In my journey as an Indian man working with recovered memories of fully repressed childhood sexual abuse, it's been absolutely stunning how often I've had to chart a path with very little access to prior examples (either through stories of friends, family or via mass media) of how to chart the path.

In 1 week, I fly out to India to assist at an ISTA L1 training happening in the rape & otherwise capital of the country – New Delhi. It's my very first ISTA to assist in and it is such a meaningful opportunity to help in bringing forth the work that has helped me heal so much without having to rely on substances. I have not been on any psychiatric medication throughout this journey, nor have I embarked on any strong plant medicinal journey since May '22. This is not meant to shame those who do – I was on ADHD medication for a few months in 2019 and did major plant medicinal work in 2021/22. But there is something to be said to be able to cultivate healing pathways that don't necessitate ingestion of strong consciousness altering substances and am grateful that rituals like shamanic breathwork & sacred spot exist and found their way to me.

As is typical for Indian tech immigrants who fly out to India over Christmas/NYE, I'm doing a month long trip instead of just heading there for the ISTA training, to save on flight money.

While sitting with what I feel called to do while I'm in India, Indian pilgrimage spots like Tarapeeth and Varanasi are calling me. When I truly sit with that question though, these pilgrimage spots feel like a distraction from what is truly calling me to India.

Last summer, right after recovering memories of being sodomized by my grandfather's friend in a psilocybin trip at Burning Flipside, I had told my mom on a phone call that I planned to come to India over Navratri (the nine night celebration of the Goddess), kidnap him on day 1, torture him through those nine nights and then burn him on a live stream on the 10th day of Dussehra. Even as I said that out loud, I knew it was a part of me speaking and that the verbal expression was essential for that revenge energy to not be stuck in me. I channeled that revenge energy through torture poetry because I knew in my heart that is always connected to the Buddha, that acting on those revenge instincts was destined to further worsen my own suffering. I'm grateful to have had access to this wisdom both through my deepening into Buddhism from 2017-21 and the manner of recovery of the memory of sodomy where I simultaneously saw him perpetrating the act on my young self and also saw his inner child weeping and crying and trying to get away from what he was doing. It was a powerfully shamanic moment–a moment of seeing the Wholeness of the Perpetrator, instead of the veneer of Evil that obfuscates the Wounding.

Learning how to allow expression of the Darkest parts of me while also Witnessing them as my Self has helped me see them clearer and clearer. The clarity reached a point of crescendo while I was seated on the toilet a month ago and connecting to my fears of being alone forever, when I saw this part inside me smile while all of me was dejected. He took pleasure in my suffering. I was able to look at him in that instant and say "No, I don't want to suffer alone" and he gleefully accepted.

That was the moment of discovery of the UB – being in my whole Self and feeling dejection and noticing his pleasure. A split experience in my psyche where I knew what was me and what wasn't me.

I'm glad I did not act on any of my revenge instincts. I continue to be glad to stem all tendencies to act out of spite towards other human beings. In the littlest ways. Like in setting up "boundaries" – which I've found is one of the easiest channel to act spitefully towards others. That is the essential delusion of the Abuser. The Abuser always tells you that he is doing something to Protect you. Look at the State of Israel "protecting" its citizens right now. Exercising healthy wariness and practicing keeping my heart open when I am acting from a place of Protection, has been key in not perpetuating my own misery. Act out of the spite of the Protector and be sure that when you connect back to your own Wounding, it'll hurt that much more. Such is the Law of Karma.

And yet here I am. Wanting to approach and have a conversation with him. Just sit with him and breathe with him. Feel into him. Ask him – "why did you do that?". "Do you remember sodomizing me?" "Have you raped other children?" "Were you raped as a child?"

In Marathi, my mother tongue which feels more and more alien to me as I embed myself deeper and deeper into this alien country as a resident alien.

A language in which I hardly know any terminology for trauma-related conversations. I don't even know the actual non-puerile terms for orgasm, masturbation in my own mother tongue. The repression of sexuality in India has removed the words from the language itself.

And I don't know how to have this conversation. How to approach him. What to bring up. How to bring it up. What not to bring up. He is much weaker than me now. I'm physically the strongest I've ever been. He is an old man – in his 70s, 80s even? Perhaps he has dementia. What do I do when he refuses to talk to me? What do I do when he refuses to accept?

I remember sharing about my trauma with my grandmother recently – the wife of my main perpetrator. And her immediate response was – "I have full faith that my husband or his friend would do no such thing". Oh how it hurt to hear that, like a knife plunged deep into my heart. And simultaneously noticing my numbing mechanisms kick into gear so I could continue engaging her. This is a woman who is not aware that young boys are raped. Perhaps barely aware that men have sex with other men. This is a woman who would constantly berate my grandfather when he was alive for being a horrible human – memories that I vividly carry from my own childhood. Yet somehow her belief in how horrible of a person he was stops at the possibility that he could rape kids. This is a woman from a generation of Indian women who have experienced marital rape and probably don't know what good, consensual sex is. Honestly, I did not know what fully somatically consensual sex was till I encountered the sacred spot ritual. Hell, I bet half of you who are reading this have no clue about the fullest extent of what it takes for a body to be so ready and primed and warmed up for erotic exchange that the yoni itself blossoms outwards like a flower and yearns to be penetrated by a lingam. Anything prior to that is somatically non-consensual.

Time and again I'm stunned at how novel this journey has been and continues to be. There is no guide but my Self. And trusting and surrendering to the wisdom of my Self is the hardest work I could ever do.

Torture Poetry–

A post shared by @vighnesh.rege

A post shared by @vighnesh.rege