It was 2018. I was 19 years old—shy, innocent, a typical padhaku baccha who rarely even looked into a girl’s eyes. I was in the second year of college when a childhood friend came to my house and told me that his neighbor was looking for a chemistry tutor for her daughter in Class 12. I used to teach some boys before, but I had never taught a girl. I hesitated, but agreed. For the first month, everything felt normal. I was focused on my teaching. But after a few sessions, she started doing strange things—subtle touches with her bare feet, lingering physical closeness. I ignored it at first, trying to stay professional. When I told my friend about it, he casually said, "Abhay, grab the opportunity. She’s probably hungry." I didn’t understand what he meant then. Then one day, out of nowhere, she looked at me and asked, "Are you gay?" I was stunned. "What? No!" I replied, confused. She giggled and later sent me gay memes on Facebook. I felt humiliated. ...
It was 2018. I was 19 years old—shy, innocent, a typical padhaku baccha who rarely even looked into a girl’s eyes. I was in the second year of college when a childhood friend came to my house and told me that his neighbor was looking for a chemistry tutor for her daughter in Class 12. I used to teach some boys before, but I had never taught a girl. I hesitated, but agreed. For the first month, everything felt normal. I was focused on my teaching. But after a few sessions, she started doing strange things—subtle touches with her bare feet, lingering physical closeness. I ignored it at first, trying to stay professional. When I told my friend about it, he casually said, "Abhay, grab the opportunity. She’s probably hungry." I didn’t understand what he meant then. Then one day, out of nowhere, she looked at me and asked, "Are you gay?" I was stunned. "What? No!" I replied, confused. She giggled and later sent me gay memes on Facebook. I felt humiliated. ...