The Past That Follows

Title: The Past That Follows

The train screeched into Sealdah Station, its whistle cutting through the noise of Kolkata's crowd like a blade. Preeti stepped down, her worn green backpack clutched tightly to her chest. Her heart pounded, her hands trembled. Behind her lay Tinchuley, the peaceful village in Darjeeling with its lush tea gardens and sky-touching pines. Ahead of her, a city full of strangers. She had come here to forget, to start over..... but no one told her that memories travel too......the air was thick with the scent of burning fuel and frying snacks, far from the fresh mountain breeze she was used to. She stood there, disoriented, swallowing the weight of her own silence.... “You can leave the place,” she thought bitterly, “but can you ever leave the pain?”
Preeti had once been full of sunshine and dreams. In Tinchuley, life moved at the pace of a calm river. She loved walking barefoot on the dewy grass, watching clouds roll over the hills, writing poems , making sketches she never shared. And then, she met Raghav. It was at the Gumbadara Viewpoint. They had both come with friends to watch the sun dip behind the Himalayas....

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, standing next to her.

She turned and smiled. "Feels like the sky is blessing the mountains."

"Or the mountains are touching the sky," he replied. They both laughed.

Over the next few months, their paths kept crossing. Raghav was charming, spontaneous, and passionate. He would bring her flowers, write her little notes, take photos of her when she wasn’t looking. One day, while sitting on a bench overlooking the valley, Preeti looked at him and asked,

"Raghav, will you be mine?"

He chuckled. "A girl proposing to me? That’s new."

"I’m serious," she said, blushing.

He smiled, took her hand, and said, "Yes, Preeti. I already was."
That’s how it started. Their meetings turned into long calls. His sudden appearances outside her office made her blush. She started waiting for his texts. He brought her roses, books, her favorite baked momos. He listened to her dreams, held her hand as they crossed streets, and left poems in her inbox. She thought she had finally found someone who saw her not just her face or body, but her soul...One weekend, she agreed to spend time at a resort near Mirik with him. It was cold, foggy, and quiet like the beginning of a fairytale. They watched movies, shared hot tea, and as the evening turned to night...
That night, she sat near the window, legs curled under her....
"Raghav, can we talk?"

He looked up from his phone. "Yeah?"

"I… I feel like we’re going too fast. I feel suffocated sometimes."

He stood up, walked over, and sat beside her. "Suffocated? Why? What did I do now?"

"It’s not just you. It’s everything. I feel like I can’t breathe. You check my messages, question my every move. I love you, but I need space."

"You love me, and you want space? That’s rich," he scoffed.

"Don’t mock me. I’m trying to talk."

He leaned closer, kissing her neck.

"Raghav, please, not now."

"Don’t be so cold, Preeti. We’re together, aren’t we?"

She pushed him away. "I said no. Please."

But he didn’t stop. He pushed her onto the bed.

"Raghav! Stop! You’re scaring me!" she cried, trying to resist.

"You’re mine, Preeti. Stop making a fuss. Don’t act like you don’t want this."

Tears streamed down her face. "I trusted you. Please don’t do this."

He didn’t listen.

When it was over, she curled up under the blanket, shaking. Then she noticed the phone placed on the table, its red light blinking.

"You recorded it?"

He avoided her eyes. "Just a memory. Chill."

"You sick bastard. You violated me!"

He shrugged. "You better not tell anyone. You know what I can do."
But when she broke up with him a week later, the nightmare began. The video was leaked. Sent to her colleagues, her friends, even relatives. Her private trauma became public entertainment. She couldn’t walk into the office without being stared at, whispered about. One colleague sneered, "Is this what you do on your weekends?" Her manager, Mr. Arindam, called her in. "This firm doesn’t need scandal," he said, his tone sharp. "You’ve embarrassed us. We’re letting you go." "But I didn’t..." she tried to speak, her voice breaking. "Don’t argue," he interrupted coldly. "You’re not the victim here."
She was fired!
She went home that evening, shattered. Her parents had already received calls. Her mother didn’t ask for explanations...she slapped her!!
Her mother slapped her across the face and screamed, "Tui jonmabar aagei toke mere phelle bhalo kortam." "I should’ve killed you before you were born!"her mother screamed.... Her father collapsed that night ....he got a severe heart attack. The hospital smelt of medicine and shame. She sat beside his bed, unable to breathe, unable to exist.
No one stood by her. She was forced to resign from her job. Her boss mocked her during meetings. Her friends whispered, laughed, and stared.
Preeti was dying a thousand deaths every day!

So she left.

She left Tinchuley without saying goodbye. Took a train to Kolkata, rented a small flat in Salt Lake, and began giving tuition to school children. The city was unkind. The past followed her like a shadow. No matter how far she ran, it lived inside her. Every time she looked into the mirror, she didn’t see a woman. She saw Betrayal! Violation! Humiliation!... She whispered to herself in the dark, "Am I still me?"
It was on one of those grey afternoons that she wandered into a small counseling center nearby. She didn’t plan to talk, only to sit quietly. But someone noticed her. A woman with kind eyes and a firm voice. "You look like you’ve been carrying silence for too long," she said. Preeti broke down. She told her everything. The pain poured out like a flood finally breaking a dam. That woman was Noyonika who was a counselor and legal activist. She didn’t pity Preeti. She believed her. And that belief was the first drop of healing.

Together, they built a case. It took months. Raghav laughed when he was served with legal notice. "No one will believe you," he smirked during the first hearing. But Preeti stood in court, trembling but tall. Her voice wavered at first, then rose like a storm.
"I said no. I cried. I begged him to stop. But he still did what he wanted. That is not love. That is rape. He recorded me without my consent and used it to destroy me. I lost my job, my father, my dignity. And yet, I’m the one being questioned?"
“I am not the villain. He is. And I will not carry his sin anymore.”
The judge listened....
The courtroom went silent....The judge looked directly at Raghav...and Raghav was sentenced to 8 years in prison under IPC 376 and cyber laws related to revenge porn and non-consensual recording.That day, justice began to breathe again. He was convicted under cyber crime and sexual assault charges. Sentenced to eight years. But Preeti’s sentence had been longer, harsher, silent.
She didn’t stop there. She began speaking in women’s rights seminars. One day, at a national event, someone asked her during a panel,
"Why haven’t you married?"

She stood still for a moment, then smiled. "Because I found the person I was waiting for. It’s me. I’m not incomplete. I don’t need a husband to prove my worth. I needed healing, not rescuing. I needed strength, not sympathy."

“After what happened, I spent years learning to love the woman in the mirror. Her flaws. Her fire. Her resilience. I don’t need to belong to a man to feel whole. If I ever choose a partner, it will be because he brings peace, not because I need rescue.”
She looked at the younger girls in the front row....

“Marriage is not a destination. Healing is. Freedom is. And I have both.”

She looked into the audience, eyes sparkling with tears, "I don’t want a man to fix me. I want to live loudly, proudly, in my own skin. If I ever fall in love again, it will be with someone who respects my fire, not someone who fears it."

That room echoed with applause. Women rose. Some clapped. Some cried. But they all felt one thing which is power. Years passed. Preeti didn’t go back to Tinchuley, but she carried it inside her. She started a legal cell for women survivors of cyber abuse and harassment. She mentored girls, taught them self-defense, helped them file cases, and stood beside them as a witness not just of pain, but of recovery. On her 30th birthday, she stood by the Ganges, holding a copy of her published memoir, “She Rose Anyway.” She watched the sun set in silence. Her past didn’t leave her but it no longer controlled her.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Yes, the past followed me. But I followed strength. And strength always wins."

And then, she walked forward not as a victim, not as someone broken but as a woman reborn!!


Now, Preeti runs her own NGO in Kolkata named"Shabdo – Words for Justice" She helps women find their voice. Their dignity. Their strength.
Because the past does follow you. But now, she walks ahead of it....

To every woman reading this:
You are not your shame.
You are your strength.
Speak, Fight, Rise!

"This is not just one girl's story.... this is every woman who has ever been doubted, blamed, or silenced....this is for the ones who dared to speak, and for those still gathering courage. Feminism is not a war on men it's a battle for equality, dignity, and justice. And it begins when one voice rises and others follow. Be that voice... "
- Dipanjana Banerjee