Today being the 21st century I still preach the orthodox phenomenon “ Pati Parmeshwar hai” (Husband is almightily), yes most of you will laugh at me but this is how it is, I being a so called modern educated girl still live in the golden era of yester years and wait eagerly for “The Day” to come when my prince charming comes riding his horse to take me away in the land of dreams, where in his protection no pain will ever touch me again, to give a perfect fairy tale ending to my life the dialogue …. “ so they lived happily ever after”

Having the feelings of the past decades I have to live here, in today, where suffering is slowly killing all these beautiful feelings in me, fading away the charm of my dream city, my wonderland.

I was 15 when I first realized that it was not easy to be a girl. Coming back from school that day, when from out of no where these three boys appeared on a two wheeler, patted me on my back side and rushed out, leaving me standing all humiliated.

My parents had no answer to the question my tears were asking “what was my fault?” at that time I was too young to know, that my fault lied in my being – “ being a girl” . I also could not understand the worry on their faces, for then I did not realize what they did – it was just the beginning.

Being so young, I forgot that quickly, but as I said, that was the beginning, something of the same kind happened again, before I could react or realize what had happened, the man was gone, leaving me all shaken. I felt like waste on the road, some public property that people passing by could handle (or mishandle) me as they wished. I felt nothing in me belonged to me but to the world, all of me at their disposal, – believe me when I say, I did not sleep for nights, I use to wake up with shivers and kept staring into the darkness of the room, trying to figure out what had actually happened, my mind playing back the scene agian like a flashback in a movie. The fear left a deep affect on me, for days I cried feeling sorry for the girls who get raped, I was disturbed thinking, if I felt this way, can anyone understand the plight of those helpless girls? I tortured myself worrying about them and their miseries, at that time I thought that nothing could then save me from going to the gates of mental asylum.

Well, now when I am in college, I’ve learnt to take it as a part of daily routine, ask any girl coming down of the bus, she can tell you what she suffered, just 5 minutes back, in the bus, the gestures and moves of those frustrated men, they pushing and rubbing their body on us, trying to push their hardness into the back, shoulder, hand …… anywhere, trying to cleverly touch the girl at all the places they lust………no one retaliates, as then she will have to answer many around as to what happened, and what actually happens no girl can speak in public.

Every day I come back home, adding little more to the stock of my hatred towards men, I only hope that I do not start hating them completely , as you know , my God, “ my Parmeshwar” too belongs somewhere in that community.


2 thoughts on “My husband – My Parmeshwar – does he really exist????

  1. Hi prerna,U would have never expected a comment from me, i think u r a great writer and should continue writing more, i feel your plight and though being a man myself i feel sorry for all the males who do all this shit as they will never realise someone could be doing the same with their sisters and mom.Continue writing goodYour brotherRobin

  2. mannnnnnnnn I love being in Bbay – not that the men here aren’t just as bad but you make a noise here and most people will come to your rescue. But I know EXACTLY what you mean – sometimes it’s just so shocking you can’t react. And I know a lot of women actually accept all this bs so that they can get through a day but honestly I think thats what just increases all this rubbish. If more men got bashed up in public or got caught and then were humiliated, I am sure many would think twice.So you still believe in ‘pati parmeshwar’ lol never figured you to be someone who said things like that.

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