fall into hands. You sent it to me by mistake. Old habits die hard, eh?

And I am really glad that it was me on the receiving end because any other girl would have committed suicide had they been blessed with a father like you.

Dear 2nd, 

I am not sure if you are worse than the first one. But boy, you surely deserve more than just a mention.

As a kid, I used to look forward to vacations because that meant you would be visiting! But guess what happened when you did visit? You snatched my games away or didn’t let me be a part of the games that you played. In future, there were games that I wish you didn’t let me play too.

You kicked me so hard once, that the mark of it is still visible on my chin. You punched, slapped, hit me to the point of unconsciousness. Sometimes you wrapped a blanket over me to suffocate me. But, I guess I was always a little too feisty, no?

Remember the time you pinched my nose so hard that I crouched in pain and couldn’t breathe? Let me remind you. It was at a platform at NJP station. Yet, I don’t understand why all I ever wanted was to be friends with you. You were my favourite. I was already paving the path of what my future with men would look like.

Let’s move to the games I mentioned about earlier, shall we? Let me remind you the first time it happened. I am pretty sure you must have forced yourself to forget it or you secretly pray each night that it’s not out.

We were on the terrace of the newly built portion of your ancestral home. When your hands slipped down my underwear and you were trying to roll your tongue in my mouth. I couldn’t quite understand what was happening. I was only in standard 3 you moron. I felt nauseous and you clearly got scared when I started puking so you let it rest for the day. But you didn’t stop it there. Those following days were extremely confusing for me and I wasn’t sure if I was to talk about it to anyone. It seemed like something that would get you into trouble. And my mother did teach me about “good” and “bad” touches. But you were my favourite, you told me such amazing ghost stories. I thought this would finally make you stop hitting me. And it did. You started to become so much nicer to me.

A few days later, I was bent over in pain, rushing to the washroom after every minute. Obviously I caught the infection. I was still silent then. I pushed you away everytime you tried anything funny but you didn’t give up. It was only after I hit puberty that I realised this needs to stop and I screamed at you and ran away from your house. It stopped after that. I never spoke up and buried it deep inside my head.

It was all fine for many years and I had forgiven you. But suddenly you did something so strange. You sat with your cousins and discussed my life and character. You even went onto say that I got a job after sleeping with your friend? HOW THE HELL did you concoct that story up? But I was still quiet. Mostly because I thought the time has passed and there is no point talking about it anymore.

But not anymore. People deserve to see your face too. I guess it runs in your family.

So thank you Mr. Arnab Ganguly, my “favourite” cousin, for ruining my childhood. Oh and I heard you are getting married to a girl younger than me. Guess paedophiles always stay the same, after all? Congratulations to you. I pray that you never have a daughter!

 

to be continued….

 

Disclaimer: The post is not to garner attention or sympathy. I don’t even like talking about it with others because it is extremely traumatising for me. But, I really want others to speak up! Break this cycle of abuse. I know a lot of people come from really dysfunctional homes and still we choose to stay in those circumstances because they are far easier than breaking out. Plus the “society” factor. It’s time to shun them! It’s time to own your life. Because you deserve it. You can’t let others take your dignity. You can finally say, “No More!” 

Let’s create a community of role models.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s