I want to confess my sins; I have lost count of how many innocent girls I have taken sexual advantage of. At all times, I thought it was consensual and mutual. I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

You may think why suddenly I’ve realized my offense. The history of my misdeeds goes way back in time. Here’s my story that made me a ‘rapist’ at the age of 23, and why I have decided to fight the demons that have gripped me for long.

 I remember I was four years old when my father took my sister and me to the toy shop. He bought me a remote controlled car. My sister wanted a doll’s dressing-room set. But I demanded those hot wheels car set too. We both started fighting. My father shouted and silenced us at once. My dad then told my sister, that she is a big girl now, and shouldn’t play with Barbie dolls anymore. He got me those hot wheels cars too. But, he also got her a (cheap) kitchen set. She seemed happy. I teased her all the way back home. But she didn’t pay any heed.

Such incidents took place multiple times, and I knew then my wishes would always be the priority because I was younger to her. (Now, I realize it was not about the age, but about the gender, me being a boy). As we grew older, I began to realize that I was the pampered child between us two. And, trust me I made full use of it. I would order her around when my friends came. While watching TV, I asked her to get water or chips, etc., and if she refused, I would threaten her that I would complain about it to mom and then she would have to bear a long lecture. Sometimes, when irritated and frustrated, she would refuse, and I did complain. And, most times, she would be scolded, “Please grow up… you are a girl and so behave like one… what is the issue in giving your brother a glass of water…? If you act like this in your husband’s house, they’ll blame us for your upbringing….. So on and so on.” I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

Till then, I have become a boy with the same mindset, that there are different rules for the girls of the family, as they are ‘Girls’. A girl should not be allowed for late nights, or should not do jobs, or dress ‘vulgarly’, or talk to boys. I was of the same opinion that the upbringing of my sister was favorable and in the right direction, as it would assure her safety and ‘good’ character.

As it is prevalent much, any girl who would wear short clothes or were ‘provocatively’ dressed, went to parties, had boyfriends, or were even friendly with boys; I thought, were open to sex, or in other words, ‘Asking for it’, and were of the ‘low’ character.

I being a spoilt brat, Rahees Baap ka Ek Lauta Beta, in the college days, used to consider girls as needy and desperate for me. I lured them with my charms, flirted with them, promised them all those fascinating things, took them to parties, got them drunk, and had sex with them (thinking that they wanted it too). But from next day started sidelining them and hawked on the next ‘prey’, and repeated the same sequence over and over again with innumerable girls.

I thought they wanted it too. They must’ve had. The girls never told me directly that they wanted it. But, their ‘revealing’ dresses gave me the consent, their sitting in my car was the signal, those sexy conversations confirmed, dancing with me at the late night parties was a sign that they agreed to the sex part. And, every time, I was infuriated with their next day drama. They would cry endlessly and would blame the alcohol and me for the sex. I would shout at them that they knew that this would happen, that it was evident. They would curse me, felt guilty, or sometimes, just kept mum, and requested me not to speak about it to anyone. But, for me, it was another score in my name. I would go boasting about it to my friends in the most degrading choice of words like, “Yo Guys! Flagged that hole”/ “F&*ked that bitch too.”/ “Bring me another one, she’s done.”

But, two days before, my life went upside-down, and it felt Karma hit me.. No, punched me… No knocked me… No, almost choked me to death. I had been staying at home for past few days as I was down with the fever. I noticed that my sister wasn’t her usual self. We didn’t talk much, but I could tell that something was wrong. When she brought me lunch two days back, I insisted her to sit and accompany me. She reluctantly agreed. We chatted about regular stuff initially; she asked about my college life, and I about hers. She was pursuing masters in visual arts in a girl’s college. I was asking about her friends and everything. Suddenly, she started crying. I didn’t understand what happened. I went close to her and worriedly asked what was wrong. She began crying profusely. After I don’t know how much time, hesitatingly, stammering she said.

“Promise me, you won’t say a word to mummy-papa.”

I took her hand and assured her.

With lowered eyes, she continued,

“I had a boyfriend. We were together for seven months. Remember, the day when I convinced Papa to let me stay at my friend’s place. I lied to dad. I told him we had a crucial submission the next day. My bf had planned some surprise for me, for which he insisted I do a night-stay. He took me to a cozy restaurant. After, candle-light dinner  we went to a discotheque. And, I was so overjoyed and hyper, for it was my first time. I drank and danced. And, the next day I woke up in some hotel room with him. Now, he is not taking my calls. He cleared, he wanted to break up with me as he thinks I am too possessive. ”

She couldn’t continue. She didn’t have to.

I consoled her. I told her everything would be okay. She thanked me for my support, for understanding her. She said I was a good brother and a good human being.

Aahhh! That stung me. I suddenly realized that those sexual encounters were no less than rape as those girls never consented.

Good human being! Only if she knew about my evils. 

My whole life came crumbling down. All my ideologies, my deeds, my so called ‘values’ & my mindset were mocking at me. I knew then the heinousness of the stuff I had done. I had fed not only the monsters in me, but those in my parents, and the society too.

It’s not the girl who is at fault; I realize this now. No matter the girl stays at home or roams on the roads. No matter she wears a short skirt or a Burqa. No matter she avoids or talks to the boys. No matter if she is illiterate or highly-educated. If a man has decided to fulfill his lust for her and her body, nothing will matter.

Sadly, such offensive power with men has been vested in him by her parents and society. No man is born a rapist. The liberty that the society and parents have conferred upon their men and their sons to do anything and get away with it because they are the ‘superior’ gender has made us the gross animalistic creatures that we men are.

This confession is not to seek forgiveness for my wrongdoings. I will forever be remorseful for the awful acts I have committed. This narration is to plead the parents of the world,

Stop suppressing your daughters’ dreams. Start teaching your sons the importance of a woman and her dreams. Teach your son to respect not only his mother or sister but every girl in the world.

This revelation of my life is also to appeal the society,

Don’t give that hateful stare to the girls, don’t blame the girls, and don’t accuse the girls of the dirt that men litter.

And, I would beg the men,

Picture yourself as a toy in someone’s hand. And imagine being mishandled, used, broken, and thrown for another toy. No one would like that. So stop doing it!

Respect women. They are not your slaves. You are because of them. Respect the source you come from.