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Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Bitterness within...


My last bog post ended with a reference to ‘Bitter Chocolate’, a terrifying, slightly mind numbing account of child sexual abuse in India. Documenting personal experiences and real- life incidents, Pinki Virani narrates the stories of 3-month old Vaishali who is sexually abused by her domestic servant; of Arun who is regularly sodomized by his father's brother; of 7 year old Prema, who is raped by her father, escapes, and becomes a child prostitute in Kolkata's Sonagaachi; of Tanuja who is ‘touched’ by the local temple panditji; and countless other stories of boys and girls, abused by men and women, of rich and poor households. Very few are reported to the police. Even fewer convicted. Often the child, unable to articulate what is happening to him/ her is ignored or not believed by his/ her parents. Or the family represses the incident for fear of infamy. Or the law lets the perpetrators go scott- free. Mind you, in majority of the cases, the perpetrator is a family member and a large proportion of incidents occur in well- to- do families like yours and mine. 

I wonder how one’s conscience lets one commit or repress such heinous acts. Child sexual abuse is not an issue of subjective opinion. It is WRONG. And this too is an understatement. If a child is not safe even within his/ her home, what hope does he/ she have in the outside world?

It’s been just over a month since I finished reading the book and what is frightening is that my memory’s already fading on the details. Yes, I was appalled. I was in fact, mighty depressed for a week after reading it. All I could think of were the children in my family and extended family, in my immediate environs, of how one had to teach them good touch and bad touch, of the loopholes in law, of the thousands of children who are, at this very moment, going through some reparable and some irreparable physical and emotional trauma, in our homes, on the streets, in classrooms, behind closed doors…

Which brings me to how I was ‘reminded’ of the book again. I too went through something similar in my childhood and remember telling my mother about it then and there. It was a ‘bad touch’ and it sent shockwaves through my system. I was 8, but I understood. He was reprimanded, I think and that was the end of it. Today, I am an emotionally and physically strong person. And I feel privileged. I do have minor hiccups though... It was Diwali a few days back and it was time to greet all family members whom I don’t see otherwise, on phone. But there was one phone call I avoided, like I have all these years. I still can’t bear to hear his voice…