Where Did All The Fairies Go?

Tell me something my dear Blog.. is it ever possible to bookmark the particular second when one rolls into an oblivion called 'sleep' ? Or is it possible to remember the time when past memories metamorphosizes into demons which lurks at the back of our mind, forever threatening us to take over our lives? Or is it even possible to remember when one stops living and becomes a zombie? I guess you won't be able to. I don't blame you either. Today, as I sit down and place my fingers on the keyboard, a sudden sense of nausea overpowers me.

Once there was this young girl.. no, child.. a 10 year old child, who was very fond of watching gold fishes swim in an aquarium full of clear water. Her constant nagging got her an aquarium full of gold fishes but it also got her an 'Uncle', her neighbour, who was to teach her how to feed those fishes. The girl was so happy that she was prepared for her first 'class' much before her 'teacher' knocked on their door. The first sunday afternoon her mom was there with them. It was one of the best afternoons of her life. The next sunday, her mom was resting in her room on the 2nd floor and as usual the girl was squealing in delight at the little tricks her 'Uncle' was showing her as he deftly handled the fishes.

She clapped her hands when the gold-fishes raced each other to catch the worms, she laughed in glee when everytime she tapped on the aquarium's glass walls and saw the fishes darting away in panic and she also inwardly squirmed each time her 'Uncle' touched her unnecessarily. Her skin crawled whenever his fingers lingered on her body for seconds extra than needed and quickly left her side whenever he heard footsteps coming towards the room.

One afternoon, he asked her to come and stand beside him, on a stool. Her first reaction was to cringe away but then when he told her that he got a candy stick in his trouser's pocket she got tempted as anyone at her age will be and she climbed up that stool. But no matter how many times she asked him to give her that promised candy all she got as an answer was to 'take it out' herself from his pocket. Finally after many a requests, a 10 year old's curiosity got the better of her and she put in her tiny hands into his trouser's pockets. But she couldn't find her treasure.

"Get your hands deeper little one", she was instructed.
"Yes, a little more on the left side." Further instructions came.
"Do you find a hole in the fabric? Yes, you do? Get your fingers inside that hole angel, you'll find your candy there." She did as she was told.

But just for a second, 'cause whatever her little fingers touched was a sensation she can never rub off from her hands for the rest of her life, unless she chops off her fingers. She never really knew hatred, disgust, fear and sheer helplessness in her 10 years of life.. but all that changed in those split few seconds. She withdrew her tiny hand so fast as if she has touched molten fire eventhough her 'Uncle' tried to put it back to where it was. It was only after she screamed at the top of her lungs that he let go off her. She never ran up those stairs to the 2nd floor where her mom was, as fast as she did that afternoon.

She didn't know why, but she somehow realised that this was wrong. This was not the way her other relatives hugged her. This was not the way her other relatives kissed her. And this was certainly not the way her other relatives touched her. She understood the types of touches and the nature of touches she has to avoid for the rest of the life too early in her life. She was just 10 years old and had no idea why she felt they were wrong. Somehow, in that little mind of hers, dawned a realization which made her grow older than her age. A realization which she was forced to understand.

She was lucky, 'cause for some reason which she still doesn't know, her 'Uncle' stopped coming to their house... or may be he was 'stopped' from coming to their house. After all these years, she asked me a question. A question whose answer I'm still searching for.. an answer I'm sure a lot of us are still searching for...
"He has a daughter now, does he ever look at her and fear that someone might do the same thing to her as he did to me for so many sundays? I was just a child, all of 10 years of age..."

All childhood tales are not fairy tales. Atleast not this one.