On a chilly August morning in 2010, I first stepped into a prestigious engineering college and soon the introductions began. Time flew, and before the day was over, I had a huge girl group, and that was all that mattered to me. Soon our freshers’ party was due, the only glitch in the excitement being that there was entry only for couples.
Several guys asked me to go with them, but I refused. First, none of them interested me and second, I did not know any guy well enough. So I decided to give the party a miss until I bumped into a senior who asked me to help him carry some books to the library. As a first-year student, you don’t really have the option to say no, so I helped him carry the books to the third floor.
We spent about an hour or maybe even more (I had lost total track of time!) in the library, discussing our interests and hobbies. During the course of our conversation, I realised that Harish was a second-year mechanical engineering student and chivalry was his second name. We got along like a house on fire, and now there was no way I was not going to the party.
Over the next couple of months, the more we interacted, the more we realised how compatible we were and then on December 2, 2010, Harish proposed to me! It was one of the most beautiful days of my life. I wanted to shout to the whole world and tell them how lucky I was to have him.
We did have fights like any other couple, but the make-up sessions made those trivial fights totally worth it.
Sadly, the initial honeymoon phase of our relationship started wearing off. From a secure, confident man, Harish began turning into a possessive, controlling person. By now, I was viewing myself through his eyes. I would only do things that he would approve of and the strong independent gal that I was, became a thing of the past. Verbal abuse followed by a couple of apologies was routine and I accepted all of it just because I did not want to lose him. This relationship meant the world to me, and so forgiving him was never really a task.
I tried talking things out with him and telling him how much he meant to me. I did my best to tell him that his anger bouts were detrimental to our relationship, but all in vain. I can still picture that scene in the college library, where we both met after our classes were over for the day. I cupped his face in my hands and said, “Harish, why can’t we be like our earlier days? You know you mean the world to me.” He replied, “You do what I say and I will never fight with you. Stop questioning me!” He went on to say, “If I am angry with you, then you deserve it.”
This conversation was the last straw. We were two independent individuals who got into a relationship because we effortlessly brought out the best in each other.
Harish no longer wanted the girl he fell in love with, but wanted a puppet, and hence with a heavy heart I told him, “Harish, I guess it’s best we part ways.” To my surprise, he just said, “Ok” and walked away.
That day I sat alone in the library for hours. I sat in the same place where Harish and I first spoke. With tears rolling down I realised that I just lost a part of myself. The awesome moments we spent together, to me being a victim of verbal abuse, all played in my head. Though the pain of losing him was too much to bear, somewhere deep down I knew that I’d done the right thing. It was now time to bond again with my friends and family, the people who I know will always be there.
Now I have matured as an adult and take more sensible decisions. I don’t think I will ever hate Harish; he will always hold a special place in my heart. However, now I will never fall for someone like him, because this time around I will value my happiness and individuality a little more. I will value it enough to break away the first time someone verbally or physically degrades me.