note for sexual violence 

it broke me 

when he touched me 

on my back – on my bottom 

on that lonely street, 

at that odd time, 

asking, 

“shall we have sex?” 

‘sex’ was one thing 

i had not known at ten 

i headed home, 

i informed amma.* 

‘something that was not supposed to happen happened’ was her reaction. 

indeed! it was not supposed to happen 

but, it happened. 

yet, why did amma’s reaction make me feel as though 

it was my fault 

to walk boldly 

on that lonely street, 

at that odd time? 

oh, the irony! 

disgust 

shame 

fear 

anger 

regret 

gulped me from head to toe 

inch by inch 

for choosing to walk alone boldly, 

on that lonely street, 

at that odd time. 

i never again touched that skirt 

that beige skirt – i absolutely hated it 

as an invisible handprint was embedded on it, more accurately saying, 

on me. 

i believed that it broke me

but NO. 

it just broke my tenderness. 

it took ages 

to realise just it, 

to walk again boldly, 

on lonely streets, 

at odd times – again 

ready to fight back 

whatever it takes! 

yet, 

that beige skirt 

lives in the corner of that wooden cupboard 

kept washed and folded 

never to be touched 

never to be worn – by me 

EVER, AGAIN. 

amma – mother in Tamil language 

I was ten years old. On Sundays, I had to attend English tuition. It was one fine Sunday afternoon at 3 pm. I argued with my mother to let me go to the tuition alone at 2 pm, and I returned home at 3 pm. It was then that a strange man on a motorbike came up behind me, slapped me on my back, on my bottom, and asked, “shall we have sex?” I only told this to my mother, and she would have told my father, but I didn’t care to know that. 

I kept this incident inside myself until I was twenty four, which was a good 14 years. Only after writing about it did I release the weight from my heart and let it out. That’s when I realised the healing power that the art of writing holds. 

Moreover, the heartwarming thing I experienced is that after reading the above poem, my younger sister came up to me and shared a similar incident that happened to her. She told me that she had also kept the incident to herself until she came and confided in me. 

Oh, to know that you are not alone in what you go through!