Disclaimer: Adult and depressing content ahead.

You know the feeling you get when you do something terribly bad and when you're disappointed by your own self? Yes, that disgusted feeling? The feeling in which you end up spending hours under the shower to wash that feeling off. That's what a victim of molestation feels. They blame themselves first.

I was born in a lower-middle-class joint family in Delhi. It was the time of Durga puja when I was first molested. I was molested several more times after that.

I loved going out even when I was a kid. I was 7 years old. We took a bus to Kalkaji. There were only 2 empty seats- one in the front next to where the conductor sat, and one in the end. My daadi sat next to the bus conductor and I sat on her lap. I was wearing my favourite frock- the pink one!

And I was going out! What more could God have given me to make my day!

After some time, I was shifted to the bus conductor's lap. He was very sweet and friendly with me at first, but the next thing I knew, he slid his hands in my undergarments and started rubbing my genitals roughly.

I couldn't figure out what was happening and what I should do. I first tried to stop him but rather than stopping, he increased his pace, and then I tried to go back to my daadi's lap but she didn't even realise what was happening and told me to sit quietly.

By that time, it was burning down there and he dared to open his filthy mouth and ask me "Maza aa raha hai?"

I was so afraid that he would slide his fingers deeper that I just shook my head yes.

I know you must think that I should have shouted or done something to protect myself but I was too afraid, confused, and ashamed. And he molested me in a bus filled with so many people and no one realised what was happening, not even my daadi! Not possible right? That's what I think now.

The horrible journey ended and we got down. The happiest day turned out to be the worst nightmare. I couldn't pee and walk properly for 3-4 days. I had a burning sensation whenever I peed. My legs used to tremble.

I couldn't tell my mom. I'm 21 now she still doesn't know.

The second time, it was my maama, a distant relative. He was my favourite but he turned out to be a devil. Now I try to talk least with all my uncles and male family members.

Needless to say, I've been scarred forever.

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