Chapter 2

2009-2016

The boy's life took an unexpected turn when his father announced the move. An offer had come from his uncle in Mumbai, an opportunity too good to pass up. The boy's world, once familiar and routine, was suddenly thrown into chaos. He listened in silence as his father explained the benefits of the move, painting a picture of a brighter future. 

"Our lives will be better in Mumbai," his father said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic hint of excitement. "Your uncle has offered me a partnership. This is a big opportunity for expansion."

The boy's mother nodded in agreement, her face a mixture of hope and apprehension. The boy, however, felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He looked around his room, at the familiar walls and the comforting clutter of his belongings. Leaving meant abandoning the world he knew, the friends he had made, and the routines that had become his refuge. The day they arrived in Mumbai, the boy was overwhelmed by the city's sheer scale and energy. The noise, the crowds, the relentless pace—it was a far cry from the quieter, more predictable life they had left behind. But amid the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope. His uncle, with his warm smile and reassuring words, seemed like a beacon of stability.

"Welcome to Mumbai!" the uncle exclaimed, his voice booming with genuine enthusiasm as he hugged the boy. "You're going to love it here. There's so much to see and do, and the opportunities are endless."

The boy looked up at his uncle, seeing in him a figure of strength and reliability. His uncle's confidence and charisma were infectious, and for the first time since the move was announced, the boy felt a flicker of excitement. Over the next few days, the uncle took the boy around the city, showing him the sights and sounds of Mumbai. They visited bustling markets, vibrant parks, and even the uncle's impressive office. Everywhere they went, the uncle seemed to know everyone, his presence commanding respect and admiration.

"You see, this city is full of possibilities," the uncle said as they walked through a bustling street. "You can be anything you want here. All you need is a little determination and a lot of hard work."

The boy nodded, his eyes wide with wonder. He began to believe in the promise of Mumbai, in the new life his uncle painted so vividly. He saw his father happier, and more engaged, and it gave him hope that perhaps things could be different here. The uncle's words and actions seemed to offer a lifeline, a chance for a fresh start. In school, the boy tried to adapt, using his humor to make new friends and navigate the unfamiliar terrain. His uncle's encouragement echoed in his mind, giving him the confidence to face each day. The boy's initial reluctance and dismay began to fade, replaced by a cautious optimism. He threw himself into his new life, eager to prove himself and live up to the expectations set by his uncle.

But beneath the surface, doubts lingered. The boy couldn't shake the feeling that the move while promising on the outside, had a deeper, unspoken cost. His father's newfound energy came with a tension, a drive that seemed almost desperate. The uncle's charm, though genuine, masked an intensity that hinted at underlying pressures. The boy's days in Mumbai were a whirlwind of new experiences and adjustments. As he settled into their new life, he couldn't help but notice subtle changes in the dynamics between his mother and uncle. It started with small gestures—a shared joke over dinner, a lingering conversation in the corner of the room, a touch on the arm that seemed to carry more meaning than before.

At first, the boy brushed off these interactions as signs of familial closeness in their new environment. His uncle had been instrumental in their move and was a prominent figure in their daily lives, so it made sense that their relationship would evolve. Yet, as weeks passed, the boy couldn't shake the growing unease in the pit of his stomach. One evening, he overheard snippets of conversation between his mother and uncle. They spoke in hushed tones, their voices carrying a warmth and intimacy that felt unfamiliar to the boy. His mother laughed at something his uncle said, a sound that was both joyful and unsettling in its rarity.

As he watched them from across the room, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over the boy. He felt a pang of protectiveness towards his mother, mixed with a creeping sense of betrayal that gnawed at his conscience. His father, absorbed in his work and the new opportunities Mumbai offered, seemed oblivious to the subtle shift in dynamics. Unable to contain his curiosity and concern any longer, the boy confronted his mother one evening when they were alone. 

"Maa," he began tentatively, his voice betraying his apprehension, "what's going on between you and Uncle?"

His mother looked at him with a mixture of surprise and sadness. She hesitated for a moment as if weighing her words carefully. "It's complicated, sweetheart," she finally replied, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

"But why?" the boy pressed, his confusion and worry bubbling to the surface. "He's... he's family."

"The real family is in the north." the boy pressed, "you aren't like this with them." 

As days turned into weeks, the boy observed his mother and uncle with a mixture of wariness and resignation. Their relationship, once rooted in familial ties, now seemed to tread a precarious line between comfort and ambiguity. He struggled to reconcile his protective instincts with the growing realization that some things, once broken, could never be fully understood or repaired. Obsessiveness. One evening, the boy found himself in an unsettling situation that would leave a lasting scar on his young mind. He had retreated to the small study room, seeking solace among his books and notes. The house was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that felt thick and heavy, making every creak and whisper seem amplified.

As he immersed himself in his schoolwork, trying to distract himself from the swirling thoughts about his family's shifting dynamics, he heard the soft murmur of voices approaching. The door to the study was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he saw his mother and uncle enter the adjacent living room. His heart raced as he watched them, his uncle's hand resting on his mother's shoulder in a way that felt too familiar. Panic gripped him, and he instinctively pressed himself against the wall, hoping to remain unnoticed. But he was trapped, unable to leave without drawing attention to himself.

The boy's mind raced with fear and confusion. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't muster the courage to confront it. He felt paralyzed, his breath shallow and his heart pounding in his ears. As the minutes ticked by, the boy's worst fears were confirmed. His mother and uncle, seemingly unaware or indifferent to his presence, engaged in a conversation that grew increasingly intimate. Their words were punctuated by quiet laughter and murmurs, the kind that hinted at a closeness that went beyond mere family bonds.

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he tried to process what was happening, but he did not move a single muscle to even wipe them off he sat there, as his heartbeat fastened. He did not blink his eyes until his vision was blurred. He felt a mix of betrayal, anger, and profound sadness. He had always looked up to his mother, and seen her as a pillar of strength and stability. Now, that image was crumbling before his eyes.

Despite his young age, the boy was perceptive, a trait that had always set him apart. But this situation was beyond his ability to comprehend or cope with. He felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as if the foundation of his world was being ripped away. Ignoring negative emotions is like keeping poison in your system. But there was no one ever present to teach him everything that he felt. He never knew the aim wasn't ever to force positive thoughts, but to transform the negative ones into something healthier, so you can feel better. But the boy never had anyone to tell him this. And his mind went blank. 

As the voices in the other room continued, the boy's mind spiraled. He thought about his father, about the sacrifices their family had made to move to Mumbai, and the hopes he had harbored for a fresh start. All of it now seemed tainted, a cruel illusion shattered by the harsh reality of human frailty and deception. Hours seemed to pass, though it was likely only minutes before his mother and uncle finally left the room. The boy remained frozen in his hiding place, his body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. He waited until he was certain they were gone before he dared to move.

When he finally emerged, the house felt empty and cold. The boy stumbled to his room, his mind a tumultuous storm of thoughts and emotions. He crawled into bed, pulling the covers tightly around him, seeking the comfort and safety that now felt so elusive. Sleep, however, did not come easily. The boy lay awake, haunted by what he had witnessed and the implications it held for his family. He felt an immense weight pressing down on him, a burden no child should have to bear. Despite his intelligence and resilience, he was, after all, only eleven years old. And there were limits to what even the sharpest young mind could endure.

In the days that followed, the boy withdrew further into himself, his humor and wit now a fragile mask to hide the turmoil within. He found it harder to concentrate in school, the laughter of his friends feeling hollow and distant. His trust in the world, and in the people he loved, had been profoundly shaken. The experience left an indelible mark on the boy, shaping his view of relationships and trust for years to come. It was a cruel lesson in the complexities of adult life, one that forced him to grow up far too soon, carrying the scars of that night deep within his heart.

2015

The boy's world continued to unravel in the months following the traumatic incident. His trust in his family was shattered, and he withdrew further into himself, his humor and wit now a fragile shield against the darkness that had seeped into his life. Just as he was beginning to find a semblance of stability, another storm was brewing on the horizon. One evening, a new face appeared at their doorstep—a young woman, vibrant and charismatic, with an infectious energy that filled the room. She was introduced as a relative of his uncle from a distant branch of the family. At twenty, she was full of life and seemed to carry an air of mystery and allure.

"She is here to stay with us for a while," the uncle announced, his tone casual but with an underlying excitement. "She's here for a vacation until then she'll help out at the work."

The boy observed her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Her charm was undeniable, and she quickly became the center of attention. She had a way of making everyone around her feel special, her laughter brightening even the gloomiest of days. But it wasn't long before the boy noticed a different side to Akira. She had a sharp, calculating gaze that seemed to pierce through his defenses. One afternoon, she cornered him in the hallway, her smile holding a predatory edge.

"Do you like peeking at everyone you see? what are you, a creep?" she said, her voice silky smooth. "I bet you could help me with a few things."

The boy nodded hesitantly, unsure of her intentions but too afraid to refuse. Her demeanor shifted, her charm replaced by a cold, manipulative intensity. Over the next few weeks, she drew him into her web, exploiting his vulnerabilities and using him for her twisted purposes. Her manipulation was subtle at first. She began by asking small favors, seemingly innocent tasks that gradually escalated into more sinister demands. She preyed on the boy's need for validation, dangling the promise of approval and affection just out of reach.

At times, one must wonder if every person in the world, male and female, young and old, has been sexually abused. No doubt the nature of one's work biases, one's perspective, perhaps severely. Sometimes you let certain people into your lives, countless individuals, people who are your next-door neighbors, your teacher, your partner, your doctor this one will hurt- your parents. For so many of them, a history of sexual abuse lingers like a chronic toothache, so familiar that it is no longer recognized, dulling the senses but not interfering with the capacity to perform the routine tasks of life. In most cases, you would never suspect who has been abused. If asked directly, many would not recall past abuse; others would lie to avoid the shame of admitting that they were victims of one of the few crimes where the victim feels more shunned and rejected than the criminal. 

After abusing the 12-year-old boy in secret and making him do all sorts of horrible bidding for her, she had the gaw to use his skin as an ashtray for her cigarettes. The boy, desperate for any semblance of recognition and love, complied with her increasingly disturbing requests. She pushed him into situations that left him feeling dirty and ashamed, each act chipping away at his sense of self-worth. Her sadistic pleasure in his discomfort was evident, and he quickly learned that resistance only led to more severe punishments.

One night, She orchestrated a particularly cruel scenario. She forced the boy to participate in a scheme that involved deceiving his family and betraying the trust of those around him. The weight of his actions crushed him, the guilt and shame becoming unbearable. The boy's mental and emotional state deteriorated rapidly. He became a shadow of his former self, his humor and light-heartedness extinguished by the darkness she had brought into his life. He felt trapped, his every move monitored and manipulated by her cruel hand.

In a moment of desperate clarity, he sought out his mother, hoping for some semblance of comfort. But the trust between them had been irreparably damaged, and his mother, preoccupied with her struggles, failed to see the depth of his suffering. Alone and abandoned, the boy's mind spiraled into a dark abyss. He was haunted by the realization that no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape the cruel machinations of those around him. His young spirit, once so full of promise and potential, was now broken, the scars of his experiences etched deeply into his soul. He was no protagonist of the story to have an outburst and solve everything, he was no hero to walk out there puffing up his chest and destroy every single claim on him. He was no one, crying to sleep became a routine since crying was the only way for him to sleep. He was smart enough to not give in to medicinal drugs…yet. 

Her presence loomed over him like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of the evil that could lurk behind even the most charming of facades. She had stolen his innocence and left him to grapple with the demons she had unleashed. In the end, the boy learned the harshest lesson of all: that sometimes, the greatest threats come from those who wear the most convincing masks.

One day, as abruptly as she had entered their lives, she packed her bags and left. Her vacation was over, and she had other places to be. The boy watched from a distance as she hugged his uncle and mother goodbye, her demeanor as cheerful and charming as ever. She offered him a final, chilling smile before walking out the door, leaving a gaping void in her wake. Life in the household returned to its usual routine, but nothing was the same for the boy. He was haunted by the memories of what had transpired, the weight of the secrets he carried crushing him from within. No one had discovered what she had done. To the family, she was just a vivacious relative who had come and gone, leaving behind fond memories and laughter.

The boy, however, was left with nothing but scars. He had hoped for some form of justice, some acknowledgment of the wrongs done to him. But life moved on, indifferent to his suffering. His father remained engrossed in his work, his mother continued her complicated relationship with the uncle, and the boy was left to navigate his trauma alone. He found himself withdrawing even further, his once bright and inquisitive nature dimmed by the darkness that had seeped into his life. His humor, once a defense mechanism, now felt hollow and forced. The friends he had made at school noticed the change, but they were too young to understand the depths of his pain.

"Maa, it's Diwali, why didn't you call the family from the north?" The boy asked emotionlessly.

"We did send a card, they never noticed it. It's not on us." The mother replied.

"Sending a card and going there ourselves to invite them has a huge difference." The boy replied without hesitation as he walked past her.

The boy's grades plummeted, and his concentration was shattered by intrusive thoughts and nightmares. He felt abandoned and betrayed, not just by his cousin but by the entire world. The belief that if he tried harder and excelled in his studies, he might gain his father's acknowledgment now felt like a cruel joke. Nothing he did seemed to matter. In this harsh reality, the boy learned a bitter truth: there are no happy endings, no neat resolutions where the wrongs are righted, and justice is served. Life, he realized, was often unfair and cruel, with no protagonists or villains—just people, each struggling with their battles, some inflicting wounds while others bore the scars.

With no outlet for his pain, the boy turned inward, building walls around his heart to protect himself from further hurt. He became a master of disguise, using his humor to mask the turmoil within, presenting a facade of normalcy to the world. But behind the mask, he carried the weight of his experiences, the trauma shaping the man he would potentially be alive to become. He learned to navigate his fractured world with a cynical understanding of human nature, his innocence lost to the harsh lessons of betrayal and manipulation. As he grew, he carried with him the scars of his past, a silent testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of unspeakable pain.

But fate had more trials in store for him. One afternoon, the doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of another storm in his life. His cousin, H.