your life is all about what you make of it; not what others think of it
The warm beach sand feel like burning charcoal charring the soles of my feet.
The deep blue waters, stained green with moss and the morning sun painting the sky in beautiful shades of blue, white, golden-yellow, fiery red and orange are a perfect imagery of what one would call a breath-taking view. And it did make me feel breathless. Breathless not from the view, but from the happenings of the previous night. It makes me feel disgusted and dirty. My body still feels the clawing nails, the greedy gaze, and the hungry body of him. He of whom I know nothing, except his name, James, which also would have been a lie.
Each wave washing my feet was trying to assure me that it was all over; over with the night, gone with the wind. But my mind wouldn’t let me forget it. The harsh memory kept on replaying itself in my mind time and again. And now it felt like the hundredth time…
I was at this same spot, wearing the same clothes, feeling protected and modest, when I turned around in response to a distant, hoarse voice calling out, “Hey there!” It was a man. Probably in his thirties. He came closer to me and inquired, “I am James. I am a local. Are you here alone?” He had a heavy Goan accent.
“Hey! No. Not exactly. My friends have taken off to the market.”
“Mind grabbing a drink? I’m alone. Wouldn’t hurt to have company.”
“Umm… Sure! The bar is around the corner.”
“Oh no no. I don’t drink that stuff. I have something local over at my room. I stay over there,” he said pointing towards a beach house, a few metres away from where we stood.
“Alright. Anything’s good for me.”
I did. I followed close behind him. He was a tall, broad man. About 6’2”. His strides were long, yet steady. His hands were tucked into the pocket of his floral printed shorts. There was something very captivating about him. His cool and casual demeanour were something that one would never miss.
We finally reached his home. It was a warm place. Nothing very fancy. It was simply what I would call a home. It was cosy with beige walls and red curtain drapes that touched the floor.
He offered me some local Feni. It did taste a lot better than the fancy ones I purchased from Duty Free. There was something very pleasantly distinguishing about it. I liked it. I threw back a few more glasses until I knew I could handle no more. I felt a little tipsy and watching me, he offered me to stay over until I was fine. I agreed, for I thought it to be the wiser thing to do.
I was shown the guest room and I crashed.
I was woken up by a sudden movement next to me. I opened my eyes and saw a stranger next to me on the bed. I jumped and sat upright on the bed. No. It wasn’t a stranger. It was James. He just lay next to me with a smile. I wasn’t liking it. A strange man in my bed was not my idea of a date.
I was starting to speak when he placed his finger on my lips. I wasn’t used to being treated that way. I found it disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. I pulled my face away. As I began taking the quilt off my body, I was shocked to see myself half naked. I was wearing nothing excepting my underwear.
I felt the blood drain out of my face. I pulled the quilt over myself once again and glanced over at James, who lay there, smiling, and signalled me to lie down. I wouldn’t dare oblige.
“What the hell is going on? Where are my clothes?”
“You didn’t think that I only had plans for drinks, did you?”
“Hand me my clothes back,” I demanded, to an unperturbed James.
He came closer to me. Really close. I could feel his breath on my neck. And then, grabbing me by my arm, pulling me close, he pressed his lips on mine. It was awful. I tweaked myself out of his strong grip and ran for the door. I reached the latch and jerked it open, but the door wouldn’t open. I pulled at it as hard as I could. I used all my strength. That’s when I felt his body against mine, he shoved me and pressed me against the wall, sandwiching me between himself and the wall. I could feel his manhood on me. I didn’t want any of this. I should have gone out with my friends for shopping. This was all a mistake.
He pulled me and threw me on the bed like a lifeless puppet. I felt too weak to protest. The alcohol and the pressure of being in this vulnerable position had weakened me, it drained out all my strength.
He climbed on the bed and lay on me. His body heavy on mine, disempowering me completely. I closed my eyes shut, as tight as I could, hoping to open them only to find out that all this was nothing but just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. It was the bitter-cold reality that I was living.
He kissed me all over my face and body, leaving no point unattended. An attention that I cursed every bit of. I could feel his member travel all over my body, while he explored me through and through.
He exploited me in every way I could be exploited. Those were the worst forty five minutes of my life. Forty five minutes that seemed to last for forty five years.
He did his business. And after he was done with me, he handed me my clothes and signalled me to take leave.
While I was walking out his house, my phone rang. It was my mother.
“Hi Rahul. How are you beta?”
Unable to harbour my grief, weeping like a child I said, “You were right maa. This place is not as nice as it sounds. I will be returning on the first train back home. I really miss you.”