Date with rape...

No words can define it. It’s something so great —- only God could design it. It’s ever-enduring and so kind, it judges all things with the heart, not the mind. And love can transform the most commonplace into beauty, splendour, sweetness and grace... Yes, Love is beyond what man can define, for love is immortal and Divine...

Shalini doesn’t believe in it anymore. When fantasy gets a thud from reality, when dreams are crushed by the destiny, where do you find an abode to rest in peace? Enshrouded in gloom, the ever disconsolate heart had been groping her way out of the dark shadows of life. Shalini Mehta (name changed), a 20-year-old college-goer, had been raped by her partner, twice during their college fest. Here’s an account of her pathos.

Hip-pocket had come to perform in our campus that evening. The music was loud. Everyone was caught in an invisible web of euphoria. We were sitting in one of the classrooms on the second floor. My partner (I don’t want to reveal his name, neither do I want to call him by any other name) always avoided people. To put it in the other words, he was a bit introvert. Spoke very little, and had a selected group of friends. His subject was mathematics, and was very good at calculations. When he dragged me up the stairs into the biology lab, I couldn’t comprehend his motive. Well, he had clear perception about life and exactly knew what he wanted. I just loved him. I believed him more than I had faith in me. I agreed to what he said.

There was an unprecedented joy in submission. I could feel the pang of desire, running through my veins, yet it was an eerie feeling. It was as if I could hear the call of my conscience. No, what was I doing? My morals, my values stood in front of me. My cold blood, the warmth, my wet yet shaky lips, I was giving in. I was drowning. I couldn’t but restrain myself. It was darkness everywhere. An uncanny silence prevailed. The band had completed their show by then. I stood up. I wanted to leave the room. But I was stopped. He held me in a vice like grip and dragged me on to the ground. He was all over me. I cried for help, yet I couldn’t, because I loved him. I looked at him. Tears ran down my cheeks. There were bruises all over my face. I could feel a pain down my legs and was unable to get up.

Why did you do this to me? I asked him. But albeit, didn’t get any reply, I wanted to hold his hand and recline on his shoulders. I wanted to give myself completely to him, but perhaps not in this manner. Yet after all this I couldn’t stop loving him. I wanted to go home and requested him to give me a lift back. But it was all in vain. He caressed me, took me in his arms. I closed my eyes. Consoled my lost spirits. Perhaps this is called love? The storm was replaced by an blissful quietitude.

Oh God! It was not the end. There’s more to the story. He did it again. I pleaded for help. Mercy ... albeit, no one was there to hear my cries. For a second, I felt, he didn’t love me. If he would have, then he would’ve exercised restraint. The respect of being a girl. Did he love my soul? He was perhaps more crazy about my curves, my ‘vital statistics’. I realised that wasn’t love making. I was raped. Yes, I was raped twice.

My body was no more pure. I lost my innocence. I couldn’t get out of bed for the next fortnight. I couldn’t take myself out of my room. The walls seemed to close in on me. I couldn’t stand in front of the mirror for long. I severed all contacts with him. Yet, I had the inner drive to prove myself. I started regaining my lost faith. Believed in my values, that taught me to smile again. I lost my virginity. Yet I am pure at heart and soul. No one could erase the purity from my soul. I am still a virgin.