Today my best friend
Rhea told me her story, a small part of it though. But it left me with many
questions. Questions on the priorities of our lives. The worth of a relationship
is best appreciated during hard times. But should the bourgeoisie of the
society affect, what we feel for each other? What is more important the society
or the relationships?
After months of
caging her like an endangered animal in her house, with visitors flooding in to
catch a glimpse of her, today she was finally allowed to be a part of the so
called civilised society again. She came to college, and we were seated on the
same bench in front of the canteen as usual. We are students of the Psychology
department of University Of Calcutta. A name known for its heritage across West
Bengal and beyond. The sun was about to hide behind the unknown horizon
spreading its delectable crimson rays across. A bunch of migratory birds were
flying in a straight line across the heart of the evening sky. The tea vendor
in the canteen was busy serving tea to a bunch of noisy freshers. And few guys
with unknown faces were casting us with questioning glances and releasing puffs
of smoke in the air. The eastern part of the country sees the setting sun early
besides it was winter, it was mid-January.
Rhea was silent, she
was silent throughout the day. When professors and friends had asked her about
her health condition, she had answered them with an awkward affirmative nod,
meaning she was fine. Her clumsiness had refrained them from shooting a bunch
of gossip building questions. I did not ask her anything, I did not believe
what the newspapers were buzzing with these days and I just wanted her to be
fine. So I brought her to our favourite corner in the campus, hoping to see her
brightened face. For a reason completely unknown to me, I was unable to look
directly into her eyes throughout the day. But then I did, the dying rays of
the setting sun fell on her doleful face, I could clearly see the dark circles
and also a small scar on her right cheek, I immediately looked away. After few
seconds of uneasiness, I asked her “Care for some tea…hmmm?”And it was the
first time during the entire day that our gazes met, “Sure” she said and
smiled.
As I was about to
walk towards the canteen to get us some tea, she asked me to wait and then
accompanied me. In no time, we were perched on our favourite bench again, with
tea in clay cups in our hands. This time she started.
“Do you think, I have
missed too much Ashima?” she asked.
“Hmmm?” I asked
inattentively, only to regain senses in a few milliseconds “Nope…..not really,
don’t worry, I will help you!” I smiled lovingly.
“Thanks
Ash…ummmm…don’t you want to ask me anything….like the other people…my friends,
relatives…all of them wanted to know a lot…but…” she stopped.
“But what Rhea? Do
you want to tell me anything?” I asked her.
“Yup…he…he has left
me…he” she stammered painfully and looked down. Though I did not see, I could
feel the tear drops tickling down her scarred cheek. I could feel my muscles
tense and my veins show up on my forehead. Rhea loved Ramanuj immensely, so I
could not believe my ears, though my brain had guessed this long back.
“What?” came out of
my mouth unintentionally.
“Hmmm, after the
September incident he was keeping a distance, I thought he needs time…but
little did I know that he lacked backbone to stand up against his irrational,
illiterate family members for his physically abused partner….” She stopped when
emotions choked her throat. She looked away when I put my hand on her shoulder.
“He did not deserve
you” I said what I believed.
“I did not deserve
all that happened to me, the dark September night turned my life upside down…lost,
defeated I returned only to be shunned from the society, shunned by the person
I loved most….Ashima I don’t have anything against those drunken
illiterates…..I feel ashamed of the so called literate society around me….it is
only a few who really felt my sore….even the closest people were more
interested in the spicy details of the incident…” she continued. I wanted to
stop her, I did not want my friend to go through that pain all over again. I
did not want the poisonous nails to scratch her dignity any further. “Rhea…let
it be…try to forget…” I could not complete.
“Forget…huh…never
Ashima…never…even if you and I want to eradicate that dark episode off my
life…no one will let me do so…I pity mommy and dad…they walk around like
ashamed criminals…my aunts, my uncles, cousins and even the media only searched
for scoops, tangy, saleable…no one bothered of the pain that evoked deep within
me…when they asked me…how many men groped me…how many nasty hands touched my
dignity…no one bothers Ash…no one” tears of resentment pent up had found flood
gates, and I let them flow. Rhea wept and wept until her lungs gave away. Then
she started narrating those details which I refrained from asking, fearing of
hurting her, she went into oblivion.
It was 12th
September an usual college day for all of us. We had our practical class and
were a bit late that evening. Rhea and I had taken the same auto from near our
college to M.G. Road Metro station. From there I had taken a metro to Dum Dum
and she had taken one to Park Street. The metros had moved in opposite
direction as expected. It was 8:00 pm when Rhea reached Park Street Metro
Station and was waiting for an auto to take her to her home, where her parents
waited for their only child to return. The metro station was unusually empty
that evening. Rhea had already started to feel uneasy, when her mobile phone
went ablaze with “Baba Calling”, she immediately answered the call. An anxious
voice, which she remembers vaguely to be her father’s was constantly yelling
desperately “there has been some political party fights near Park Street Metro
Station, avoid that area…avoid…avoid”. But before she could realise what was
going on, dark shadows of unknown faces were cast on her and rough hands had
grabbed her. What followed next, was a never-ending phase of physical abuse,
demean and derogation and her meek and futile attempts to save herself. Rhea
had no clue, how long she had endured the torture before a bunch of college
going boys came to her rescue, followed by the patrolling police. She was
immediately taken to the nearby hospital in unconscious condition. Her
tormentors had fled and fled for good. Being supporters of some local political
party leader, police and administration could not touch them, even with enough
witnesses.
Little did my friend
know, that her persecution had just started! The media pounded on her, like a
hungry wolf in search of tangy scoop. Newspapers, TV channels flooded with the
news of a young college girl, being alone in a problem stricken area, late at night
and raped by some antisocials, who were supposedly drunk. Questions started to
be raised and eyebrows creased. What was she doing in an area, which was under
high alert? Why was she alone at that hour of the night (8:00 pm is late
night), was she waiting for her lover? Why did she choose to wear western, body
hugging clothes (she was wearing a jeans and T-shirt)? An incident which was
nothing more than physical abuse and torture, was blown out of proportion to
increase viewership and accelerated to appear like rape. Whispers and gossip
gave birth to a cacophony of disgrace. Rhea’s parents transformed to cocoons
and she a living body without a soul.
She was substantially
physically hurt as well and was released from hospital after 10 days of
treatment. Doctors advised her to be kept away from anxiety and take rest for
atleast a month. Her physical pain started to reduce in due course of time but
her mental torment was beyond her abilities to endure. The landline never
ceased to ring and her parents never ceased to explain to the unfeeling world,
that their ill-fated daughter was not raped. Then started the visits, the
relatives and friends who never, ever cared for their existence suddenly
appeared from nowhere. As if deprived of sleep and peace, they had come running
to enquire of her well-being. Truly, how hypocrite people can be!!! Their only
intention was to know the details of the incident and derive sadistic pleasure
out of her agony.
However in this
incongruity, one phone and one visit was craved by Rhea. Ramanuj! Why was he so
cold to all that was happening in her life? He neither called nor visited her
after that incident. And as she was under constant scrutiny, she too was unable
to contact him. Insecurity and pain was clouding inside her heart. Her brain
knew what this coldness meant but her heart defied the truth. “No, Ramanuj
loves me…he can never be this heartless…to leave me alone…when I need him the
most!” said her heart.
Days, weeks and
months passed, she tried contacting him but in vain. Neither her calls were
answered nor were her texts replied. She even asked me to contact him, but I
was unable to do so. Dark lonely nights witnessed her melancholy as she wiped
tears of distress. Her kohl lined questioning eyes, stared at the creaky
ceiling fan for hours, “What am I? Who am I? , they asked to the unknown voids
that had secretly settled in her life without her consent.
That morning was
dark, just like other days. She got up with a bad headache, her right cheek had
inflamed again. Probably she had scratched the wound, unaware during sleep. Her
eyes were red and fluffy, she must have wept to sleep. Sleepily she walked over
to the bathroom to freshen up. The mirror which once looked back at her with a
youthful naughty grin and eyes full of life, scared her that day. She looked
ghastly, barely a shadow of her true self.
Then suddenly she sprang
to life with the ringing of her mobile phone. That was the ringtone she had set
for Ramanuj. Her fragile body instantly gathered strength and she ran to answer
the call. But alas before she could reply the line was cut. Off late she had
stopped stalking him in her dreams, the call had rekindled the diming light.
She immediately called back only to hear “the number has been switched off”. So
she decided to leave one last message “I don’t know what has distanced you from
me, in my knowledge I am not at fault of committing any crime. I had expected
your support…your love…but alas I got none. Now what I expect is just a
reply…just tell me what you have kept inside….Rhea.” Time ticked off. But
Ramanuj did not text back, she kept checking and checking and days passed by.
The phone call had revived some hope, but disconnection had started to feel suffocating
again.
She wanted to stop herself from checking her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She couldn't stop herself despite of trying hard. This
sinking feeling to find absolutely no communication from him was killing her
And then the message appeared and swiped her off her feet.
But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn't know if he was joking or not. What was this?
And then the message appeared and swiped her off her feet.
But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn't know if he was joking or not. What was this?
His reply said “I am
sorry. But as you must have already understood, this relationship is over. My
parents will never be able to accept you, after all this scandal. I cannot
blame them, the society is such…take care.”
And this was Rhea’s
last reply “Thank you…for letting out yourself. This society is such, because
creatures like you and your parents form a part of it. This episode which is a
shameful scandal for you and your family…is the hard core and painful reality
of my life. Thanks again for sparing my life from your dark presence…you
exemplify that literacy cannot make anyone human. Get yourself some life, some
light. A relationship that changes status for reasons as you have stated is not
worth living. Will never want to see your face again!” The send button was not
easy to press but she eventually did. For the next few moments, time came to a
standstill as she shrieked out her deepest emotions in the form of painful
cries.
The impact of baseless societal norms makes us unfeeling and robs us of basic humanity. The impact of that single incident changed so many lives and so many outlooks.
Aritra Chakrabarty Sengupta
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