Dear Balu,

I was a foolish 17 year old when I first laid my eyes on you. Hormonal, yearning for love and unable to realise that love could not be forced. I had grown up on Heathcliffe and Catherine, and on tales of charming young men rescuing their princesses from danger. For me, Aladdin and Prince Charming were epitomes of brave and charming. 

What did I know that Prince Charming was an idiot who tried to find the woman he shared one dance with by her feet and that Aladdin was a compulsive liar. You were lounging in the school library, without a care to the world. For me it was love at first sight.

For you, you gave me a smirk as if you knew the effect you had on me. I fell head over heels in love, unknowing that I was in for six years of hurt and turmoil.

The days passed and I nursed my longing for you deeply. The passion I had for you was overwhelming and I knew that a handsome man like you would never go for a wallflower and plain Jane like me. So I cherished you from afar. 

And then, I was discovered, mocked at by your cool boys. And you surprised everyone by extending a hand.

“Why me?” I whispered against your chest.

“Why not you?” He answered, cocky as ever.

And so the plain Jane fell in love with the bad boy. Then, time made fools of us. For all the sneaking around in the school corridors and whispering sweet nothings to me, I was under a spell. A spell that I could not get away from.

I then went away to college in Coimbatore while you were already at JNU, rebelling against the system. Slowly, your charming self unravelled into a darker self.

You had demands I could not maintain, because I just was not ready for the steps you wanted. I compromised with a kiss, but you slowly rolled your eyes at me. I would often find myself thinking if I could compromise on my virginity. 

But I just could not bring myself to take that step because I would be betraying myself and everything I stood for. In the end, the decision was taken from my hand when I came to meet you in Delhi on your 20th birthday. 

Was she beautiful? Did she spread her legs for you? Or was she rich and like you? She wore a barely there dress while I was in a jeans and kurti, she had pixie cut hair while I let my long tresses loose. 

I was the mallu traditional idiot, while she was the cunning and charming woman you were sleeping with. The betrayal was too much. I confronted you and you shrugged. I broke up with you but you choked me and said,

“ But I am not done with you, you little idiot.”

I woke up, no clothes, my voice slurred and your little whore draped around you as you mocked me. 

“ I guess I can keep you now. Your precious virginity is mine.”

I went back home, traumatized but there was nothing to be done.  Who would believe me?

The days that followed were a nightmare. I blocked you on all forms of contact, but my trauma was too much for me. I decided that this life was not worth living and I drank the Harpic under the kitchen sink.

But did you know that I was actually loved by the boy who had been my best friend? You would know, as you had pressured me into doing away with him. You did not know he was watching out for me, you did not know he suspected something was amiss, you did not know he followed me to Delhi and the only alibi you had against me was shattered as I survived the trauma you infected on me.

I recovered from that trauma and I had the courage to stand in front of you and testify against you.  I watched as you were taken away and I could finally breathe.

Today, as I write these words, my husband stands next to me and reassures me as I watch you being convicted for life. I breathe free and hold my head high

Yours truly,

A victim of your abuse..