I was 11 years old when this happened with me. It is not easy for a girl to tell the world about the pain she once felt in the dark. Every time I even think of it, my lips tremble and my knees go weak.

I was just 11, then. I had just started getting my period. They were irregular and my parents were thinking about taking me to a doctor.

It was a Saturday evening and I had gone out with the maid to buy some notebooks. When we came out of the shop, a middle aged man called me and told the maid to stand a bit away. He took a hanky in his hand, opened it and whispered into my ears "Your father just called me and said you were not having your period. I am a doctor and will take you to my clinic".

I don't know whether I was hypnotised or not, but I suddenly started following him. I wasn’t able to protest or say a single word to him and just kept going with him. I did not hear my maid crying behind me, did not even hear the noise of the cars passing by the street. He took me to a narrow lane and suddenly held me tight.

He told me to undress my top. I felt like I was coming into my senses and gaining my strength slowly, but was still too weak to protest. I pushed him away but he held me even more tightly and pulled up my shirt. He pressed me against the wall bitterly and touched my private parts. It hurt. Then he asked me to remove my skirt. I protested and asked him to leave me.

I begged him, but he didn't listen to me. He snatched open my skirt and grabbed me. He entered inside my body and kept pushing hard till I started bleeding. I begged him to leave me but he went on. 

And then, just as suddenly he left me and said, "Go back and don't tell this to anyone." I started running as fast I could. I didn't look back at the man again. I kept running till I found the main road and saw my maid still standing there. I smiled and told her that nothing had happened.

I was too young then to understand what a "sexual crime" is. Too young to realize that shouting may have helped and that I could have reported an FIR. All I knew was that whatever had happened was absolutely wrong and my parents would get hurt if they came to know about it. So, I kept quiet for years and finally when I couldn’t bear it any longer, I told my parents about it, six years later.

I am not telling this story to gain anyone’s sympathy. I am telling this story because today I am not afraid to admit that I was raped and opening up about it seems absolutely correct. This incident DOES NOT HAUNT ME and I DON’T FEEL LIKE HIDING MY IDENTITY, anymore. 

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