Child Sexual Harassment

To understand, relate and lighten kids who have ever experienced harassment in any form

Back after long!

I am back after a gap of more than 2 years now. Things got a little messier in between. But well I am a survivor and will now continue to put my thoughts into words.

As always I plan this blog to be a little like a diary, a journal if you may. A diary that a person who is going throuhh sexual harassment or has faced it in the past will relate to and be comforted by. I know there is a lack of people who understand the pain and emotionally we face and I also understand the importance of having someone who understands, that someone you can freely speak to about everything without any worries of being judged or looked down upon. Please feel free to get in tough with me, even if it’s only for a light conversation.

Believe me I am not the most extrovert person ever, I am the person you will find sitting at the very back of a coffee house, but I will be really happy to help everyone out as much as I can.

I have faced harassment alone and I know it’s not the best feeling.

I also want this to be a place where people an research about child sexual harassment/abuse or generally sexual harassment/abuse and learn about it. I think the society needs to start at the very beginning and learn to not only speak about these issues but also face them and condemn them.

I have personally learnt a lot in these last two years and have grown a lot. I will soon update some of my earlier posts.

Till then be safe, be strong and be happy people! 😀

Momentum of my Life

Hey everybody! I realize I have’nt written for a really long time.

Actually this is the first time I am writing a post without pre-planning it. It feels good. You know why, because bad things just don’t stop happening in my life. And I am frustrated..maybe.

This could be a little help me out here. Pitch in a comment when in doubt.

Oh and anybody who is reading my post for the first time. You would maybe want to start with a previous introductory post of mine, to know a little more about what this is about. A little more details are in this post


So yeah I have always realized how everything in my life has been about those years I was harassed. How all my issue revolve around it. Every thing arises from it. Any thing, actually every single thing that happens in my life is based out of those 4-5 years of my life. People say things go away with time, well I disagree. My whole life is a manifestation of those few  afternoons of happening. (Well actually in my case numerous, but its relative to my life)

Those few afternoons, that i did not understand then, was not prepared for, did not want, and hated. Believe me I have thought hard and long about this. It is the sole root cause for each and every feeling I have.

I don’t bond with my parents. Bam-they failed me then. 

I am a control freak. Bam- times i lost control are my worst memory.

I don’t trust people. Bam- I trusted once. Never again.

I cannot express emotions. Bam- I have been my own emotional support system for way too long.

I build walls around me. Bam- well nobody would want to know about it. 

I think less of myself. Bam- I am not pure, not perfect.


So yes, it justifies everything. But today i know somewhere inside of me, that not everything has to be made about it. I still relate everything, connect it all. But at least I know deep within, that life is not all about one bad experience  I had. It took me time to reach till this point. Took me years to figure out what issues I had, and a few more to understand why. But now I know, and there is hope.

As beautiful as that
As beautiful as that

And it is no longer a dark night. There are tiny stars shining now. That I will follow, and build constellations, and put them in a bag. To show to the world, that I have light in-spite of the darkness it dished out to me.

Nothing in life is easy, not career, love life. Nothing is a fucking walk in the park.

I have been there. I am there every now and then too. But I know, it passes.

It did pass for me it will for everybody.

It is true that the memories don’t ever recede, we just learn to fight our way out. Use them as our strength, see them as experience and not let them pull us down.

So yes something terrible happened today, but believe me, shit happens to everybody.

Maybe a little more to us, but we are so much better at handling it.

We are not weak. Not dependent.

We are survivors. We survive. That is what we do.


Thank you everybody. I hope this makes sense. Well if it doesn’t- just let me know in the comments. I will rephrase and explain everything when I am thinking a little more straight.

FEELINGS REVEALED- When my Rapist shows up on Facebook


I Got Raped With My Consent. That Will Always Be The Most Horrible Memory Of My Life

This story is taken from a website called

I take no credit for this story, but i relate to it, and want more people to read it. The author has remained anonymous.

This is the actual link for the story.

By the way ‘samaj’ in Hindi language means society.


I won’t lie. I belong to an upper middle class family, pretty much a toned down version of an Ekta Kapoor never ending gala. I live in a joint family so the ‘samaaj’ that we are supposed to be scared of, half of it, I think lived with me. The deal with joint families is, it is a great concept for Holi and Diwali, the celebrations are fun but once these festivals are over it is all grey. Every person will have a thousand notions about one single thing and there are quite a number of people to judge you every single second of the day. But there comes a time when you can’t thank your stars enough to have some of those family members in your life who understand you more than anyone in this world. For me, this time came when I told her, my sister, the darkest secret I had kept inside of me for as long as I can remember. I’m glad she asked.

“How is your sex life going?” she asked. That was the first time ever in 26 years of my life that my elder sister was talking to me as openly.

We were somewhere between the seventh season of Grey’s Anatomy when she popped this question. I know the series increases your estrogen levels. Hot steamy men and hotter sexual encounters but us and this conversation? A little surprising.

I tried shying away, but then I saw her staring at me with excitement oozing out of her eyes. She had a look on her face. The ‘I know what you did last summer’ look, I knew the girl sitting in front of me was not the strict elder sister, the ideal daughter or my idol, that she used to be. Right now, she was just the elder sister everyone needs. The best friend types, who you can share anything and everything with.

I still didn’t know how to react in front of her. Will she judge me for having slept with multiple guys? She most certainly had turned cooler post-marriage but then talking about SEX. Ah, well, awkward.

She asked again, “Tell me naa, how is your sex life?”

I told her about the three boyfriends I thought were my forever and how the first one was too lazy in bed. The second was so proactive. He knew tricks. I should have known he had talent and he would be flaunting it to other girls as well. Third one was just so romantic. There were props, there were candles, there was role play and a lot of other things. Him, I really miss.

She told me about hers as well. As expected the virginity was bidden adieu on her wedding night only. ‘What about you?’ ‘How was your first experience?’ ‘Was Rishabh lazy the first time as well?’

“Don’t be shocked, we never spoke about it because I thought I was the responsible one but now you are the eldest daughter of the house, so it is fine.” She said.

I knew this was the end. End of the crazy conversation I was having with my sister. The question changed the colour of my face. I could hear my heart rate increasing. I could literally hear it. That was one question I had learnt to lie about. I was now a pro at pulling off the lie. Not to her though. I could have lied but I didn’t want to, this was maybe the first time the secret I had locked inside my heart could be shared with someone. I knew where this was going. I knew the guilt would take me down one day. My sister just helped me roll out the guilt in the form of tears.

I told her, “I am telling you something, I had promised never to repeat even to myself. This is my biggest fear, my biggest secret and the dark side of your sister. Just listen, react and forget. Trust me it is one of those things.”

She kept quiet but her silence assured me of everything I ever wanted. I told her —

Rishabh was the first guy in my life I fell in love with. I thought he is the guy I would make our overly dramatic family meet. I shared most of my ‘firsts’ with him. But there were things where he could not make it to the top.

He was not the first guy to see me naked. He was not the first guy to touch me within. He was not the first guy I slept with. He was not the guy I lost my virginity to.

She kept looking at me with a straight face, I tried to look for reactions but she didn’t give it away and so I continued.

I was 21 when I first had sex. This might shock you but then I was the last one to do it amongst my friends. I was laughed upon and was tagged as the ‘forever virgin’. It was funny initially but then slowly and gradually it was taking a toll on me. I felt I am not beautiful to be touched. I had started hating my body. Inferiority complex had literally taken me down. I was dating Rishabh back then but he was either too lazy or scared to get laid.

I waited, I ignored, I resented but then it was something that was discussed every day in front of me. I could see it in movies, I knew it was something that our conservative family had fenced me away from but the idea of eating the forbidden fruit attracted me towards it.

It was after a party, we had crashed into a friends place. I had my share of alcohol but not as much, I could walk straight. There were two couples and everybody was getting a little mushy. My Mr. Romeo was away. We had broken up temporarily. So technically I didn’t cheat on him because I had really thought it was over.  So yes, everybody was drunk but there was this one guy Shravan, he was drunk beyond his wits. I had to literally carry him to a room. All others were busy. By the time we settled, he started coming back to his senses.

Shravan was not really extra ordinarily good looking. He was just fine. Had I not been under the influence of alcohol, Rishabh was way cuter than him. Since the other couples were busy, we had no option but to chill together. After awkward small talk sessions, which lasted 3-4 hours, we realized that both of us clicked pretty well. He was 30, I was 21. He asked me if we could have sex. That was another first, someone asking me to do it in the first few hours of us knowing each other.

I nodded. But it was an unsure nod. I was still thinking but he started acting on it before I could know. Nobody could stop him from there. He undressed me and complemented my body.

He asked, he didn’t force himself on me. He was brutal and really wild but since it was my first, I didn’t know it was not supposed to be like that. There was no romance. He quickly got into me and enjoyed my painful shrieks. He didn’t kiss my forehead as in the movies. I couldn’t gather what was happening to my body. It was being twisted and twirled like a rubber band. I was in pain, I told him but he didn’t care. My lips were bleeding, my shoulder had a mark, I was suffocated by the weight of his body but he just didn’t stop.

Yes, I said yes! But I still believe I was raped. It was not physical but I wish we could go back to law and define ’emotional rape’. I was a victim of that.

Just a nod costed me my happiness. I woke up looking like a mess. He looked at me as if I was a sex worker. I felt the same about myself, the only difference was I wasn’t paid, I was robbed of my dignity, my self-esteem and my virginity.

I told my friends but they seemed to enjoy the very disaster of my life.

“Wow! You had some wild sexual encounter.” They were too happy to notice the marks on my body and the scars in my heart. I was shattered. I came home feeling miserable. Nobody understood and I didn’t want to make a mockery out of myself. I finally told another friend, who blamed it on alcohol and started preaching ideals she had never followed in her own life.

I was not drunk, never was. He was sober the time he asked me to do it. It was not alcohol. It was his sexual cravings and my inferiority complex that triggered the action that night.

Rishabh and I patched up in some time. He came back and I accepted him without a second thought. I needed a shoulder. Yes, I was selfish but what else could I have done?

I was now terrified of him asking me to have sex with him. That would bring back memories and would make me a horrible person. He did ask the dreaded question but I didn’t say No. I wanted to tell him about that night but I couldn’t, I was just really scared. We had it. He was too excited, he loved me, took care of me, I got the kiss on my forehead. All of it was like the movies. It became a regular affair then. The regular was not as regular you see, his laziness often came in the way.

I was happy until the one day I told him, about Shravan. He flipped, he called me names, horrible names, ones I would never like to recall. I was officially a cheater now. He left me. I don’t blame him but what I feel bad about is, even he didn’t understand. I was raped. That was the last time I discussed it with anyone.

My sister was teary eyed. I could tell that finally there was the one person who understood me. She hugged me, didn’t leave me for ten minutes. There was complete silence but it conveyed more than words ever did in 26 years. She broke the silence to say, “Don’t worry this is going to my grave and you are not a horrible person.”

“I am sorry that we live in a country where law has no place for emotions, had it not been the case I would sentence that criminal to death.”

Those were the most beautiful lines my sister had ever said to me. I am glad I had that conversation with her. It gave me strength, it gave me power and hence, I am here sharing it with you guys.

That was the day I could breathe properly. The suffocation of curtailing those emotions, those thoughts and the entire episode that poked me everyday. I can never forget what had happened but speaking about it made it easy. At times, the issue is not as big but keeping it within makes it bad. I had stopped talking to those friends who were with me that night. I came to know that the people who had forced me to walk the forbidden zone were the ones to later mock it. My sister saved me that day and she made it look like the incident was bad but not enough for me to die with guilt.

She narrated her entire story of her first night of her marriage. She wasn’t speaking to highlight her sexual life, she was trying to make me aware of the special moment I had given up on. Why? Just because people around wanted me to. Sex is not an episode, it is an emotion and hence it needs to be treated that way. That was the day I realized it is easy to fall prey to what others have planned for you but sometimes resisting one moment could actually make way for the special one you were waiting for.

I should have put my foot down with Shravan. Who knows, I too would have been proud of losing my virginity, but look at me now terrified with the idea of it. This is something I will always hate myself and my friends for.


Author’s Note:

I had lost my virginity to a stranger who rather ridiculed it. A feeling I will never forget. I’m sharing my story to make people understand that peer pressure and boundaries often make us do things we shouldn’t. Family seems to be hostile but then they are the only ones who don’t judge, don’t discard and don’t discriminate. Trust your family and make the right choices. A random conversation with my sister helped me regain my self-esteem and peace of mind. It set me free from the burden of the guilt that I was living with.

I Was 4 When My Bhai Found “Cancer” In Me And Removed It From Between My Legs Every Night

This story is taken from a website called

I take no credit for this story, but i relate to it, and want more people to read it. The author has remained anonymous.

This is the actual link for the story.

By the way ‘Bhai’ in Hindi language means brother.


Bhai, can we go and get one ice-cream today also? P-L-E-E-E-E-A-S-E!” the four year old, tiny version of me begged as I lingered onto my, then, seventeen-year old cousin.

He was a dark, tall man with a meek body; his long hair curled in a shabby manner across his unkempt face. It was a different kind of bond that we shared. I called it ‘love’. And he called it ‘love’ too. But little did I know that it was a different kind of love altogether.

“Alright, but only if you promise to play with me after dinner.”

I smirked at his easy, usual offer and my little, dwarf body while I clung to his legs with pure affection. He then picked me in his arms and kissed me on my cheek. I could feel him holding my under-developed bosom with one hand while his other hand wandered under my skirt, detaining my little buttocks from the lacy, pink bloomers that my mom had recently purchased for me.

This was pretty usual, wasn’t it? He was the only cousin-brother in my huge family and he held and played with me in this very special way. Especially when we were alone.  I was very happy, obviously. I got my ice cream and chocolates every day plus a little bit of extra love.

After dinner every night, I went to his room, as promised. Things were ordinarily this way. He would make me play with his ‘super power’ that he kept hidden in his trousers. Our game had to be our little secret because if someone found out, then they would take him away from me. And, I didn’t want to lose my brother now, did I?

In fact, he loved me so much that he would be my doctor every night. I was scared of going to the doctor, so he would make it a point to check me every night after we finish playing.

Every day was the same. I rushed to him after school, we had ice-creams and at night, we played. His told me I was special which is why only I was allowed to play with his ‘super power’. It was a thick, skin-like rod; had little pink-red mouth on its tip. He had once asked me to check how it tasted too, because he couldn’t bend to see if it was sweet like ice-cream or sour like lemon. I had done it, and it was tasteless as far as I could taste.

We use to check the taste every day because you never know when it could start tasting like ice cream. When I refused to play with his power or taste it for the day, he would threaten that he won’t check my body that night and that I would have to go to the doctor the next day. So I had to, you see?

After we played, he would make me lie down on my back and lift my frock. He always started by knocking behind my knees and then shift to my back-side. He would press them and rub his mouth between them just to check if I was fine and then turn me around and ask me to open my legs. He did something with his fingers between my thighs and it would hurt at times.

But I didn’t say anything. Why? Because I TRUSTED my brother.

One night, I remember running to my parents room crying and pretending to sleep between them quietly because my brother had diagnosed me with cancer and said that he had to treat me well for the next few nights if I didn’t want to die. He cured me within a week by putting a pencil between my thighs and removing cancer from my body. I couldn’t have thanked him enough.

Till I turned 12. Then, I knew.

I began to understand what was happening to me and eventually everything became clear. I learnt that his ‘super-power’ was nothing but a penis which every man had.

And, in the course of time it bestowed on me that I was molested and almost-raped for around ten years of my life. That those checkups were nothing but a blind game of trust; that those ice-creams were nothing but a bribe which helped me get molested every night.

For TEN whole years!

And this very ‘loving’ brother of mine is now married; and I thank heavens that he’s blessed with a son. What if it was a daughter? She would have also learnt how to play with his ‘super-power’?

Today, I work for over sixty NGOs and I’m associated with an international organization that works against children and women molestation, but not once have I ever gathered the courage to speak about this to anyone; even my very own parents. I am weak because I still feel like a four-year old, over and over again. And thanks to the society we live in, I couldn’t hurt and shame my family by sharing this. But enough is enough.

This needed to come out. Children don’t know what is being done to them so if you know or even have a small doubt that a child somewhere is being molested; raise your voice against it. So, that he/she will not have to look back like I did and feel the pain, trauma, shame and everything else that comes with it.


Quote 03

You dont need them. You are strong. Be proud. Stand straight.

I know its easier said then done, I have been in your shoes. I also know it feels good to not give in.

“Along with the trust issues, one of the hardest parts to deal with is the feeling of not being believed or supported, especially by your own grandparents and extended family. When I have been through so much pain and hurt and have to live with the scars every day, I get angry knowing that others think it is all made up or they brush it off because my cousin was a teenager. I was ten when I was first sexually abused by my cousin, and a majority of my relatives have taken the perpetrator’s side. I have cried many times about everything and how my relatives gave no support or love to me as a kid when this all came out. Not one relative ever came up to that innocent little girl I was and said “I am sorry for what you went through” or “I am here for you.” Instead they said hurtful things: “Oh he was young.” “That is what kids do.” “It is not like he was some older man you didn’t know.” Why does age make a difference? It is a sick way of thinking. Sexual abuse is sexual abuse. What is wrong with this picture? It brings tears to my eyes the way my relatives have reacted to this and cannot accept the truth. Denial is where they would rather stay.”
Erin Merryn, Living for Today: From Incest and Molestation to Fearlessness and Forgiveness

Quote 02

A not-so-gentle reminder that its not your fault, whatever everybody else tells you.

“The reality is, no matter what you
were told, whatever happened to you
as a child was not legally or morally
your fault. Abused children are instilled with guilt regarding their
“participation.” It’s an especially
complex issue if the abuser is a family member. The child is told and believes that by his word his family will disintegrate, or harm may descend upon other loved ones. He fears he will lose more by telling than not.”
Sarah E. Olson, Becoming One: A Story of Triumph Over Dissociative Identity Disorder

Quote 01

As she grows older she gets stronger. She learns to do what she is told with the utmost compliance. She forgets everything she has ever wanted. The pain still lurks, but it’s easier to pretend it’s not there than to acknowledge the horrors she has buried in the deepest parts of her mind. Her relationships are overwhelmed by the power of her emotions. She reaches out for help, but never seems to find what she is looking for The pain gets worse. The loneliness sets in. When the feelings return, she is overcome with panic, pain, and desperation.

She is convinced she is going to die. Yet, when she looks around her she sees nothing that should make her feel so bad. Deep inside she knows something is very, very wrong, but she doesn’t remember anything. She thinks, “Maybe I am crazy.”

― Margaret Smith, Ritual Abuse: What it is, Why it Happens, and How to Help

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