At 20, Dinesh got into a deadly car accident just as he was about to enter his senior year of college. In this story of true grit, Dinesh talks about how he got back on his feet.
Nearly 5 years ago, I was another typical student at the age of 20 with plenty of dreams. I was supposed to leave for the United Kingdom to complete my final year of studies. This new phase of life had me exhilarated. I didn’t know that in a second, my life would change.
That specific day back in June 2010, I was driving back home when I got involved in a wretched car crash. Surviving despite the extent of the injuries was an amazing miracle to begin with. I suffered a brain concussion, fractured ribs that led to punctured lungs on both sides, a ruptured and dislocated spine that resulted in an injured spinal cord, leaving me unconscious in the ICU for some time. Read more…
2 comments - What do you think? Posted by
April 8, 2015 at 2:33 pm
A very hot issue being discussed in not just our country but around the world today is no, not GST but rape. The outcry for rape begun when a college girl in Delhi, was brutally raped and was left for death in the year 2012. After a while it died down but the flames were started once more when BBC decided to make a documentary about it and despite India’s best effort to stop it, it was leaked in YouTube.
I watched it and I was really disgusted by the accused and their lawyers as well. They have no remorse. Now let’s forget about India and come to Malaysia since I am from here. Recently I came across a video on Facebook about a social interview by Astro on what the Indian community in Malaysia think about safety for women and rape victims.
When I started watching that video, I was so sure that Malaysian Indian (because they only interviewed Indian men and women) men were going to make me proud by saying that they will marry rape victims. Oh my, I was sadly in for a very rude awakening. I am not saying all men are of those opinion but let’s talk about those who were interviewed.
So this is going to be really long essay about MLM (Multi-Level Marketing).
I’m not referring to Insurance or Amway or Avon, this company has been there for decades and they have legitimate products and services. (I’m not doing any of this and please don’t approach me as my parents have a cupboard full of insurance policies for me and my siblings)
So, when my parents are approached by their friends or customers to come to their MLM business introductory talk, I become the scapegoat of the family.
“I will send my son, he will explain to me later” – My parents
This has been happening since I was 15, and as I got older, I started going for the sake of my friends. Well, these friends are the ones that you forgot they exist; you would have just met them at a school reunion. They will start being so caring and offer to bring you out for a tea and BOOM!! You will be in a room watching a man screaming and shouting as if he is constipated followed by cheering from the crowd for no reason as if they’re possessed.
If you have the guts, punch this friend who brings you to places like this without informing you earlier as I didn’t have the guts to do so. Pls!! If possible scream “HEBAAAT!!!!” Before landing your fist on their face. I’ve seen so many MLM companies, been to their talks and trust me, I’m dumb but I can draw their “Best Business Plan in the world” upside down or left to right and I can imitate them so perfectly. One common thing among this company is their blood sucking plan that promises you the perfect luxurious life if you bring more members.
My life has been one long drawn nightmare. All the memories keep replaying like they’ve just happened yesterday. No matter what we do, there are some memories that we never forget.
My father was a very strict man. My mother was a housewife. My father was in many ways very caring and loving, but at times his temper would flare and he would take his anger out on his family. He would beat us, strangle us, attempt to drown us in the bathtub, and even sometimes throw us from our first floor balcony down to the ground. He kicked, punched and stomped me until I was 17. I’d go to school bruised and wounded, and every time someone asked, I’d have to think up a different excuse. As a child, I used to think he’d torture us because we have done something wrong. But as I grew up, I realized he made us his punching bag because he needed to release his tension. He never smoked or drank: he was simply a violent, angry man. But even getting beaten up was better than witnessing my mother gets beaten in the same way. My mum was a homely and quiet person. She would get hit mostly because she tried to stop him from hitting us.
The infamous sick fuck from Klang who once sparked global outrage when a video of him abusing two young kids was published in Facebook.
Sadly, this was only one aspect of my childhood. Along with getting beaten, I was sexually abused multiple times during my childhood. When I was 5 and 6, my auntie’s son, who was in his early 20’s, stayed at my house for a short time. Whenever I was home alone with my cousin, he would touch me. His touches led to more actions, and eventually he forced me to perform oral sex on him. His explanation was that this was the way cousins show their love for each other. When he moved out, his brother molested me for almost a year. I never understood what was happening. I have never been told not to let anyone behave this way towards me. I didn’t even know what was happening was wrong.
As the years passed, I tried to bury my memories of my sexual abuse. But when I was 13, it happened again. My mother’s youngest brother-in-law began living at our house. He was a pervert, and our whole family knew it, but nobody ever expected he’d prey on his own family. But he did. One day, I came home from school early because I was feeling sick and feverish. I took the bus home, and had the house to myself. I took medicine and immediately fell asleep. Suddenly, I was awoken from my sleep by a terrible, almost unbearable pain. I then realized I was lying naked in my bed with someone on top of me. By the time I fully realized what had happened; my uncle was through with me. I pushed him away and locked myself in the bathroom. I panicked: I did not understand what happened.
At that age, all I knew about sex was it is something adults do, and should only do after marriage. After my family came home, I felt safer and went back to my room. There was blood on my sheets. I could barely sleep that night because of the pain in my body. I told my cousin the next day what had happened. She begged me to not tell anyone, believing that if I told, it would surely split my family up. She told me I would only humiliate myself. I convinced myself not to tell anyone. I didn’t want my parents to feel like they had failed to protect me. I kept quiet and started to avoid my uncle completely.
But one day, I was late to school. I had no choice but to ride with him. Halfway through, he began asking me questions about that afternoon he raped me. He asked if I enjoyed it. He told me he should be teaching me how to do it, and that it could be our little secret. I was trying so hard not to cry. I did not want to look weak in front of him. When we reached the school, he gave me RM5 and told me to ‘keep it for the night’. It was if my virginity was worth only RM5 to him. I tore it up in front of him and ran to school. Once at school, I broke down. I told my friends what had happened and asked them to keep it secret. They back-stabbed me and spread it around not only to our school, but to other schools nearby. Read more…
8 comments - What do you think? Posted by
July 15, 2014 at 1:43 pm
This is not a fictional story, though I wished that it were. This is my story, the story, which I had told to many close friends, and the people who mean a lot to me, but I felt that nobody understands the gravity of such incident on a little person. They just brushed it aside as an incident that has to be forgotten. No it will never be forgotten or go away.
I was 6 when it happened. A beloved cousin who was much, much older, came to work in the same estate as we lived. He had a car, which was a big deal back then. I adored him; he always had a surprise in his car, a Cadbury chocolate! Just for me, not for sharing but only if I went for a drive with him. And my mother will let me run and get into the car. Then it starts, the hand slips into my dress on top, while I ate the chocolate bar. I didn’t understand the feeling I had when he did so except that the chocolate was tasty and that’s all I remembered for most of the time. Then I’m let off the car and I run back home happily. Read more…
14 comments - What do you think? Posted by
June 30, 2014 at 1:22 pm
Rajayoga Power Transcendental Meditation Centre (RPT) was here for the past 15 years. Right now RPT is being bombarded for their scam, and a lot of information about them are being leaked. Well they are not alone in the world of spiritual and religion based scammers, but they seem to be kinda famous among them all.
It was rumoured that the founder or its spiritual master Dato Seri V. Balakrishnan, learnt something called “Silva Method” from the famous magician Balamurugan, who had learnt Silva Method earlier. Silva Method? What is it actually? It is a self guided practice to increase the mind capability to perform some supernatural act. It is related to the alpha level meditation at a frequency between 8 to 12 Hz. You may find more information on Silva Method in Wiki. Some say Balakrishnan learnt tantrism in India, which had become the source of his “powers”. Some say he keeps a magical “creature” with him, which helps him to accomplish something magical. Plus a magic wand…so many stories on how he could perform such extraordinary acts. However, I never witness any extraordinary acts done by him except materialising holy ash (viboothi) from thin air, right after he enter the seminar hall. Some claim that he materialise even laddoos and turmeric along with the viboothi. Read more…
9 comments - What do you think? Posted by
February 28, 2014 at 3:11 am
The victim has lodged a report, and this incident was send by the victim to me so that people are aware of what’s happening. If you have any suggestions on how we could pursue this, put it on the comment section.
I’m a soon to be *****(joining the May 2014 intake) and am just looking for an avenue to tell my story. I am too afraid and ashamed to tell my family and my boyfriend about the incident but I’m not able to forget about it either. I wish someone can do me some justice but I do not want people to know my identity.
I went to JJ Kepong about 2 months back to buy some groceries. After I was done with my shopping I went to the taxi stand to get a taxi to go to Kepong Tesco as I needed to buy some aluminum baking trays which unfortunately, JJ didn’t have. So I got into a taxi and the uncle was kind enough to bring me to Tesco and wait for me outside the building until I am done with my shopping. I asked him to wait because it’s very hard to get a cab around the Kepong Tesco and I would literally have to walk some distance with all my groceries to do so. On my way back home, the uncle chatted away and came off as a very nice man. He told me stories about himself in broken Malay as I politely nodded and smiled my way through. Upon reaching my house, I paid him and thanked him for waiting for me. He patted my thigh and said he was happy to. At that point he did not come off as some pervert; I thought he was just being friendly. I got out of the cab and he drove away and I was prayed that there would be more nice cabbies like him. I never realized how wrong I was about him then.
Do you still remember your teenage years? 13 years old with raging hormones and puppy love problems. Almost everyone has faced that yet will refuse to admit it.
Back in my school days, puppy love was the thing. Usually, most of the guys would go for the prettiest girl. It was a healthy competition among the baby-faced bachelors. But on Fridays, the baby-faced bachelors faced a common threat – paedophiles. These paedophiles are hood-rats who wear a pair of jeans and (most of the time) the ugliest T-shirt in existence. They come with their EX-5 bikes and have the worst hair colour possible. Since they do not understand the concept of shaving and sport the hairiest face, I dub them as Pedobears.
Most of the schoolgirls were crazy about these machas. From then on, you could see 13 to 17 year old girls with a pocket of loose change on the public telephone giggling and blushing and talking about who-knows-what to the pedobears. Selvi, a schoolmate of mine, was a Pedobear victim. There was this one year where we heard that Selvi stopped schooling. We thought she transferred to a different school, which is common. Little did we know, Selvi became a victim of a grizzly pedobear who shagged her and left her. Selvi’s parents knew about the issue after they found out she was bearing Mr.Pedobear’s child.
Another schoolmate became a victim of a pedobear, too. At the time, I used to tell her that she’s going to end up like Selvi. She used to glorify her pedobear boyfriend as a gangster in the whole district. She used to tell how the pedobear ayats her and stuff. And then, one day, the news of her “overnight sensation” spread throughout the local community. Apparently, her video clips were out and the life of another young girl is crushed by a pedobear. This is just two out of many untold stories that happen in many schools and within the Indian community. If you can relate to this issue, then you know it’s something that the people should be concerned about. Read more…
10 comments - What do you think? Posted by
January 26, 2014 at 3:12 pm
I grew up watching several parents boasting around announcing to the whole taman and where ever they go onhow their children has always wanted to be a doctor ever since they were young. May it be a wedding function, temple thiruvizha, family reunion or wherever they go, there’s always an aunty somewhere talking about this:
Girl-ke/Boy-ke chinne pille-le iruntey doctor aganum nu aasai.
These ‘self-announcements’ are done once their children obtained good results for their UPSR/PMR, yes I’m not kidding. When the child managed to get into the science stream, the child is automatically labeled as a doctor by the family without even knowing the child’s real interest/talents and most importantly, the parents are not even aware of the child’s current performance in the class. Once the SPM/STPM results are announced, these are the same parents who either blame/curse the education system/examination paper marking system/ university intake procedure;
Intha varusam nambe pillingeh result eh kavutetanungeh, ellam vote kage tan. Ippo partiya epdi achu nu…
Class le ivanodeh mosama padikeravanunke ellam nalla result tukki kuduterekanungeh, avanungeh aalu.. en magan sonna. Paavingeh..ipdi senjitanungeh…
They would twist and turn the whole ‘self-announcement’ according to the result/courses offered. Read more…
8 comments - What do you think? Posted by
December 26, 2013 at 6:26 am
I just feel that the topic you currently shared Dark Skinned Meenachis is so close to my heart that I would like to say something, my share of it. I am your typical south indian girl, except fairer than most of them. I can tell you, it has never been a bed of roses for me. I’ve been mentally, emotionally, and sexually harassed due to my fair skin colour.
I’ve worked in a few call centres previously for short periods during my semester breaks and it was one of my toughest times. When you’re fair, every freakin attention falls on you. I walk into my office, you have men staring at you from top to bottom and girls giving you that cold stares. I was always pushed, never accepted, no Indian girl was ready to accept me as a friend. There was one time, I was rushing to work so I took a cab to the LRT station. As I got down the cab, I noticed there was an Indian man standing at the walkway towards the LRT station staring at me and I had to pass him.
He was very tall, very big, and very dark. He had a surgical mask on him. I thought to myself “just walk pass him quickly”. I was wearing a pink salwar kameez that day. So I paid the driver and started walking. When I passed by behind him, all of a sudden, he turned around, removed his mask, looks at me and goes like “unekke enna rombhe veleiya irekumne nenepa?” and he spat on my face. Yes, literally spat on my face! I was 19 and a very naive person then. I remember an Indonesian guy pushed that man and shouted at him for spitting on me. I just ran. Ran away from there, up to the LRT station’s washroom. I saw myself in the mirror, his spit and plegm covered my forehead and eyebrows.
I shivered, cried and cried and cried. I just want to tell you, writing this piece of memory now took me lots of courage cause I imagined that moment and it was a nightmare. I wanted to be normal, just like every other girl. I hated being fair. I wanted to burn under the sun and be dark!
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