When my mother finally informed me that the wedding had been arranged, I accepted it thinking of it as an arranged marriage and I decided in my head that I’ll not think of it as an ‘incestuous relationship’. Everything was done in the greatest hurry and secrecy. I was too numb to protest. I knew Deepak was gone. It was either that or my mother committing suicide (or not).

On the night of my wedding, my mother gave me a cringing talk about my wifely duties. I was still too dazed to take it all in. But the full blast of it came to me when I was locked up in a room with my cousin. I had the greatest difficulty trying to understand the fact that he was also my husband.

The first full sentence he said to me was  – “Show me”.

Disgusting. I was immobile with shock. “Don’t make me yell!” he threatened. I still didn’t know what to do. The next thing I knew was how he whispered in my ear, “I know all about your past. Because of you, my parents had to hush up the wedding of their only son!” and then he commanded me to be his “wife”. That night was worse than everything else that had preceded it. I still shudder at the thought of how violently I was treated by my own cousin in that room, just to be my husband.

I suffered this abuse for months. For the first few months, I would hold my breath till I got my period and relief would flood through me. I wasn’t allowed to interact too much with the outside world, especially my immediate family because my husband and his family were too scared of what I’d do since I was educated enough and they knew that an irreparable damage had been done. I don’t know why men do this.

I don’t know why they get so aggressive if you don’t reciprocate in the way they want you to. But slowly, I was gauging courage every day. To get out of this mess since I fell for it way too easily, like most of us Indian girls do for their parents’ honour. I probably just didn’t want to be a victim of honour killing.

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