Truth behind the closed doors

(This is a story of many women in our society. I tried my best to narrate their feelings here.) 

         For me, marriage was not a ring worn or a paper signed. It was the union of two hearts beating as one, each that would sacrifice for the other’s happiness and wellbeing. 

But mine case was different, I was getting married to a guy who was 10-12 years older than me. He was a stranger, rich, old guy whom I had never met before and I didn’t know anything about. 

I always prioritized my family’s choices before anything else. When I thought about my happiest moments in life, they all involved my family. My family has made me who I am today. They have challenged me, loved me and made me a better person. I had so many dreams stacked on, but my family asked me to get married with that guy. At first I refused with covetous heart and said “I want to study, dad”. But wedding date was already fixed and I said “yes” for their happiness. 

I thought, he might be a good and honorable person as my family selected him for me. I had this tiny hope and belief of good chapter on my life. I had this whirlwind fantasy of marriage with buoyancy. 

I was agitated with every passing moment on my wedding day.  At the end of the wedding when I was crying over my mothers’ arms, she hugged me and said, “Always make your husband happy.” I was expecting some farewell love from her, but she loaded my arms with some more responsibilities that smashed my happiness a little bit more. 

I couldn’t stop crying as I was scared, scared of everything. I was anxious and terrified. I bid a goodbye and sat on the car that he was already in. He was sitting beside me. His appearance was not appealing either. His lobster skin was dashed in dirty grey hairs that were not long enough or shaped enough to be an intentional beard. His right leg had the fluidity of youth but the other was jagged like he couldn’t control it. 

All new faces welcomed me on my new house and again after some small rituals, the long tiring day finally ended. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet black that engulfed the town. The sun went to rest and the moon took his place as the darkness begun to surround me. The warm bronze sunlight was swallowed by the horizon. 

I was tired and went straight to bed. I could see the warming, orange glow of street-lamps outside my window, their light filtering in through the gaps in the curtains. The cold night tired me and I closed my eyes as I missed home. I missed all little fights with my sister, helping my mom in kitchen and listening to dad’s lecture on life. I had this teary eyes at that moment thinking of all that I left behind. 

Suddenly, I felt something. Something unusual. 

A hand appeared from nowhere and tightened my waist. The heat of his fingers creeped into my consciousness. I opened my eyes and pushed that person away. But, he was nobody else but my husband.

He outraged in anger, “Come here!”. The man who didn’t utter a word throughout the day suddenly wanted me by his side. I took umbrage at his words. I clearly wanted to slap him and ran away but where would I go? To the family who surrendered me to that monster? or to the strangers that I was supposed to live with? 

I remembered that I was taught to make my husband happy and never say “No”. I felt helpless and abandoned. I tried to scream; a cry for help but that was of no use. No one could hear it. The brightness inside me was gulped by something dark. I struggled hard but then I finally gave up and let him do whatever he felt like. It was an unwanted intimacy. His every touch on my body felt like a throne pricking my soul. 

I was in pain but he treated me like an object. I could feel every spot of sweat drenched on my skin, the throbbing of my own eyes, the ringing screams that vibrated in my ears and the thumping of my heart against my chest. My fingers were curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I couldn’t hear my rapid breathing but I could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs. Fear overwhelmed my body, making it drastically exhausted. 

He could not hear my terror that night. He could not see that shivering bride that night. He could not feel that cold feet I had that night. He reached my body but couldn’t reach my heart that night. He turned out to be a monster who murdered my soul that night. 

He slept after he brutally smashed all those tiny hopes that were left on me. 

But I couldn’t sleep. I was awake. I harshly rubbed all over my body that was contaminated with his polluted skin. 

The scary darkness of that night could never escape my memory. I walked out of the bed and fell forward. I tried to catch myself and slowly stood up with my body shaking. My entire body seemed to sag with exhaustion and numbed agony. 

I went to the balcony and stared up at the sky and continued to let my pain run away for that moment. I saw millions of bright stars dotted on the black canvas of night, yet none of that light seemed to filter far enough down to make any difference on my life. The night rolled over and brought a threat on my heart. Light was covered by the rapidly falling night. 

My mind hovered with many questions. Why my “No” had no value? Why was he officially licensed to harass me sexually? why I didn’t have authority over my own body? Why was I not safe on my own house? 

At that time I didnt think it was rape. I thought, it couldn’t be rape as we were married. But that didn’t feel right. It made me feel hurt, angry, disrespected and sad. 

It repeated following days, weeks, months! The sorrow grew more profound each day I spend there. 

The bruises shaped into a purple stain all over my body. My eyes were swollen and turned black due to sleepless night. My reflection stared unhelpfully back at me from the mirror as I attempted to hide the mark with thick make up. I pulled my saari hiding purple bruise lining on my waist. I pretended to have a happy married life, but only I knew what I had to face behind those closed doors. 

One day I thought, Its enough! I thought I should speak up. So, I tried to talk to people around me but everyone said, its normal. They told me to “put up with it”. He earned for the family so it was my duty to make him happy on bed. They added that I should satisfy his sexual needs or else he might leave me. 

He raped me every night on his own house behind that closed doors but why it was still not called rape but husband’s love? How can it be love When I didnt give him consent to do that? 

It never mattered to him if I had a tiring day or on my periods, all that mattered was his hunger over my body. I was helped by none. And slowly, I accepted that this was how my life was going to be. That home was a cage for my body and my body felt like a cage for my soul. I wanted to heal, to bring light where there was only darkness left. 

I was abused sexually every night and I am still suffering from it. I want to be free, free from this monster, his manipulation and his dark clouds. I am waiting for the day when I could finally move on. When I would be safe. I am waiting for the day when that man could no longer hurt me. But now I am trapped here with no escape. I can feel my cheek getting wet with tears but I don’t remember crying for pain for the last few years of my life. I just feel numb. I emptied myself and served with all I had to that legal rapist who raped me every night behind those closed doors.  

“We can count many cases of marital rape in our society. In most of the cases, men think that any sort of sex he indulges in with the wife is normal. He believes that even if he forces his wife to have sex, it cannot be called rape. Many women are unaware of the concept of marital rape. Having sexual intercourse with any women without her consent shall be considered rape. And they shall be sentenced to jail depending on the age of the victim and circumstances of rape. I wrote this story to create awareness. If you know any woman who is going through this, then its time to speak up. Not only marital rape but all other rape victims should be given justice and all rapist should be punished. Most of the women do not report to the police department for fear that it will bring dishonor to the family’s name. Our government must move forward to treat violence against women as a serious problem"                -Aashima ✍️