It was the rainy season of 2009. I was struggling to prepare for a practical exam as I had the excruciating monthly stomach pain. The next day, even with a deadly pain that constantly stabbed my abdomen and back, I still had to skip my meals and spend the entire lunch break working. By the time I finished my submission and exams, it was late and I had to rush without sparing a second, to catch a bus home from my boarding school.
A heavy downpour that started not only darkened the evening but also my mind with fear. A few kilometres before my stop, the bus halted and the conductor announced, “The bus won’t go any further since there is a strike in Mavelikara.” I felt like the thunderstorm that struck the sky pierced me too.
I got down from the bus. It was dark, still raining outside and aching inside. I looked around and saw a crowd—intoxicated men in shabby clothes and red eyes standing in a long queue in front of a liquor outlet. In my drenched school uniform and with a big backpack, I was completely out of place. Seconds seemed like hours. I was shivering with pain and fear.
That’s when it happened. I saw a drunken man walking towards me. I didn’t know how my body and mind would react to that. I was soaked in the rain. I was starving. I was thirsty. I was tired. I was bleeding. And above all, I was in so much pain! I literally dragged myself with all my energy. That’s when my eyes noticed a bakery, which was open at a distance. I ran towards it and got inside. Seeing me, the couple who owned the eatery asked me what had happened. I narrated everything holding my breath and in between, I saw the woman signalling me, without her husband noticing them, and insisting that I should sit down.
Meanwhile, that uncle gave me his mobile to call my father. I badly wanted to go to the bathroom but with that woman’s gestures, I understood my skirt would be badly stained. After all, the word shame is an invisible package bestowed to girls. After a while, my father came as a saviour and took me home. As they say, experiences are the best teachers and they adorn the crown of every timid girl, making her bold.
Neethu Parvathy S
Email: n.parvathy1992@gmail.com