I looked above to see patches of white scattering over the blue with the hint of moving black. He was staring down at the patterns of orange and red formed in different shapes and size beneath us. We were quiet, lost in our own thoughts, wondering about things that Google couldn’t answer. He would time and again look at the pale white face and smearing eyes to see if the moisten lips were ready to begin. But the lips would rather stay quiet. There was too much going on in the brain.
The tears had started to flow the moment we met. He always brought that side in me. The side that felt safe to share my inner self with him, the side that felt okay to be me when I was with him and the side felt alright to show the real me. Things had not been going easy for me. With events and incidents that had been taking place one after another, I had lost control over the time and space continuum. I was no longer me. And I had no idea who this new me was. He waited for my eyes to dry out before his voice echoed out.
“What’s the matter?”
His face had darkened and I could clearly see frowns all over his face that grew with worries. I decided to stay quiet and instead hug him. His warmth made my tears more uncontrollable and for another 5-10 minutes, we just stayed still as I cried, trying to stop time and again but failing. His arms around me got tighter as he patiently waited for me to stop.
“It’s nothing. I just had an emotional outbreak.” I finally let myself heard in between the cries and tears. I could not bring myself to talk to him about what was going in my head. It was far too painful and disturbing.
I couldn’t tell him that before coming to see him all I thought about was how disgusting men were. I couldn’t say that I had begun to hate ‘male species’ including my father, little brother and even him. That I loathed them, these species who exploited and abused someone just because they thought they were better than that someone. And I hate myself and all the other females out there. I hate how we have always stayed quiet no matter what these men did to us. How we never raised our voice, yet alone hands and fists, each time we got exploited and abused, physically, psychologically and sexually. But most importantly, I hated the society we were in. I hated how the society always found fault of women. How it always taught us that it’s women’s fault if we got raped because we dressed too scantily or behaved obscenely, arousing men.
I couldn’t tell him that there was this anger burning in me, the flame that I didn’t want to put out. That I want to use this anger to perish the guilty ones, the anger that could probably lead me to the path of destruction. And I couldn’t tell him how helpless I felt because of the law that never supported the victims and the physical weakness, we the females had. Helpless, because I could not do anything to ease down the pain of those women out there.
My world was suddenly shattering again, into infinite pieces as I lost track of it. I felt betrayed and hurt by these men and women and societies that we lived in. And felt that the world I always dreamt about will never exist. This frustrated me and depressed me more. No, I could not tell him all these because he probably might never understand. Mainly because I cannot explain these things to him, I cannot make him understand.
But I want him to understand. Him and everyone else. I want them to know that today, when I go to temple I no longer ask for freedom that my mother and aunts never had, I no longer pray for world peace and eternal happiness. I have learnt that these things will never exist, not even in Utopia. Instead I pray for a safe world for women out there, safe from the prying eyes of men and the hunger they try to satisfy by exploiting and abusing the weaker ones.