My curves are to be proud of and not to feel guilty about!
I was not the most good looking girl in the circle around, but my body always had the much needed curves. And being a young girl in grade 6, I achieved the mark comparatively earlier than my fellow girl friends. I was growing, and completely unaware about the changes. I still had that childish instinct inside me, who fanatically wanted to cycle all evening along with friends, in that close knit colony of Ram Nagar.
Well it was a usual evening, when I was cycling around the colony. It was time to change the route. Who will go from where? Who will meet whom in which GALLI (lane). The meeting had a warm discussion that stood highly important for us.
While the discussion was on- I saw a guy coming from in front of me. There was something strange about him. He was walking and was looking at me, in a way that could easily be termed as a stare. A stare that could snatch away the peace inside your heart. A stare that can make you most uncomfortable. A stare that had something vulgar, something uneasy about it. I looked at him with some restraint in my eyes. Making and ditching the eye contact again and again.
He came closer every second, and my heart palpitated faster. Something was wrong, but what? The boy came nearest to me, and within a fraction of second he groped the newly arriving body part. He was so quick that NO ONE, absolutely NO ONE saw what he did.
Committing the heinous act, he just passed by. Squeamish till death, I turned around to look at him, and found that he was walking ahead with his head turned to get a glimpse of my face and expression. There was a grin on his face, that was malicious, dirty and venomous. It was so obvious that he was not feeling anything bad about what he did, rather was proud of his velocity and swiftness.
I was numbed. I felt extremely unpleasant. Bad about myself. Bad about the curve that I had acquired recently. Giving up the desire to cycle anymore, I ran inside home. Mummy was in the kitchen, I hugged her and began to howl like a wolf.
‘What happened?’ she asked in a worrisome tone. I kept on crying. Her questions and tension increased. After constant questioning and probing, the incident was narrated. I remember her small almond eyes protruded out of her chubby face. She jerked me off behind and shouted,
‘Tumne usko pakad kar chappal se kyun nahi mara?’ ‘Tum chillayi kyun nahi? Tumne usko jane kaise diya??’ (Why did you let him go and not hit him with a slipper?)
My cry turned into mild sobs. I told her I was ashamed.
‘Usko sharam ani chahiye, tumko nahi!’ (He should be ashamed, not you!)
My eyes looked for the guy for days and months. I wanted to beat the hell out of him. But he never returned. Coward!