UNTIL I SAY IT IS OVER

He thought it would be easier to pull me down. To kill my name. To silence my voice. It's not about what he thinks of me but how he thinks we can be silenced by bringing up our hidden secrets. It's the way he imagines I would hide under a chasm and disappear. He might have dreamt of me crying in a corner, stripped of power and dignity. And he would be celebrating it with his friends for uncovering and exposing my sexuality. But that’s his revenge? For rejecting him? Seriously, why are boys so predictable? And the way they assume girls’ power depends on their biology. I can't blame him because of the way he has been primed. And momentarily, I let him win, too. Because I was used to the way society works. But isn't it time for someone to stand up? To those who think this is the norm. That they can never be told no. And that women are defined by standards and moulded by constraints. Well, if he thinks I am over, he is wrong. 

 

 

I and Christy made plans to confront the loser that Salim is. I didn't have anyone by my side before. But as we spoke about this to our maths teacher, she promised to help us with it. Luckily, she managed to bring our teachers on board, too. Collectively, they managed to convince my principal for something that I never imagined. A special class was arranged for students to understand women’s issues and bodies. I was surprised this was even happening in my school. People thought we were undergoing a revolution finally. Because ours is a school where teachers skipped human biology classes so as not to make students feel uncomfortable, and this, by far, has been the greatest change ever. 

 

 

A lot many of them who avoided me actively were now fond of finding me in the hallway to talk about their concerns. This was a welcome change. But what about Salim? I am sure he wouldn't have learned his lesson. He might have changed his target, but I am sure he isn't used to learning. So, I and Christy collected more people on our side. We decided that my confrontation with Salim would happen one-on-one, face-to-face, like I always like. But if things were to turn haywire, they would chime in for help. But what we were to do exactly was still a problem. 

 

Do we talk to their parents? Or do we beat him up? No, that clearly did not work the last time. Do we make friendly dealings and ask him to apologise? The latter might work, but the former sounds creepy. Someone suggested we paint graffiti on the walls to defame him. But will that not make me a coward like Salim? And another said we must stop him on his way to school and give him back what he deserves. And I contemplated it for a while. We discussed it for hours, but nothing made a convincing suggestion. Our brains rot in the process, and I realise there is only one person who can solve this rationally. 

 

Aliza Bhabhi. But how do I reach her? And will it be right to reach out to her when she herself is fighting a battle? I suggested it to Christy, and she said I should try. So, I keep it in the back of my mind to talk to her. Instead of returning home from school, I follow the road leading me to Bhabhi’s home. 

This is a part of BlogchatterA2Z 2025

#penbooksandscalpel