Unboxed Writers App for Phone and Tablet

Here are more ways to stay at forefront of Unboxed Writers and stay informed and inspired! Download our app for Android Phones and Tablets. Click on the image to Download Now!


Like Us on Facebook

Follow Us on Twitter



Cattitude: Cause We Support


The Cattitude Trust is a Public Charitable Trust started to reach out to cats in distress, particularly in Chennai (India).

To know more about Cattitude, 'Like' them on Facebook.


Creative Commons License
All content displayed here by Unboxed Writers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://unboxedwriters.com.

Excerpt, Don't Copy: You may not publish an entire post. You may republish an excerpt of not increasing 250 words.

Give Credit: You may not use any material from our site without giving due credit to the individual author and Unboxed Writers. You must hyperlink directly to the post.

Author: Author of the post retains all copyright, and reserves all rights not explicitly granted here.

The Secret I Won’t Keep..

images (10)

Many a time, I scroll my Facebook wall, see my posts and tell myself, “Oh! My life is an open-book!” From posting myriad of status messages about trivial things to blogging about some earth-shattering topics, I’ve been constantly striving to record my life. Despite being self-expressive, I realised that I haven’t let a word out about a couple of incidents that have scarred me for life. I wanted to write about it when people came to roads to express their solidarity with the brave heart, who lost her life in the Delhi gang rape incident. I wanted to write about it when I read indefinite number of articles about young girls being molested. I wanted to write about it when girls were raped by their own family members. But there was an unknown force that stopped me from penning down my thoughts. Maybe, it was an apprehension about telling the world that I am a victim too. Perhaps, it took a tad too long for me to realise that the incident should not be kept personal anymore for it teaches a crucial lesson. Today, I understand that there is no shame in telling that ‘IT’ happened and the story has to be recounted.


When this incident occurred, I was about seven or eight and we were living in a place that’s considered the cultural hub of Chennai. It was a sultry evening. As I was used to spending time with my friends every evening, I was too bored that day since I couldn’t find any of them. We lived in a small lane and our house was the first one. To cope with boredom, I sang to myself and kept walking from one end to the other end of the lane. There weren’t many people in the lane on the day that it happened.


My mother was at home and she was chatting with a relative. I used to have long hair then and I vividly remember what I was wearing that day. A white colour hair band decorated my hair and I wore a long blue-colour frock. I was fatter and taller for my age and I was always considered older. I continued to walk in the lane for a while before I chose to ascend the staircase at one of the houses. As I was climbing the stairs, a man, who might have been in his early 40’s emerged from his house in the first floor. I had known the man because he was my neighbour, he was married to our family friend and his daughter was my sister’s friend.


Although I was a kid, I had observed my parents discussing this man’s behaviour. He was aloof and his wife was not happy with him. His daughter spoke with him only when she needed pocket money. That man led a ruined family. Nobody had seen him smile. But much to my surprise, as I was on the stairs, he grinned from ear to ear. I couldn’t see the evil in his smile. He descended a couple of steps to come close to me. Only God knows why I didn’t run away from him. Maybe, it was because I hadn’t seen a demon before. I was stationary there while he slipped his hand into my underclothes to feel one of the most personal belongings of a woman. Although his abuse went on for a few minutes, I didn’t seem to understand his idea.


He stopped suddenly. Perhaps, he heard footsteps or he generally feared being caught red-handed. As I turned to head home again, I realised that he had left a one-rupee coin in my underwear and that revolted me.  I ran back home and narrated the entire story to my mother, who fumed with rage. She employed profanity to the highest degree. She said to me, “You wait here! I will kill that man. How can he do this!” She ran to his house and willfully yelled so that everybody could hear. I wasn’t with my mother to learn what happened then. But she told me that he wouldn’t do that again and she said, “Next time, if somebody does that to you, you should tell me.” I understood what he did was just wrong and I was grateful to my mother for allowing me to bring it up if it happened again. Unlike others, she didn’t conceal it nor did she think it was shameful. However the understanding was not deep enough I suppose for it happened again and someone whom my family knew so well did it.


This relative of mine, who visited us quite often, abused me often in a subtle fashion. He was in college then. I presume he was around 20. He would come home to meet my parents, savour my mom’s food and to lie on my lap. While my parents thought he was just being extra-affectionate to me, little did they know. Despite knowing that he was being a little creepy, I succumbed to his fake affection. The kid didn’t understand her mother’s advice when she was abused the first time and so, she didn’t report it this time. He had to stop visiting us as he was getting busy with life and now I can’t envisage what he would have done to me if he had continued to come home.


Only when I was a teenager, I found out what they did was sexual abuse only after I attended an awareness program in school. I gained more insight only after I discussed it with my school-friends. Thankfully, after my relative, I didn’t fall in anyone’s trap. However, when discussions on ‘abuse’ happen, I tie my tongue to refrain from sharing my experiences for no valid reason. But today I asked a couple of questions to myself? By blogging about my nighmare, am I going to be judged? Am I going to lose anything? The answer is negative as I honestly don’t care anymore. And will this be of any help to people? Yes! I plead with all parents to be extra-cautious to save children from those, who succumb to carnal pleasures, to save children from being victimised and to save children from what might scar them for lives. We are certainly at a juncture where children have to learn about ‘touches’, gain knowledge about that we shyly utter ‘sex education’ and understand whom to trust. As it happened in my life, the perpetrator might come in the form of your neighbour, relative or best friend. But I certainly don’t suggest that no one should be trusted. Trust, as they say, should get better with time.
From boarding a bus to taking an elevator, women and children have been asked to be vigilant to ‘save’ themselves from the abusers. While I wholeheartedly loathe that concept of ‘being alert and learning to defend oneself’ (as I expect the scumbags to be put in their places), I also reckon that these kind of stories should come out more to show that it can happen to anybody and it can happen anywhere. I often tell myself ‘It happened to me and the perpetrator would suffer at the hands of Karma. However that gruesome act will never cow me down for I am bigger than all that. And if it happens again, I will be my own voice. It will not be part of my secret diary neither will I shed tears. But I will bring it to light.’ And that’s what I would love my female friends to do too. Although I’m trying not to be preachy here, I would still like to underscore the importance of bringing the wrongdoers to book and tearing their masks off.


What happened to me when I was a child might have scarred me, but it can never sabotage my trust in men for there are many gems, whom I have found a reason to respect.


Deepika Ramesh-Thirugnanasambandam lives in Chennai with her husband, parents, a canine brother and a canine daughter. She works as a journalist during the day to pay bills, buy treats for her fur babies and dreams full time to nourish her soul. She reads because it is the easiest route to escape from reality and she writes because she likes helping others escape too. As she firmly believes that ‘Man is just a collection of chemicals with delusions of grandeur’ (Thanks Ayn Rand), she chooses to love, smile, hate, read, write, help and see life pass by. She blogs at http://doubtfulwriter.blogspot.in/

Similar posts
  • Are We A Democratic Republic Still? August 1947 was a watershed moment in the history of the Indian sub-continent. India – the jewel in the British crown – became an independent nation as it broke away from its imperial past of over 200 years. The joyful moment however was short-lived as independence unfortunately came at a heavy price in the form [...]
  • No, we don’t get to tell any woman what feminism should mean to her The generation of women that came before mine had a different view by and large of what abuse and violation represented. I remember being told many versions of “apni izzat apne haath mein hoti hai” (your honour is in your hands) while growing up and in my twenties by women who could not understand why I [...]
  • Everywoman… The pain of men Is the crux of noir It’s why girlfriends Are found in fridges The pain of men Is stoic Quietly eats away at the men The pain of men Drives revenge epics Fuels classical tragedies The pain of men Ennobles, somehow The pain of women Is everyday Everywoman And when it is [...]
  • Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. No matter how many times I say it, it won’t be anywhere near enough. Strangers on the street, boyfriends, acquaintances at parties, “friendly” uncles, neighbours- the reality that our bodies belong to everyone but ourselves is one that women realize rather early into their lives. The first time I [...]
  • Why We Don’t Need A Goddess Queen Today “Everything is fair in love and war,” says Rajkumar Rao’s vindictive hero in the viral trailer for Shaadi Mein Zaroor Aaana. This could have been the tagline of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmavati. The difference is that in the first film, the hero is avenging himself by punishing the woman who broke his heart. He wants [...]

No Comments Yet

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Our Authors

Be the first to read the latest on Unboxed Writers!

Subscribe for FREE and get the latest in your Inbox! You can unsubscribe at any time.
Email *


Editor & Founder:
Reema Moudgil
Design Director & Founder:
Vani Bahl
Media Consultant:
Poonam Goel

Mission Statement

Who are we? We are writers. And here, in this space, we put pride and passion back into writing. We give ourselves and each other creative freedom and respect.

* We create an environment where content generation does not entail degeneration of inspiration and spirit.
* We create content that we believe in and identify with.
* We recognise that to create is always of more value than to berate.
*We critique without malice and arrogance.

This site is about us writers, what we stand for but more importantly, about creating something valuable, inclusive, thought-provoking. In this space, we do not just stand for ourselves but for all those who listen to a compelling inner voice that tells them, "Create!"

Unboxed Writers Share

Join the other awesome people who get the new posts right away by email!
Be the first to read the latest on Unboxed Writers.
Enter your email and stay on top of things!