Today, I feel like getting raped!

NOTE: This article is a hypothetical and sarcastic story that Priyanka Neupane wrote as a tribute to innocent girls being raped almost every day. More recent events have only gone to show how out of hand this social evil is getting, and even more concerning is the fact that it is usually the victims who get the brunt of the blow. Priyanka’s take on the issue brings things to light from a slightly provocative perspective. Maybe that is just what this escalating situation needs.


This was just a usual morning for me, Well, apart from this nagging urge in the back of my head; an unrelenting urge to get raped.

I went into the kitchen and helped my mom prepare breakfast/lunch while my dad and brother got some extra hours of sleep before starting their day. But that’s ok, because as women, it is our job to run the kitchen. If not us, who else? The idea of sharing my urge to get raped with my mom runs across my mind, but I refrain. What if I don’t get raped? Then she’d just be disappointed as well. So, I decided on waiting to see how the day went.

Finally, household chores were done and I get ready to go to work. I picked a pink top and a pair of black pants to wear, hoping it would be ample provocation for someone to rape me. Although it didn’t reveal too much of my skin, I convinced myself that my sole existence as a woman should be reason enough to provoke a few men, if not all. Pondering about how else I could instigate an occurrence, I got onto a bus. It was crowded and I was running a little late. But I couldn’t afford to get a cab. But since I was looking to get raped, this could actually work out for the best. I pushed my way through and sandwiched myself between a middle-aged woman and an elderly man. 7 stops away from my destination, I felt a hand on my rear. It was the elderly man. I turned around to glare at him upon which he chose to reply with a toothless grin. He reminded me of my grandfather. His groping didn’t stop. I tried to push his hand away but he resisted; the feisty old man. In hindsight, I see that it was my fault that my buttwasinhisway-Ichoseto place my butt near him. Man it felt great, being groped by a strange man who was about the same age as my grandfather. A perfectly normal bus ride, right? To my utter disappointment, he got off after 3 stops and I was forced to bear the loneliness of his departure.

Soon, I got to work and my day began. Mr. Sharma, my boss, was in a good mood. Unlike most other days, he refrained from blatantly pointing out my inadequacies to perform certain tasks, which somehow directly correlated with my gender. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull his favorite “Go get me my sandwich” joke on me either. Let me tell you a little bit about my office. There are two categories of male workers: firstly, there is the nice group who mind their own business and treat you like a normal coworker. Then, there is the other faction that thinks women belong in the kitchen and being in the office is an obvious waste of time. They also seem to possess the ability to undress me with their eyes and have their way. I put up with everything, just like every other woman working here. In a male dominated society, you either get fired or just learn to put up with that bullshit. But I am not complaining at all. As a woman, I know where my place is!

There are two categories of male workers: firstly, there is the nice group who mind their own business and treat you like a normal coworker. Then, there is the other faction that thinks women belong in the kitchen and being in the office is an obvious waste of time.

Any ways, I had to work until late that night. Thankfully, Mr. Sharma offered me a ride back home. After two years of working for Mr. Sharma, I learned that on the days he is happy, he doesn’t mind doing people favors. So I accepted his invitation and got in his car. He was being nice to me for a change. We are about fifteen minutes away when he took a sudden exit away from my home, which was confusing. He stopped somewhere which looked like the middle of nowhere. I tried to get out but the doors were already locked. I was trapped in and before I could even understand what was happening, his hands were on my thighs and making his way everywhere else. My protests were gone in vain. He raped me; then he threatened to fire me and destroy my life if I dare opened my mouth. I felt two tight slaps on my face marking an end to his act. Finally he dropped me home.

Well, my urge was fulfilled. I was looking to get raped and I did. Now my next step was to go to the police station and report the incident and announce to the world that I got raped. Hence, I did. No-brainer, I was asked for evidence. Tsk Tsk Tsk.. I am so stupid. I left the house in the morning with that determination of getting raped but foolishly forgot to grab a camera or recorder to capture that moment. I also forgot to bring along a friend or passerby to observe the moment. The moment that I would like to remember and cherish for the rest of my life. Every court I go to, I have to explain every little detail. Every reporter I meet wants to know the details. I get interviewed and people want to know the detail. Everybody freaking wants to know every single thing that happened! Because hey, if I don’t tell the world the detailed description of this story of mine, how will they ALL believe me?

Due to lack of enough evidence, (and a lot of money) Mr. Sharma is set free. Now, he is going to fire me for sure. About the society since I lost the case, I was definitely the one who provoked him or wanted a promotion which is why the whole thing happened. My father didn’t really want to support me in the first place because of his “status” in the society. In his eyes, I have always been a rebel wanting to go to school, get a job, and doing all the things women shouldn’t be doing. After all, we were born to run the kitchen and raise kids, what was I even thinking? My mother lives in the fear of never being able to find me a good husband now. And me? Well, I asked for the rape and I provoked Mr. Sharma and I was the one to somehow forget to collect evidence. So maybe I made a mistake? I am sorry, dear society, for seeking justice and letting you down! I wish I had that camera or a witness!

Article Contributed by: Priyanka Neupane
CHECK OUT HER BLOG: snout2013.blogspot.com

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