In Frame: Esha Basak
Is desire wrong, is it something you judge?
Not really, in most cases - desire is good, it fuels us
It helps us run, dream & chase those dreams,
I had a similar dream, one where I wanted to win,
Be the best in my class, be the topper in everything I do,
Keeping the same in mind, I asked the most questions, I was curious,
I began staying back after class to learn more from Ma’am,
“Simona Ma’am” helped us all a lot,
she used to stay back after class with us, a month into such classes,
She invited me to her home for a sort of tuition, I began going there daily,
It was a sweet family, her husband was nice to me, they had no kids -
While Ma’am taught me her husband used to sit near by - doing his thing.
One such day, I ran in screaming & drenched, as it was raining outside -
It was thundering, & it felt like the clouds would crash into the ground - it was loud.
Mid way through the class, her husband handed me a cup of tea, it tasted different -
But I was too deep into asking questions to care about the taste,
I felt a little dizzy, I told them the same, they walked up to me,
Carried me to the bed, lay me down & stared at me, they were saying something -
I couldn’t hear them, I could just hear the rain - for a moment, the world stood still -
Then she hurriedly began taking off my clothes, & he went into the other room -
I thought they were trying to help, but then he came back naked, holding a white packet,
She took off her clothes too, I tried to get back but couldn’t, I tried to scream but couldn’t.
The rain buried my eager & pain-filled screams,
I kept trying to get away, all through the hour,
I passed out soon after.
i dragged myself home,
pain vibrating all across me -
it may have existed in just one area,
but I felt it in every single bone, every nerve
a headache i couldn’t shake, a heartache,
i didn’t want to sit, didn’t want to cry,
the pain was one thing, the shame was worse
did i do anything wrong? i just wanted to learn
but every inch of me felt guilty,
shame like it was all my fault, like i did it-
for months i barely spoke,
because i felt no one would listen,
even after the physical pain had left,
i still felt it, every time i saw Ma’am -
it came all gushing back,
every time i read something in the news,
it all came back like a damn breaking loose,
should I tell my parents? would they believe me?
should i tell anyone at all? no, no one can help,
no would listen, they are respected & i am no one,
thoughts like this pushed me to stay confined,
to cage up my rage, & live in guilt -
but then one day it all changed.
I met this person, who’s identity needs to be a secret -
We walked across the bridge, talking of all the things that happened -
The sound of the rain felt like deja vu of the rain that night,
I broke down telling this person the story, & buried my face in their chest,
They dropped me home, & I went straight to bed,
Next morning, I woke up to a million messages,
I washed off my tear stained eyes, & walked to our dining table
Opened my phone to see horrifying messages of how -
“Simona Ma’am & her husband” had been brutally murdered,
They had been drugged & shot in the genitals,
A letter was nailed to their heads - one addressed to “E,B,S & K”,
The letter , in detail, highlighted the crimes they had committed,
how sorry they were for doing so, & that’s the reason behind the ‘suicide’.
The papers published the letters, headlined “Clearly, not a suicide’.
Esha slept calmly that night, knowing that “E” from “E,B,S & K” -
was feeling a little lighter.