Wednesday, 14 September 2016

A Filthy Gaze

image from iStock

Back from tuition, I ran straight for my bath. Shower ran non-stop; head to toe. With it ran my heart, heavy and drenched,  sinking through the drain.

My mother called out, knocked, banged and yelled for holding in there for about an hour.

I could not tell her I was dirtied too much to be easily cleansed. I could not tell her that i was trying hard to scrub a filthy gaze that rubbed against me, EVERYWHERE. The gaze that still lingered and crawled over me.

Later that day, mother asked me to run down the street for some curry leaves and coriander. At a pan shop, I could see that man ogle, his eyes scanning what my clothes covered.  My blood felt frozen and my feet went cold. My bruised soul could not take another disgustingly penetrating stare. I didn't care for the curry leaves or coriander but this, I could not tell my mother. 

I could not tell her I feel raped. How I want to wipe off that leer but water does no good, tears don't help.