Chapter 3: Vermin and Secrets

(This chapter had been temporarily removed due to the repercussions of exposing a crime and being blamed for blaming the culprit. This chapter shall remain here henceforth. )

Dear stalker,

There are essentially two communities in the human population that have my undying respect. Women and the queer. Apart from the exceptional qualities both embody, I find the highlights to be childbirth and sense of identity. As someone who identifies as both woman and queer, it can bestow heavily empowering insights and a powerful outlook on one's own life and the world one sees. 

My partner told me this morning that it's hard to believe I've never dated a girl before, because I happen to know exactly how to do it. I told her that it's not really a matter of the gender of my partner but knowing their needs and trying to provide them. Of course, being a girl is an added privilege to know just how we want to be loved. No wonder it pisses off toxic men for not getting women over this. *kisses palm and blows kiss*

Much has indeed happened since I last wrote here. With the recent launch of Bridgerton Season 3, there is anything but lack of gossip that this author's hiatus should indicate. The previous posts were excerpts of emotional trauma I underwent two years ago. It was more than just about publishing the truth behind all the gossips and rumours about me. I write for no one but myself and my loyal readers. But I also write for the ones without a voice and survivors of abuse whose silence and discretion do not imply weakness but the contrary entirely. 

The day I wish to share about is 17th June, 2024. It was a festive atmosphere in our college that day because it was Tyohar, an annual event that celebrated different Indian cultures. My friends and I had the best time, indulging in the performances and Bhangra Night. Driven by each other's company, we went above and beyond on our plans for Tyohar this year. My friend dressed up me and my partner to look like a proper Bengali couple. It was a dream come true for me to don a 'Lal par sada saree' (red bordered white saree) and payal- that too paired with my 'Bangali bor' dressed in gold dhoti-kurta and white drapes pinned with a chained brooch! Our friend was a knight in a shining saree that day for bringing so many poetic ideas to life. 

All went well until the end. Nothing had prepared any of us for what was about to happen that night. It's certainly alarming when the men and boys that the news and mothers warn you about are no longer random strangers on a TV screen but someone from class- or worse, someone's friend. 

What if he has influential parents who helps him get away with failed drug tests and a friend circle that idolises him to the point where they would hurt his rape victims for speaking up? What if his victim is bound by these fears and shutting herself out for her own sanity and protection? What if you spend the next night with her to comfort her and end up breaking a dozen hostel rules (which everyone else gets away with) and offending staffs and your parents? 

Does it matter what she was wearing if there are women in Burqas and infants who have barely breathed thrice, who met the same fate? Does it matter where she was if there are so many unreported rape cases of female astronauts in outer space, as well as daughters, sisters, nieces and wives who were raped under their own home's roof? Does it matter if she was sober or drunk when  there are men out there- both sober AND drunk- walking around securely after having raped and molested so many, only to wear the count as badges of honour and blatantly brag about their crimes? Honestly, if men are supposed to have a high body count and women are supposed to be virgins, then who is sleeping with the men?!

Dear reader, if at this point you ask- what exactly happened that night? Then you are as oblivious and ignorant as everyone who lets rape happen and protects rapists under the radar of "family" and "politics". This author has said far more than necessary to convey what happened that night, as well as the night after. It does not matter who she is. She could be anybody, including you. 

What matters is how truly aware we are in this hyperaware, high functioning, "modern" society. Who are the rules and laws protecting? How many rapists and molesters have we personally known and continue to talk to? Do we know how consent works? When we participate in these conversations, are we defending the right people? Have we deconstructed all the internalised misogyny that is installed in our brains as we grow up? When someone confides in us with such experiences, do we hush them for "their own protection" or place guns and daggers in their hands to kill their abuser? 

A world that allows and tolerates human trafficking, rape and all other forms of sex crimes, needs the rise of more people like Aileen Wuornos and more movies like Bulbul. 

With this note, this author would like to wind up this post here. It was quite the satisfying stretch my words and I needed. In the words of Lady Whistledown herself, "There are two things that lurk within the dark and shadowy places of our fair city- vermin and secrets. I shall leave it to you, dear reader, as to which do the most harm."

Yours truly,

H