#TalkingStalking: My 14-Year-Old Body Gave Him Wet Dreams


(Photo: iStock)
(Photo: iStock) This is a tale of a 14-year-old. Rebellious, determined and fiery.

#TalkingStalking: My 14-Year-Old Body Gave Him Wet Dreams

This is a tale of a 14-year-old girl. Rebellious, determined and fiery.

I still remember the anger I felt when I was denied a scooty. Everyone around me had one. To make things worse, my younger brother was given the keys to my father’s old motorbike.

I was on a short leash at that point of time. Apart from regular curfews, the Laxman Rekha was drawn at a distance of about 10 yards from my building. I was allowed to cross that, only when accompanied by someone...

Despite the strict policing, you can imagine why I wanted a vehicle of my own. I was craving to break free.

Surprisingly, I was allowed to walk to the first tuition I ever took.

Alone.

It was a 15-minute walk and I afforded myself the privilege of day dreams and random musings. Thus, to no one’s surprise, I was oblivious to the smiling stalker in the blazing heat of the summer afternoon, tracing my steps slyly in a Scooty. I was unaware of him until I found him waiting under a tree, right opposite my tuition teacher’s place. He called out to me while I was crossing the road.

 He called out to me while I was crossing the road.
He called out to me while I was crossing the road.
(Photo: iStock)

I stopped in my tracks and looked at him – he didn’t fit the bill of the usual awara, lafandar. I raised my eyebrow at him and he smiled. I knew he meant trouble. I ran inside immediately, hoping against hope I wouldn’t see him again.

No such luck, though.



Every day he would stalk me. I never looked into his eyes.
Every day he would stalk me. I never looked into his eyes.
(Photo: iStock)

Every day he would stalk me. I never looked into his eyes. I changed routes, I found a friend to accompany me, I took my brother along....but nothing would stop him.

He followed me to my building, went to the shop where I used to get my phone balance recharged, and copied down my number. At first, it was ‘Hye, wanna b fnz’; then came the messages about my 14-year-old body and how it was a subject of his wet dreams. I was naïve and terrified. I blocked the number, but didn’t share any of this with my parents.

Wherever I went, I found him – hiding, sitting on his scooty or massaging his penis and pointing it towards me. I dropped out of my tuition classes and I stopped stepping out of my house. My mother thought it was an act of rebellion.


I stopped applying kajal.
I stopped applying kajal.
(Photo: iStock)

Surprisingly, I felt guilty and ashamed. I thought it was my fault that he was stalking me. Once, he tried to approach me and touch my hand. I screamed my heart out until a lady came out of her house and he fled in fear. She looked at me and said, ‘agar tum is tarah se kajal lagaogi, toh ladke peeche padengey hi’.

I stopped applying kajal.

Today, at 24, when I look back, I feel stronger, wiser and braver. I have, over the years, learnt not to give in to anything or anyone who shames me for being my own person.

But my heart still beats faster when I sense someone walking behind me. Unwittingly or otherwise. I still think twice before looking over my shoulder and into his/her eyes. Yes, I do.

(The Quint is now on WhatsApp. To receive handpicked stories on topics you care about, subscribe to our WhatsApp services. Just go to TheQuint.com/WhatsApp and hit the Subscribe button.)

Follow our Blogs section for more stories.