We all celebrate Rakshabandhan very fondly, where a brother promises to protect his sister, and in return, his sister puts her trust in him. But why always him? Why can’t she be in his place? I mean, how can a brother protect his sister all the time? What if he is not in a position to do it? What if he doesn’t even want to do it? Still, society would keep his strength over hers. Won’t they? No matter what she does for him throughout the year but on the day of Rakshabandhan, she would return to square one. To this ‘You need protection, and I will protect you’ promise. 

All girls can relate to irony. It’s always on their head. If the family protects them, they are tagged as a weak link, or if they protect and feed, they are the family’s man, son of the family. But never head of the family, never part of the family, never daughter of the family? Why this gender discrimination? 

Pooja Vyas – Her Story

Pooja Vyas speaks to HatkeStory about similar experiences she had in life. Her brother turned into her worst enemy, but she still protected him. She raised her family single-handedly, now people call her ‘Man of the family.’ Here is her story in her own words. 

My name is Pooja Vyas, and I was born and brought up in Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu. I’m a Gujarati. For college, I went to Bangalore. Currently, I’m working with Usha International. I love dancing and traveling. I live with my mother, and she is the only family I have right now. My father died a few years ago, and my brother lives in home care. 

Pooja Vyas with her Parents

It all started when I was in 5th standard. My own elder brother started molesting me. He would touch my body in inappropriate ways, and he’d tell me not to reveal it to anyone. He even threatened me, saying, ‘If you tell Maa. I’ll hit you.’ I was too young to understand the things that were happening around me. It continued for five long months, and I couldn’t gather the courage to break it to anyone. 

Five months later, I realized everything, and it felt wrong, but I didn’t tell anyone because my father was an alcoholic. They used to fight continuously, so I didn’t want to worry or fight them over this issue. But there was a kind of fear that was growing inside me. What if he tries to touch me or something? This question had plagued my mind like a disease, and he used to hit me and torture me when I was young. It was truly traumatic. At first, it didn’t feel too much. I didn’t have such feelings that it’s wrong. As I grew up, I came to realize it was horrible. 

It went on for about a year or so. Then my periods started. I told my brother to stop it, saying I would say it to my parents. My dad was an alcoholic, so he knew that I wouldn’t tell them. One day, he met with an accident and slipped into a coma. 

He had gone to Ooty with his friends, and there he fell from the cliff. His friends ran away and some random guy, the autowala, took his phone. He called my parents, and then my father contacted his friend who lived nearby. My dad’s friend knew someone in Ooty, and they helped us. So through that, he came in an ambulance to Coimbatore. Karan had suffered an internal injury, and he was in a coma for some months. Later, when he regained consciousness, his doctor told us that he would be like this for his whole life. My brother had forgotten his memory and became handicapped. Mentally and physically, both ways, he is 70 percent disabled. 

Pooja Vyas

After seeing my brother in that condition, I decided to forgive him. I thought that he would live his life like this only, so it’s better to forgive him. He got out of the coma, and I started taking care of him. It was tough to get over the memories, but the sister inside me won over the girl, and I led my guards down. I did everything for him, from teaching to playing, from giving medicines to helping him eat. I hoped that he would change, but he became the same monster again when he got a little better. 

He started passing comments on me like ‘You’re so sexy’ ‘I like your short.’ At that time, I couldn’t tolerate it, and I stopped talking to him. My mother noticed his actions and scolded him. She realized he wasn’t sane, and doctors confirmed her doubts. My mother took matters into her hand and kept us apart. She either told him or me to stay in the room.

Then another incident happened that shook me from within, and at that time, I saw the worst side of this cruel world. I realized how deep this molestation is. That day my parents were away, and my maternal uncle forced himself on me. He touched my breast forcefully. I was taken aback because he was as old as my grandfather.

I pushed him, but he held me back, saying, ‘This is common- all women have to face it!’ He gave me a 1000 Rs note to shut my mouth, but I threw it on his face and told my parents about it. My dad decided to file a complaint against him, but molestation has no proof, so he stopped. That incident made me strong, and I vouched to be vocal about it. 

Later, my dad came to know about Karan. He felt guilty for not being able to protect me and started drinking even more. My dad was a very good person, but he changed after drinking. I was close to him, and he had so many good friends. But, alcohol was the only thing that corrupted him. I hated those constant fights. All I wanted was relief from the things that were going on in my family. 

I decided to shift into a hostel, but my parents didn’t have enough money to fund my education. I come from a lower-middle-class family. My dad was a respected person in Coimbatore, and he had a decent salary, but we had financial troubles after his accident. His treatment bill was around 30 lacs. My father’s friends used to help him a lot, and my uncle (Friend’s dad, who helps people pay fees like an NGO) paid for my college fees.

To manage the rest of the money and hostel expenses, I used to do a part-time job and assist people in doing assignments. I had a good set of friends, so they used to ask me to accompany them to parties. I remember going to restaurants but not eating a thing. My friends would force me to eat from their plate, but I didn’t want to eat from their money all the time. So I restricted myself and stayed within the lines. 

At home, my father was falling sick. The doctor had advised him that if he drinks more, he may die. Then he stopped drinking for six months. Again he started the same thing. We tried our best to make him understand, but he never listened. Within a few months, he passed away. His death was a blow on my heart, and his funeral was one of the most challenging moments of my life. Burning his body felt like the heaviest thing in the world.

At his funeral, we didn’t have a boy to perform the final rites. My brother was supposed to do it, but he is disabled, so I did it, and my mom insisted on it. Although, one of my cousins had volunteered to do it. But my mother refused and fought with priests to let me do it, saying, ‘My daughter has done a lot for the family. She should be the one performing it.’ We are Brahmins, so I wore Lungi and Jonoyu, the sacred thread, and went on Shamshan Bhoomi to complete the rituals for cremation.

My friend and I were two girls who went there, and the rest of them were males. I took a holy dip in the water and did all the kriyas for the rest of the 13 days. It was a surreal moment for me, and I can never forget it in my lifetime. Post my dad’s death. It was a challenging time for us because we didn’t know how to live independently. So we had to do everything that he used to do regarding work and all. Living without him was tough and challenging. 

Life proceeded further and further. I got a good job and moved on with time. It was a proud moment for me when I was placed in one of the highest-paying jobs in my department. Life is good. Although marks are still there on my heart, I have healed to some extent. I still meet Karan sometimes in-home care, but I feel no emotional connection with him. I do a lot for my family, and people tell me that I’m the family man, but I don’t want to become a man. I’m the woman of the family).

I spent my life trying to erase this difference, but people bring me to the same square again and again. Let me tell you in loud and clear words, ‘I’m not the man of the family’ ‘I’m the daughter or woman of the family. I want to be recognized for who I am, and I don’t need these tags to survive in the world. I am strong enough to do it.

Pooja Vyas on a trip

You must be wondering why I disclosed such a dark story involving my family, but I realized it’s prevalent and wanted to talk about it. I feel it’s essential to break the taboo and cross these lines.

My message to you all is, ‘If it ever happens to you, then speak against it. Don’t hide behind a curtain. Come out and open up to the world. I agree society is full of shitheads, but there are good people too. To stop these practices, we need to unite and speak against them. The so-called safety and protection our families talk about doesn’t exist at all. So be courageous, break your barriers, and fight against these obstacles.’

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