‘My tutor killed my innocence, stole my childhood’

A young man relives the painful memory of being sodomised at the tender age of seven

The year was 2004, and I was a mere 7-year-old then, when I went through a phase of a life which haunts me till today, though I try to bury it in the land of long-lost bad memories. The episode, against my will, keeps on flashing in my mind.

At the time, a prosperous family lived in front of our house. Their eldest son, who was a friend of my brother, gave me tuitions at his place. He was 19 years old then and his sister was my best friend. Once because of my engagement in a wedding, I could not complete my homework, for which I received a heavy punishment.

He slapped me twice and took me to his bedroom. Tying my hands, he thrust my face against the pillow and executed his devilish plan.

I cried and shrieked but as there was no one else in the house and the television volume high, my screams went unheard. He also warned me to not tell anyone about this incident.

In the coming days, this became a regular habit. Now he didn’t even need a reason: any day he wished, he pulled my pants down and did what he liked. This continued for a year. I could not tell my brother.

My parents were separated and father was never there to listen. There was no one I could tell this to.

On his birthday, after my brother and many of his mutual friends had left, he introduced me to his other friends and boasted about the things he did to me.

I was a smooth cute boy for them with no facial hair on my face. Very soon, during my tuitions, his friends visited and used me to experiment pornographically influenced sexual acts.

Eventually, my brother got to know about the abuse. My elder brother, the only person in my family from whom I expected some justice, warned me to not visit that place. The 8-year-old boy was told that you shouldn’t talk of this to anyone, or else the family reputationshall be in danger.

I piously followed what my brother said. But in 2007, an uncle who visited the locality temple, used to stare at me. He once asked me to accompany him to the rear compound of the temple, where he groped me and forcibly kissed me. I came home crying. Again, no one to tell.

However, in Class 8, when my school friends tried to do similar things with me, I told their parents. But to my surprise, they laughed off the acts, saying that such things happened when boys played.

I told my cousin about this, who motivated me to file a police report against the culprits.

However, when my brother learnt of this, he said the family’s reputation would be in tatters and anyhow I was not a girl who could get raped. I was made to accept such acts as something which kept happening to every boy.

Till today, I can’t make an eye to eye contact with a male teacher. Through my school days, I faced serious problems with male teachers, especially when they asked me questions or looked at me for an answer.

Suicidal thoughts came to me while I went through that depressing phase. Men think that if a boy is innocent looking and not so masculine, he is weak, that they can take all the pleasures of his soft body.

That’s what exactly happened with me, time and again. I was asked to grow a beard and not complain but such perpetrators need no excuse.

My ‘tutor’ killed my innocence, stole my childhood from me. My wounds might have healed but the scars remain!