Drum Roll Please.. Janaki is here....

Today I have the honor of introducing you to a beautiful and generous blogger, Janaki Nagaraj, I met last year. I got to know her through a crazy group of women called Indiblogeshwaris.
She has a captivating smile to go with her beautiful face. Mom of two kids (Farheena tells me I am fooling her, and Janaki is just a teen like her) Nidhi and Nishant, this wonderful woman blogs @ Memoirs of a Homemaker, where she blogs about her personal rants and musings. She started blogging three years ago. She creates amazing poetry, and has been recognized for her talent. She considers poetry to be her USP, because it helps her convey a message or point in few words. Her work has seen print! 

I am honored today to have her write a guest post for me. Read on you lucky people J

DON’T TOUCH ME

Once upon a time…well not that old. Let me start all over. Not so long ago, precisely 36 years ago, there was this cute little girl. She was cute with long, black, straight hair, inquisitive and dreamy eyes.

She was talkative and she was a free spirit but most of the time she liked to be on her own. Why? You may be curious to know.

She was the only girl among a house full of boys.

She was tired of playing boys only games.

She needed time for herself so that she could play with her doll.

And she was tired of complying or trying to fit in.

When the family moved to a different city, where her dad was transferred, she hoped she would make some girl friends. The problem was the language. She was a South Indian who had never travelled anywhere except to her grandma’s house which was in the same city. Still she tried. Her brother was more enterprising than her. He made both friends and enemies quickly. And the girl found it easier to play with them than take the trouble of making friends on her own.

The young girl’s family lived in the first floor while the ground floor had two houses, one was occupied by the owner of that building, the other house was rented out too.

Including the girl and her brother, there were three more girls and two boys in that building. Of the three girls, two were much older to her and the third girl was a year younger.

The girl’s brother was older to her, and so were the two other boys who lived in the same building. Those two boys were siblings. The older among the two was a teenager…around 14 years of age. Let us call him Pappu.

One Saturday afternoon, when the little girl’s mom was taking a nap and her brother was playing cricket with other boys in the street, she was playing with her doll. She was out on the patio in front of her house; she was talking to her doll and dressing her up.

The stairs to the terrace of the building was connected to their patio. Pappu, who was going up to the terrace, saw the little girl playing. He called her. “Choti, will you come up on the terrace? Let us play together.”

She was more interested in her doll. “Bhaiyya, I want to play with my doll.”

“You can play with the doll when Babli (his younger sister) comes up to play.”

The girl was somewhat convinced. She went to the terrace with him. He told her some stories. She was not interested. “When isBabli coming up? Let me go down and fetch her,” saying this she bounded down the stairs. He stopped her midway, “Babli is sleeping. She will wake up after some time. Come, I will tell you one more story. Mazedaarhai.”

They again went up the stairs. “Let us sit here on the stairs,” he said. She sat down and he sat behind her on the step above. He sat close to her…. too close. He pulled her towards him. She felt something was wrong. She turned back. She saw that the fly of his pant was open. She could see his penis. She ran down to her house, closed the door and slept next to her mom hugging her tight.

Pappu tried to talk to her many times after that. She did not play outside again. Even when the whole gang was there, she stayed next to her brother avoiding him totally.

Kids are very perceptive. Even at a very young age, they can differentiate between a ‘good’ and a ‘bad’ touch. But they are not able to express it. “You are too young to understand!”….  Parents please refrain from saying this to your kids. They can understand. Simply. Kids are sensitive to the moods and emotions of the elders. They are afraid of what the elders may tell them. They are afraid of being judged, of being chastised and being let down. The adults’ logic is lost on them. Kids can be naughty, bratty, they do lie too, and as parents the onus lies on us to be receptive to their feelings.