They asked me to stop spiralling,

As I tried explaining them

Repeatedly,

How Uncle John hurt me,

Whenever he paid a visit.

Cajoling me,

He slid his hand

And tightened the grip,

Stalled for several hours,

By narrating Vikram Betal stories

And then offered me, my favourite toffee.

Chewing it, i tried forgetting the pain.



I would be

Victim-shamed throughout my life,

Due to our historically intense patriarchy.

Everyone would drag my name through the mud,

So they shut me.

Stepping up against him,

Would jeopardize my life

They thought.

According to their theories,

I was just another irrational feminist.

So they left me,

To live with it.

Haunting me every minute, every second.

It became my worst nightmare

And like a leech, it fed on me.

As they turned oblivious to objectivity,

Trapped in their pseudo-realistic minds.