The ambiguous cover of the villainous darkness hid the shame of losing honor- it felt like a beautiful blindfold against all bigotry of the society that hid the cacophony of every emotion swirling past clouded eyes. There were no thundering colors of emotions anymore in those lost eyes- no tears, no grief, no anger, no frustration, and no life. The swirling colors had long faded within the palette of life smudged by old, ugly hands, rubbed through each color of joy rigorously till all that was left to feel was darkness- emptiness more hollow than the silence of the sinful night.
Absolute disgust! The reality hit him again, but how could it be true??? This never happened- not even in the news. But it happened to him ….in the dazzling lights of the city that was supposed to fulfill all his dreams.
It was a warm autumn evening on an off day and Sahil was enjoying the beautiful rhymes of those carefree birds tuned beautifully by the swiftly gushing flow of the river nearby.
“Hey big man! Happy Birthday!”
It was Amir- the house owner with whom he stayed as a paying guest till he could settle down on his own in the land so far from the comforts of home. He had finally reached 18 and he was ready and willing to take on the world. Just few months back, when he had first embarked on his journey, he was an uncertain and scared young boy. Few months in the new country seemed to have made him a whole new man- He was confident that he had it all figured out.
Yet, his first “birthday drink” had made him dizzy. He had always looked up to Amir and he didn’t have the guts to say No to the couple of drinks that followed- he hated it. He clearly saw Amir mix some white powder in his drink- “sugar makes your drink stronger buddy, don’t tell me you didn’t know!” He didn’t have the confidence to say No. He had been drugged. His sight became blurry and the world spun harder than the ferry wheel till Amir seemed like a blob. In his blurred consciousness, he felt Amir remove his clothes. He didn’t have the right mind to say No- it was too late and his consciousness was failing him. He felt manhandled, abused, tortured: HE was RAPED.
He got up the next morning with pain all over his body. He was lying on the hard, cold floor with a light cover hiding his body from the shame of daylight. “Why did you do it?? You raped me!”
But no, “boys don’t get raped kiddo. Especially not princesses like you.” He had laughed like a bully over his anger-filled shame. “I knew you liked it- you never said No. Be a man and admit it! Oh oops..you said you were “raped” so then be a little princess and admit that you liked it GIGOLO
A large truck zoomed past the crouched road jolting him to reality. Even after moving out of the neighborhood, he still got paralyzing nightmares. His loud, evil laugh still rang in his ears driving him to the brink of insanity. He had to talk to someone before his head exploded from the pain of hiding. Amir had raped him once, but his mind had forever perpetuated that pain and his bruises had never once healed. Everyone he knew would laugh at him, make fun of him and consider him less of a man if his spoke up. The same people who sympathized with women who had the misfortune of the same fate as he would inevitably pass snide comments. But he had to put an end to the devil inside his head.
Perhaps putting an end to life itself would free him…
His abuses ran fresh through his soul…his perpetrator is probably out there sleeping happily in his satisfied male glory. Why should he die like a coward without getting justice?
He mustered all his strength and dialed the number of a counselor that his professor had given to the class few months ago.
Somewhere in his heart, he could feel his lost colors returning. Yet the endless rings at the other end made him feel like he still had the chance to back out and keep his shame hidden. But what if his guilt that he let it happen drove him crazy and the only relief then would be under a coffin? He closed his eyes trying to keep those daunting tears inside and the gnawing pain in his heart with fear and anxiety hidden.
“Hello, my dear. How are you doing?”
Her warm voice seemed to embrace his swollen pain numbing him to all feelings.
“Please help me, Ma’am…Help me”
*Shreesha Bista Contributed for Mero Tribune Media. She works in an NGO.