Her bathroom was one of the best rooms in the house. It had full length mirrors on the three walls. She had designed it herself and had stood and overseen every minute detail. The taps, the accessories, the showers, the lights, the scrubbers, and everything in it were carefully chosen and picked and were unique. She used the best soaps, body wash, scrubs, astringents, perfumes and sprays. She was very fastidious about the cleaning of her bathroom too. The glass walls sparkled as did everything else in the bathroom. She took care of her bathroom…… Her bathroom she felt reflected her….it housed her naked self after all and she was in love with her body…she wanted a view of herself from all angles. She took great care of her body too…but that was then…a long time ago…before she got really soiled.

She enters for a bath. Hangs her immaculate white towel, these days she needed to change her towels twice a day, they actually got filthy…her grime seems to stick to everything that came in close contact with her body. She takes off her clothes, her nudity stares at her…what once enthralled her…she now found nauseating. She did not want to see her body, the dirty, repulsive body but the mirrors forced her to face it everyday. She hated her bathroom with the ever glaring mirrors, wanted to change them but was helpless…what reason would she give her parents. And she had to keep silent and not tell anyone about it….No! No one could be told……No one should know! She could not do anything that would make them suspicious.

She looks at her body, the flawless skin, and all of it is so dirty now, imperfect, stinking, sticky…she turns on the shower, the cool water sprays fall on her, soothing her, bringing her some respite from the conflagration inside. She takes out her face scrub and applies it on her face. The mirror startles her, it reflects her eyes, and they are vacant, dead, hollow, lifeless, and empty like a ghost. She is scared to look at herself, wants to cry but tears are a luxury ….. She has spent them all. She quickly finishes applying the scrub. But how does one clean one’s eyes? Maybe gorge them out!

She moves on to cleaning her body. She puts a generous amount of the body wash on the loofah and starts cleaning herself. She starts scrubbing her neck. The loofah feels rough on her neck like his hands… they were so brutal when they pulled her to him, the brutality left its indelible imprint … the soreness was still there and she tried desperately to wipe those inscriptions of viciousness from her neck.

She scrubs her shoulders, her right arm, her left arm, they were useless, never protected her, did not shield her from him, they were too cosmetic. They were so mucky. She started scrubbing them harder, they were not getting unsoiled. Her breast, her stomach, her legs, her entire body was full of grime and she felt a revulsion for her self. The foul smell in her nose was also disturbing her. She felt helpless as it would not leave her, she did not know how to clean her nose. Even though she did not want to have anything to do with her body she knew she had to clean herself. She scrubbed very hard between her legs, and then scrubbed her legs, but she could not rid herself of the dirt and the stink, her body was defiled by his brutal touch, his brutal smell, the sticky semen, his lust …. 

But wait! Was it him or her? Who was to be blamed? Did she tease him to bring this on herself….But why did her No’s make no difference, her protests were of no avail, why wasn’t she heard, was he deaf or so blinded in his depravity and retribution ..…

He was her school friend. They had studied together, known each other for years, then were together in college. They helped each other cope and fine-tune to the nuances of a metropolitan. Both had come from Jaipur to Delhi for higher studies. She trusted him so much. Actually they were six friends, and when all of them got jobs they decided to rent a flat rather than stay in working women’s hostel or elsewhere. They were four girls and to boys. She had got a job in the media and he had got a job in a corporate…. MNC.

It was perfect. She was very cozy with him, but she somehow never felt the stirrings of passion, he was her buddy, her friend. And things were fine until she got this job in Jaipur to work in an upcoming FM radio station. She looked forward to coming being with her parents, though she hated losing her freedom, those mad night outs, discos, drinks, smoking, harmless flirting, gallivanting till the early hours. She loved her wild ways yet longed for her anchorage.

She had told him and he was not happy. Of late she had noticed that he was getting overtly and needlessly possessive about her.

She moved into her new job. She found herself drawn towards her Director. She felt he reciprocated her vibes too. She was a stunner; she knew that it was difficult for a man to resist her charms. She told him about her feelings for the director over the phone. He was angry, irritated and he found it all disgusting….yeah! That was the word he had used. She knew she could mollify him in no time when they met. As chance would have it she had a meeting in Delhi. She looked forward to meeting her gang and appeasing him. As usual they had drinks, dinner and had planned to go for the late night show but they had an argument that soon converted into a fight. To avoid him she feigned a headache and stayed at home. She planned to leave as it was too unpleasant and ugly for her.

There was someone at the door. She opened, it was him. He apologized and she let it pass, they were friends. Then he tried to kiss her and she pushed him hard. And that was it…….

He had torn off her shirt, her skirt, he called her a slut, a tease and had messed up with him and he would teach her a lesson, she deserved to be raped, she would know now what a man is…that was what she wanted..... She screamed, hit him but she knew she was no match. He had thrown her on the bed, had hit her, pulled her by the hair and the more she struggled the worse it was getting, then the social stigma and how would she answer all those uncomfortable questions….everything was flashing through her mind, how would she face her parents, they did not know that there were boys too in the flat, so many breaches of social norms, the veil could not be lifted, too may complications….. And she had succumbed to that animal, she went numb, dead…. She was observing him from afar, she was out of her body, and this was not happening to her…..and he defiled her dreams of her prince charming on a white steed, those tender moments were dripping through her eyes, as she felt his hands all over her body, his body on hers, like a thousand centipedes were crawling over her… his body hair stung. She watched in fascination…. this contrast, this play of the two faces of love or hate whatever you call it…it did not matter now on her body. And it was over, the centipedes stopped crawling, the brutal stroking subsided.  

She got up and washed herself; she was a calm, strong, girl and her friends would be back soon. She had to maintain that shroud of dignity; no one would know that she was such a …... She went to the bathroom and washed and changed into fresh clothes and cried. How she wished she could change her body!!!! And she kept crying for her lost friend, her lost faith, the lost trust, the lost girl and even her lost virginity. She had been raped of her dignity, her self respect, her dutiful right to exist. She had been raped of her voice, of her life and she wept because she had been raped……. raped by her best friend.

She took the 5 am bus for Jaipur. He kept apologizing, sent numerous messages, made innumerous phone calls and was magnanimous to suggest marrying her. She felt she was a stone. Her steely calm was alarming her. But she did not know what to do with the dirt that was stuck on her body, and how could she remove his brutal touch, his brutal hands, his brutal smell, his brutal eyes, those revengeful, accusing eyes, from her body, they seem to be stuck on her. And that awful smell of his….inside her….. it was echoing in her head, she wanted to clean herself inside out.

After returning to Jaipur she had immersed herself in her work. Her colleagues commented on her lost smile, but she was oblivious to them. She felt no reason to be alive. She could talk to no one .... not even herself about what happened….. She had been a bad girl, lied to her parents, did things which good girls never did, and God had punished her for her sins. She had even kissed him a few times, but he never could fuel the hunger, the fire she was seeking…and so they…actually she had decided to be just friends with him.

But damn it…it was her fault, she was to blame. He was right, she lead him on, flirted with him.  And look!!! what she made him do!! She felt burdened by her guilt, shamed by her conduct. When he called her she answered his calls, spoke to him, and told him it was not his fault, it was hers and he needn’t worry, it angered her but nothing more. 

But she felt dirty, very dirty. All she wanted was to feel unsullied, spotless, pure, clean,cleansed and new. But all she felt was dead, decayed, and numb. She needed to feel alive; she needed proof that she was living. But she was guilty; she did not deserve it.

The director had noticed her vacant look. He felt something was not right. She did not feel anything…..but went all out for the director. She would ensure that they were alone, she was her best, she lured him and she knew that the director too would do what he had done.….. Every man was a rapist after all…. The director did not even touch her, he just was too kind and she was not swayed. But somehow his gentleness and concern was affecting her.

She was convinced now that the director was the only man who could rid her of that foul smell and that filthy touch that had come to characterize her. She made love to him, she did not feel anything, mechanical moves….but she hoped that the director’s smell of masculinity would overpower his foul smell inside her, the director’s strong, reassuring, sturdy touch would erase, eradicate his brutal touch. And after repeated performances, the same foul smell and touch was wedged on to her insides and outsides, it just refused to let go of her.

She washed and rewashed herself. She heard a loud knock on the door. ‘Please come out didi…it has been more than two hours.’ She washed herself and looked at her reflection, she was not satisfied, still she felt unclean but knew that her sister would raise the roof is she took more time so she came out as soon as she could. ‘Didi what is wrong with you? Ever since you have come back from Delhi you take so much time …My God! What have you done to yourself? You have scrubbed so hard, your skin is all red and peeling.’ She didn’t hear what was said, ‘tell me am I clean, do I smell clean or do I need to bathe again, I hope my bath is not wasted’.