The Silence that Never Was

They say they are glad the silence broke. At least now people will talk about it openly. On a Sunday morning India discovers every second child has experienced child sex abuse. I silently shudder.

For that woman whose mother cleaned her up after her grandpa’s deeds. She ate a lot and never married. She also can get quite angry and is hurt very easily. And yet she quietly trudges her way to healing. Tell her she needs to be brave, she needs to call this person up or that organization, that she does not need to be ashamed. Ha! She knows it. She just wants to be loved.

And I shudder for that woman whose father did not stay a father. She moved from one boyfriend to another, hoping for some salve, like a puppy looking for a master, the only way she knows to relate to a father. Professionally, she is excellent. But, nope, I don’t think she is married. They have nicknamed her last name—Rona Dhona Khona.

And I shudder for that woman, whose body and lungs would freeze up and she would sit or sleep or lie for hours together. No, she could not make it to the appointment yesterday. She cooks well and seizes control over your domesticity in hours till you wish you could shake her off. She is intense, hard, harsh. Yeah, she knows all about being brave and speak and all that. Can she call her mother today and say, your brother was not much your brother? Who will hold her today as she first freezes and then scrapes you?

And I shudder for others, some married and some not, for whom the memories are not so clear. Some vague recollections. Some feverish attempts to connect the dots. The pain seething in the body. A consciousness that slips in and out. Did it happen or not? Only that time or multiple times? Only that much or beyond? Of a discomfort around him. Of a seeking if others too were affected. A search for evidence to nail it down. A confusion—must be an imagination. Some who collapse—Oh Bhavana, I think it must have... or others who smoke and drink—I think I know why. And others in turmoil--of an inability to stay in one place, or relationship...a need to forget, a need to move on from what was never defined or clear and yet froths up pain.

So I say this—shut and listen up: In our hearts the silence never was, just an unending chatter. Now you hold our chatter in sacred silence and just hold!