An Open Letter to those Opportunist Uncles who Sexually Abuse women on Buses

Dear Bad Uncle who sexually abuses girls on the bus,

How are you doing? I’m sure you should doing be fine. Why wouldn’t you? You vehemently grab all the facilities and free services on the bus for the cash you pay for travel. By free services, I’m referring to the fact that you inflict on us, your sexually abusive ideas and games that don’t seem to amuse anyone but you.

It must excite every hormone in you, to see a horde of girls standing, unable to find seats to sit, though why, I really don’t know. For, most of the times, you happen to be this man with graying hair, a small bald spot right over the centre of your perpetrating head, a little tummy and the looks of that perfect middle-aged household man – married to an unfortunate woman and a father of kids who are probably as old as me.

I think I have it written on me in ink I cannot see, that I travel on bus to offer you a free aphrodisiacal service. Forgive my usage of words unacceptable in a letter to someone as old and ‘respectable’ as you , but I have been driven to it, considering the setting that you pay just about ten rupees and it has a gross effect of making me feel like a ten-buck harlot. Someone who moves away, squeezes through and shouts asking you to move away with a prefix of a disgustingly sounding ‘uncle’ ; which does not ring any bells concerning your age or stature.

Let’s get this straight. Are you sex-deprived? If so, I am sure there might be other people who might willingly help please your desires. Talking about that, you seem like you have been doing it for more than half your life, so, what pleasure do you exactly get out of pressing your groin against my back or giving me one of those stares that make me feel like I have been stripped naked beyond my clothes?

Sometimes when I tell people about you, a lot of my clan and a major chunk of yours come up saying I should not provoke you. But, we know the truth, don’t we gentleman?

That me wearing a bikini or being covered from head to toe doesn’t make any difference. Only we know that you’ll still feel me up irrespective of what I wear under the pretext of the bus brakes, the crowd and immense movement caused ‘accidentally’. Now, we know that don’t we?

There are a lot of nice uncles you know. They don’t necessarily smile or give up their seats to a standing lady, but at least they don’t touch me. They sure don’t fake smiles that you do when you stand behind, pushing your crotch against my back as a despised organ, which I feel you could’ve been created without.

Bad Uncle, do you have a daughter? A girl as old as I am or much younger. For all that you know, she might be undergoing the munificent treatment similar to what your perverted mind and body does to me. What if you have a son and he becomes like you? I shudder to think about you creating a followers crowd.

Honestly, I just wanted to tell you that you are literally and figuratively a pain in the wrong place. Just keep away from me or as an architecture student, I’ll put my drafting and model making materials and appliances to other use than what it is marketed for(too bad I’m not a carpenter or a surgeon).

Yours hatefully,

Hemalatha Venkatraman

(One of those many girls you made feel like a ten-buck harlot.)

Reader, writer, dog-lover, dreamer…loves speaking to stars, the wind and herself.