To my Dearest Color Purple...

I want to be painted all over and that to, in color purple... Not because I was very lonely today, not because I was wearing ‘indecent’ clothes, not because I decided not to scream, not because I felt I was being tortured yet so easily molested and raped but because - I was ashamed. And to be even more blatant-I still am ashamed.

I feel, my entire 24 Year old life till now has been this big, huge and long roller-coaster ride where there has actually been just a little bit of fun but more an anxious, scared and a nervous side that has been making me -a "safe" rider. So, in order to be safe I have not really enjoyed the journey so far- I have just been highly cautious. But today, I wanted to have something I never had been able to enjoy before...I wanted all of it just in one go. Not knowing, I’m going to be left alone and even more morose & most of all -'ashamed'...

My name is…Well, after such an incident I don’t want to disclose my identity. No, I’m ashamed…I can’t…I just can’t. I’ll probably tell you my sex- but…but…wait a minute this Indian society… it’ll rate me as -the even more shameful. I’ll just probably call myself a creature slowly and quietly eaten by a beast.

How it started? Well, I can call it my mistake- surely I can. It was me who was in search of love. I was tattered between the sheets of family and work and so I craved for someone - living. A living being that could hear me, who could speak to me, who could understand me, who could hold me, who could caress me, who could…How does it matter now? I’m done and over with. And anyway, it’s only men who can demand love not women-then why did I go against the norm? It was my greed for love that has landed me here- in the land of shame, with my dearest color purple.

For me a thing such as ‘love’ never existed. It was the most impractical and most time, money and energy consuming type of a thing. But, all of a sudden I burnt from the inside & I just wanted to have it- I just wanted to do it. I too wanted a caring and handsome ‘boyfriend’. So I went ahead with it. And, why would anybody be my boyfriend if I don’t flow with the trend? “I have to”, is what I remember telling myself and moved on… So, I nervously pursued the matter first, then I went ahead to create self-interest in it and then finally I showed off my love and made it ‘look’ intense creating ‘realistic’ intensity.

The people around me were obviously quite pleased. It was 'another entertainment' for them you see. But what was most unconvincing about the matter was that I-myself was highly afraid and unconfident. I knew that I would not enjoy it yet I was forcing myself (just like my friends had). And by the time I could realize about how 'stupid' and 'silly' I looked when standing in front of my reflection-did I realize- I was ashamed of who I had become and who I had denied to become for a few hours. In those ‘few hours’ was he completely convinced about our “relationship” and in those few hours each of my “No…No…” became the reason why I cannot forgive myself ever… It’s depressing to feel humiliated but it’s worse to feel ashamed… because in ‘Those few hours’ I know he raped my soul and I did nothing about it…because… ‘Those few hours’ were the hours where I ALLOWED him to rape me…

I am ashamed of having fallen into this pit of what they call ‘trend’, I am ashamed of being a woman who stands away from the morals and principles of her gender, I am ashamed of being a ‘creature’ who has the greed to want love, I am ashamed of being slut (as they call me) who entice and distract men to satisfy my selfish needs, I am ashamed of trying to retaliate as the fundamental rights do list out ‘freedom of expression’ to me but it’s the society whose wishes I’ve to fulfill…& finally, I am ashamed of this body that was used (in the form of love) while these helpless tears just keep rolling down from these shameful eyes…

That's when at a nearby shop I saw this beautiful purple color that seem to merge into my existence...I felt the color of shame...I could sense it, I could hear it, I could relate to it, I could believe in it, I could withhold it...I felt...I felt...I had become the color purple- so deeply yet so blindly...

I vividly remember what happened next…I think I acted actually-reacted quite fiercely and with a lot of hate. “Meanness” seemed to ooze out of me. I think I became violent and ferocious, agitated and incoherent, disjoint and…empathetic towards myself for such extremes of a woman of fame. Next thing I Remember is that…is that…actually I don’t…no flash backs…no more realities- all I remember is that color of shame blending into me…Making me entangle the joys of escapism and self-sacrifice...But, even after alot many deaths- I do still believe in you… dear, color purple…

dIKSHA gROVER