You came to me at a point in my life when I was already too broken, but you had a soft spot for broken souls, didn’t you tell me? That first night, when you’d ‘discovered’ my ‘writing’ on Instagram, we spoke for hours. I thought we connected, and I’d been longing for a soulful connection ever since my heart had still been intact. So I opened up to you, slowly, gradually over many spontaneous meetings, and extremely poetic conversations. I wouldn’t lie when I say the first few moments didn’t feel magical. When you shared your story with me, and as did I. The silence was still comforting and there was an innocence to our bond – we used to hold hands for so long. Maybe, I idealised you into a someone who was completely different from the real version. Or maybe for that brief moment, you were really being genuine. I don’t know. It’s tough to say now. The memory of our first kiss is vague. But I remember the feeling, and don’t you claim to be all about that too? You said you hadn’t felt so strongly for someone in a long time and how could I not believe you – you seemed like a dream come true of sorts. You were that one person I unraveled my wounded soul to, you were a place of trust.
And then we had Scotland. Do you remember what you’d told me before we left? That you wouldn’t even touch me if I was uncomfortable, that you respect me too much and you care. Cut to the first night in that bedroom, you were already on top of me. I said no. You apologised and admitted to the fact that it’s hard to control the urges around me. Again, brownie points for making me feel special. Then you tried again, I said no, again. It wounded your ego and you faced away from me in the far corner of the bed, making me feel like shit, stained in guilt, extremely uncomfortable. Somehow, I was convinced, that I was being unfair by not wanting to have sex with you, that if I didn’t put out, then I was ruining our ‘special connection’ somehow. That despite your affirmations earlier, you couldn’t stick to your own words, didn’t occur to me. That you knew my story and yet didn’t care about me enough to acknowledge my unsettling feelings, didn’t occur to me. All that haunted me was the fact that I was ruining our little getaway, so I finally gave in.
Now I know, you will be extremely hurt by my explicit descriptions, Chintan, but this evening, I’ve read around 3 complaints of assaults against you. I know there are several more brewing. And none of them have been as extreme as mine – of course, not to take away from the deep inflictions they’ve had on those victims. I empathise with them, more so because they brought it to light for me, that everything that went down between us, that the way you handled things with me was anything but okay. I’m grateful to them for giving me the courage to firstly, process and then to voice my own story. So why shouldn’t I speak up? And why shouldn’t you finally listen?
Please don’t stop here. Read further, read until the very end until you flinch and you can’t live with yourself.
Once I agreed (read: gave in), you bounced back from your sleepy, pouty state almost immediately, like you knew this would happen, for who could resist your charm, eh? Even in the spur of the moment, I urged you to put on a condom and you pled to be inside of me, unprotected. I refused and you reluctantly wore it, but you lost your boner. I knew you’d fucked way too many women, unprotected, free-flowing, in the moment and I was disgusted. But I also liked you too much. You came and I was somehow, covered in shame.
After that, each time we got physical, in the name of being animalistic, you bit me. My entire back. Hard. And you laughed in the morning at those bruises. “I did that?” Hahahaha. My arm had a bruise the size of a face, it didn’t fade for a couple of weeks. It was painful and I called you out on it. Told you multiple times how uncomfortable it was. You did what you do best, with your manipulative charm, told me how you’d only ever done it with your ex wife. Made me feel special yet again. I liked you more by now. So my mind stayed oblivious to the obvious. You bit me again, soon after. And again. And I was uncomfortable every time. Each time, I reminded, you’d pretend you’d forgotten but the truth was – is, that you’ve a problem. It was an impulse and after a couple of minutes, you’d stop listening to me at all. Your body weight on top, I couldn’t even push you away. I’d hit you and you’d bite harder and laugh. You’re like a sexual predator. I told you that when I began to develop feelings for you, and upon excavating you further, found out that you were developing ‘connections’ (read: sleeping around) with many other women whilst still seeing me. I wasn’t okay with that. And did you apologise for your twisted mind and for putting me through this? No. You called me stupid for not letting us just be. You made me feel like less of a person just because I believed in a more traditional approach to romance. Like I was a prude. I was done with you in that precise moment.
You made me believe that after your divorce was finalised, we’d officially be dating. I trusted you. You asked me to keep you away from social media and any discussions until then. I happily complied. And then watched you ghost me, make me feel like shit yet again, for not bouncing back from depression on a pace that you’d have liked. We stopped speaking, and then I started seeing someone else. Like a kid dying for attention, you were needy for me again. I drew a line of friendship and you complied or at least pretended to, until we met, then it’d all go out the window, and your ‘innocent cuddling’ would turn into groping and grinding almost immediately. I used to push you away, and you’d beg for a kiss. I’d pity you.
I’m glad I was so broken, that I couldn’t take your toxicity any further and ended things when I did. But you were the one who got me into TTT, long before we even were a thing. For that, I’ve always been grateful and so rightfully, it made sense that I wanted to keep things amicable and not awkward between us. So maybe, I pretended it was all normal. Maybe that is what animalistic meant. So you sleeping around with multiple women in multiple cities and calling them connections was justified in some twisted world I didn’t want to be a part of. I normalised it all.
The thing is, Chintan, my trauma was bigger than this. But you had to share that story with your best friend too, didn’t you? I was filled with rage but I forgave you anyway. Because you. I cared about you. Because you were there at my rock bottom, when I was filled with self-loathing and destructive tendencies. You made me feel better. You made me laugh. And my trauma was still bigger than any of this. Also, on a level I felt I was accustomed to pain, that I deserved it. And you took advantage of that. The final verdict? You made me hate myself all the more. But oh no, you’re a Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes and this is all an elaborate misunderstanding, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ll find shoulders to cry upon and come out, unscathed, a victim, somehow. Because you’re a better manipulator than a writer. That, we can all agree upon.
You, Chintan, have a problem. You’re a predator who feasts on the weakest link. That is spiteful beyond comparison. You have a sex problem. You’re a commitment-phobe, who exploits his power and charisma by attracting gullible, naive, doe-eyed girls who for-god’s-sake look up to you and admire you for the writer that you are, and what do you do? You leave them feeling like shit.
This, my friend, is called gaslighting. For those who don’t know the meaning, it means to manipulate someone psychologically into doubting themselves and questioning their own sanity. Also grooming. And towards the end, it was negging as well. You tried to break me then fix me then break me again. This kind of an assault is tricky, for the victims don’t even know that it isn’t okay, because they are in a supposedly healthy relationship. The very umbrella of that relationship is assumed by guys to be a consensual sheet and that is not fucking okay. Because then you’re doused in self-loathing and shame and guilt, you can’t trust or love the way you’re supposed to.
Chintan, today, I’m ashamed to have cared about you as much as I did, to have been a friend despite holding this knowledge somewhere in my gut, to being a giver yet again, when all you’ve done is taken. I have advised you time and again, to stop fooling around, but of course how can you, when it’s most likely, an addiction? I’m furious with all these realisations! I’m furious with men in power having no decency. I’m furious for anyone who’s suffered the least bit because of the likes of you.
Please seek help. I can no more stand by your side and defend your actions. I was a brilliant writer before TTT even found me, and although I owe a lot to it, I’ll continue to be great without being associated with it. And what kind of a human being am I, if I turn a blind eye to this? It had to be done. You had to be exposed. You’re a monster, and I want nothing to do with you.
To every other girl who looks at him like he’s the fucking moon, steer clear. I’ve been there and it’s just craters really.
– UPDATED –
I’m adding accounts of fellow young college going women who were assaulted by this man, women who’ve found the strength in themselves to come forth anonymously or otherwise.
#MeToo - @shruteechoudhary
See Instagram '#MeToo' highlights from Shrutee Choudhary (@shruteechoudhary)
The link listed above has all the gruesome, enraging, spiteful details that some of you had needed as evidence, because so much for standing with the victims right?
As for you, Chintan, how are you still silent? How is TTT as a community still protecting you, or themselves or both?
It’s day 3 and so far, there have been 14 open complaints and many, silent ones that lie screaming in the folds of my DM. My colleague Gauri and I have projected our energies combined into helping shed more light on it. We seem to be getting support from everyone and now, even Terribly Tiny Tales. The CEO Anuj Gosalia and his wife, Sharanya, have finally spoken up, apologised and addressed the situation. But it doesn’t suffice. I strongly hope they do justice to the victims, now that they are supporting us. Sure, Chintan has stepped down but these heinous sexual acts require legal action. He is a criminal currently being protected by anyone who is by his side.