On a fatal summer night, every floor of the house, bolting them inside, was under the comfort of their ceiling fans and water coolers. Television was at its highest decibel, competing and trying to suppress the neighbour’s cacophony.

Between all these, Aarav was trying to complete his homework. Playful, kind-hearted, cultured, sweet, cute, pure at its own kind, intelligent, bright—these are a few synonyms that could describe him. Aarav, in his middle school, was a bit different than the regular kids. A soft-spoken child who was nurtured very delicately by his relocated parents. Elder sibling to his loving sister. Even a small argument could get him into pain and make him cry. He excelled in co-curricular activities as a painter, the choir’s lead singer, and an impassioned dancer. Sports were never his forte. When all the kids spent time on the field tossing the ball, he spent it under the tree, in the corner of the shadowed pillar, or in the music or art room. He was often mocked, too. But with time, he mastered the art of evading.

Everything was fine except his fear of a few subjects, which is again common to any ordinary kid. Everyone surely can’t excel in everything. And his bourgeois family couldn’t afford private home tuition. So, he often used to land up in Mr. Mukherjee’s room.

Mr. Raja Mukherjee, a well-built, handsome finance professional and bachelor in his mid-20s, used to live in one of the small quarter rooms on the terrace of the same house. Being a person of the same community, he was regular and had a hold on Aarav’s house too. He liked reading Hindi erotic murder mysteries and detective novels.

Like other days, Aarav showed up with his science book. All he again had was some queries. Raja, lying in the middle of the floor over his belly, bare-chested with a torn pair of pyjamas sliding down his torso, was reading another novel. The room, consisting of a foldable bed, a cooler, an earthen water pot, and a few pieces of luggage containing his daily wear, was tiny and quite empty. Aarav was called in and was asked to bolt the door so the room could remain cool. He was instructed to read a chapter while Raja completed his. Later, he sat down and explained to Aarav his queries. It was like a regular flow until his hand slid into Aarav’s shorts. Unknowing of things and Raja’s spontaneity, Aarav was numb. Till he could understand anything, Raja had his Mickey. He touched, mouthed, and jacked him off. His numbness was overpowered by a sense of relief, confusion, and disgust. This time, he couldn’t even shed a tear, as he couldn’t understand anything. All his eyes could see was Raja’s horrified smile, a finger on his lips, and the other hand cleaning Aarav’s fluids on his pyjamas. Aarav was summoned not to talk about this incident to anyone, as his parents would not believe him and he would again become a subject of mockery. Raja knew his weakness really well. He took him to the restroom to get him cleaned and took off his clothes too until he was naked, and this time Raja jacked in front of him. He watched it all, standing helpless. And that was his first physical encounter with abuse.

With the passing days, Aarav grew comfortable with his own abuser. The intimacy mushroomed between them. From shower to bed, Raja was teaching him a lot, which was inappropriate for his age. Lust homicides the kid’s innocence. Aarav’s life was no longer normal. He thrived on this strange feeling called love. After getting back from school, he used to yearn for his sight. Running up the stairs and escorting him to his door, he did it all.

This lasted placidly for almost 36 months, till Raja decided to tie the knot with a lady his mother chose for him. Aarav could see that his time was getting divided and neglected like zilch. And with time, it became dreadful, till Raja left that noon when Aarav was in his school. He cried all that night, hiding his tears from all. The abuse that the child mistook for love has left a lasting impact on his mental health and broken him forever. The playful, kind-hearted, cultured, sweet, cute, and bright boy was nowhere to be found. He was cursing himself in his own grievance. All he wished was, “Had he not had a query that night?”.