Gurgaon: Cosmopolitan culture or Rape culture?

Description

This article was written last year when this situation took place. I was barely entering 11th grade. Now, as I leave high school with flashbacks of this day and all the times my body has been the empty canvas for boys to splatter paint on, I will tell you the story of a 10th grader in Gurgaon.

"The stranger’s lips grazed upon the ends of my cheek. My bruised arm was pinned down on the dusty grey ground of the room while I kept my alert eyes outside on the faces of unknown men in uniform. They smirked as the stranger slid his snake-like fingers down my body. He struggled to undo the button. I could feel my eyes turn red when I bit him hard into his shoulder and in a small voice said, “No, I have to leave. I don’t like this.” I felt the empty liquor bottle against my legs and his hands against my flesh. I jerked up and pushed him aside. My head buzzed of alcohol and panic as I managed to stand up and look around. Did I really want this? He straightened up and pressed my frail body upon the naked wall. No, I did not. I pushed him aside and ran towards the open hall. Men of all ages stood on the railings, oblivious of the act. My cheeks burned of forced kisses and shame. Holding my shoes in my hands, I scurried through the staircase in the search of a known face. Who was I looking for? Who was I running from? I reached the cold lobby of an office. I stared at the entrance, and there he was- my strange glaring at my anxious face. He shoved my stiff self on the closed elevator, seeking to unfasten my pair of shorts. He settled for forcing his slithering fingers down my waist. He whispered, “I am going to finger you like an asshole,” as I whimpered and hopped away from him. I felt the back of my clothes, seeking for a phone. It wasn’t there. A rush of panic and exhaustion, and I fled out of the office to the hallway. I rummaged around the building, exploring every step I took earlier, to search for a prized possession. It was not there. My eyes burned even more now. Tears blinded my vision and settled on my raw cheeks. He was behind me. I rushed downstairs and headed for the busy road. It was broad daylight, as I scuttled barefoot in the search of my friend. It was too late. She was gone, and my stranger was behind me, grabbing my shirt. His strong hands ripped the cloth. My bare back became exposed to the blinking lights and stare of million nameless men. I cried for help but nobody cared enough to hear. I ran faster, without the possession of a phone, money or my bag. Why was I here? I gazed at the crowd nearby. I came to rest on a staircase. Tears ran down my face, unknown figures settled around me but in my head, I knew what to do. “Him,” I whispered as I strived to punch the familiar number down on a phone.
Do you remember the moment when you were child and you had gone astray from your parents in a crammed up market place? How at that moment, you were devoid of any thoughts and the only thought of worth was how to get back to your safe haven? Do you remember the worry on their faces? That moment was of such magnitude. I shook back and forth, glancing through abundant faces, unable to see his delicate features muddled up with concern. Men and women walked past me, putting forward a helping hand but I did not trust them. It was a matter of minutes, when his agonized face rushed past me. I stood up and ran towards his open arms. The world stood still as he held me. I took in the accustomed smell of his cologne and felt a homesick wave crash on the walls of my head. “I’m scared, he’s going to find me.” I said, and that was enough for him to know. He took out a grey shirt from his bag and walked me out of the eyesight of alien people. “Wear it,” he murmured and propped his hand on my shoulders to pull me close. He rescued my other friend from the clutches of my stranger and his friends and departed from the cursed location. The ride ended at my house. He held my face and in a low voice, inaudible to my friend in the next room, asked me for a favour. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said anxiously, as if reading my mind. The state of my friend was beyond the category of wasted, and following his given duty, he picked her up from the marble floor and led her towards the society’s gates. He waved a brief goodbye and timidly walked away from me.
Sometimes, you don’t need words to explain how you feel. Sometimes, you just know. Like that, I just knew. There, enfolded in his scent from his shirt, I felt possible. I was petrified from the episode, but his face made it easier to breathe in. Sometimes, you don’t need to be dating or loving somebody for months to feel comfortable with. You don’t need to kiss him, or even have him around you all the time. Just his nervous presence lingering around you in that moment is enough to demonstrate and establish a brief connection. He was my safe haven, even if for those few minutes. I was sorry that it was over but all the more glad, he was there for me. When he said those words on the phone, they were a formality. But standing there in the park, watching him walk towards the gates, I could feel it happening. It may not have been an episode of such importance for him, but for me, it changed everything.
I’m sorry that the dance ended, but there, in your arms, I swear the world stood impossibly still."

I attempted suicide a few hours later, but I was saved. And I live to be strong, and tell you this story.