‘I pray that some day I will sleep without seeing those hands in my dream’

Anonymous
The writer is a 24-year-old lawyer based in Chennai

I HATE THOSE HANDS and would recognise them anywhere. I have hated them since I can remember. I am 24, fairly successful and independent, and yet when I close my eyes there are times I go back to when I was probably six or seven years old. Most little girls dream of having a big brother to spoil them, pamper them, fuss over them and love them unconditionally.

I was no different, I wanted all of that and got it as well.

My big brother was the best ever. I spent hours hiding behind the door peeping into his room. I was in awe of him. I thought he was the most intelligent and fun person in the world. Nothing made me happier than to just sit beside him and watch him study, or read his big fat novel or just be around him and act all grown-up. He was the perfect older brother.

I have tears as I write this. There is so much anger in me, and I do not know where and what to divert that anger towards. Sometimes I wish I could tear his eyes out, but then how would he see himself every morning?

I blame myself largely for what happened to me and nothing will change that.

I was six years old; I was a child, yet there he was touching me and making me do things that I shouldn’t have done or been through. I have hated myself for very long and blamed myself for even longer, and yet chose to stay silent and suffer because I do not think anyone can understand the scars my ever-so-loving elder brother has left me with.

I would have probably, and I say probably after a lot of contemplation because I am not certain, forgiven myself if it had happened just once and the perpetrator was only one. But, being a cute child turned out to be a curse for me.

I remember my neighbour feeling me up, and again, not once or twice, but on several occasions. I visited their house to play with his little sisters and while they all hid when we played hide-and-seek, I was made to sit on the lap of my neighbour while he touched me in places that make me cringe.

I cry because I was naïve and I cry because this has made me bitter. I am a normal young woman; I have a large group of friends and am loved by most of them. But I live with shame and guilt that I cannot share with anyone because it will mean people will empathise and feel sad for me.

Watching Monsoon Wedding made me howl. That was me, I went through that and, in a strange sense, I am glad I am not alone. It happens every day, but that doesn’t make it any less painful. The question is still WHY ME?

What pinches me the most is that I have to smile every time I see him. I was the one who tied the mangalsutra for his wife when he got married, I performed all the duties a sister-in-law has to. All of this with a smile on my face.

I have forgiven him but can never ever forgive myself. I will continue holding myself responsible for it, I will continue to have bad dreams and wake up in tears. I pray every night that some day I will be able to sleep without having to see those hands in my dream.

I hate to admit that I care for my brother, no matter what he did. I still smile when I see him; the smile is as genuine as can be.

I am not a saint. I feel the anger and hatred but, unfortunately, the love I have for him is so much more than the other feelings. I just want him to come up to me once and tell me he made a mistake and that he is sorry. Then I will sleep without seeing those hands in my dreams. What the neighbour did to me does not hurt as much as what my brother did.

I chose not to do anything about it not only because he is family but because somewhere I also feel that I was to blame; maybe I did something which led him to believe it was all right.

I do not have answers. Neither am I looking for them. I just want to be able to sleep without waking up feeling scared that someone is going to touch me, or is looking at me. I just need to forget it and forget it for ever.

Maybe some day I will be stronger and will be able to come out and not be anonymous about what happened with me.

But, for now, I believe that some secrets are best left alone. •