I see him everyday- At the bus stop At the coffee shop At the market At the bank Wherever I go I see him. I close my eyes and grind my teeth Sometimes, I can feel my knees go weak That's when I abruptly take a seat Compose myself so that I don't scream. He looks at me often With an air of nonchalance As if nothing ever happened As if it is all a part of my imagination. His ignorance makes me question My own conscience My memories Was it indeed a lie? My teachers always said “She is an imaginative child” But how could this be a lie? Trust me, I wish. Only if. He stands before me in the line Waiting to deposit cash His saliva coated fingers are coarse- Softly grazing the tip of the notes He taps his foot relentlessly Restless and impatient Barely glancing over his back I shudder as I feel a wave of shock Overwhelmed by guilt and shame Am I really at fault? For what? For being a temptress? For wearing a dress that showed my knees? For painting my nails a seductive red? For trusting him? For promising to be only his? For refusing to budge on being touched? The scene is very vivid. I wish it was a blur I see him laughing with his friends Cracking lewd jokes, drinking beer While I cover my arms and hide my face Away from people I try to steer. He took the mirth away from me He took away my life I see my rapist roaming free The court wants me to be his wife.
By Debadrita Sur