If anything, the worst thing that happened that day was that two boys had done what is reserved for men and women at best and teenage boys and girls at worst. That I was supposed to give permission for it to happen was a thought I had never encountered before.
To even consider that I had been violated would have demanded many impossible explanations from me, regarding my own participation in it and the fact that I liked how it felt. Nobody fought, nobody cried, nothing was sore. It was nothing like what we are told rape is. The shade suddenly seemed too much, with me still not allowed to see what was being done to me. He pulled my shorts down and gently penetrated me. I was not allowed to see what he was doing behind me. He told me to stand facing the wall with my hands up. Eventually the sun always got too hot for us and we would seek out shade.Īlthough there was ample shade along the boundary walls enclosing the pool, he insisted that we go to the other side of the house where the garage wall and the neighbour’s boundary wall made a concealed alleyway. When we had enough of swimming, we would lay our towels down on the hot paving and lay on our bellies to dry in the sun. As always, we touched and played with each other under the water – incorporating our little explorations into the rules of our make-believe games. It was the height of summer in Cape Town, on the South African coast, and I had invited my friend around for a swim. On the day I was raped, the weather was wonderful. We liked the sensations however premature they were to us. Until then, our fascination with our erections led us as far as touching and feeling the shame and condemnation building up in our penises at the most inopportune times. He was one of two older neighbourhood boys I started exploring my body with. A childhood friend, a few years older than me, did it. Pleasure is not meant for us to have – it is taken from us. People like me are a warning, warding off wayward, intrusive thoughts of freedom. They are always to be advertised, yet perpetually hidden. ‘Major’ review: Adivi Sesh ably steers courage-under-fire sagaīodies like mine were never meant to be cared for.Harsh Mander: How some exploited India’s Covid-19 crisis to make money.A letter to Narendra Modi: Why the sight of the Gyanvapi mosque in Varanasi gave me a rude jolt.Why attempts to revive traditional Sikh instruments at gurdwaras have failed for 90 years.A shoddy probe let policemen off the hook Their daughter's killing was a test case in Chhattisgarh.US government report flags attacks on minorities in India took place throughout 2021.Manmohan Singh vs Narendra Modi: Who handled the Indian economy better?.How did China view India at the time Buddhism entered through its borders?.Bengaluru’s metro rail project has a dark side to it.Why many in Assam are unhappy with a proposal to count ‘Assamese Muslims’.How Modi’s interest has given new life to a 30-year-old Indo-Japanese animated film on the Ramayana.
‘My Daughter Joined a Cult’ web series revisits spiritual leader Nithyananda’s alleged crimes.