Forever With Love

Erotophobia is a term coined by several researchers in the late 1970s and early 1980s to describe one pole on the continuum of attitudes and beliefs about sexuality.

Erotophobia is often complex and many sufferers have more than one specific fear. However, it cannot be treated like any other psychological problem. Erotophobia is both special and unique and very personal. Untreated erotophobia can be devastating and may lead sufferers to avoid not only romantic relationships but also other forms of intimate contact which are very common otherwise.

Like any other phobia, erotophobia varies dramatically in both symptoms and severity. It is a very personalized fear, and no two sufferers are likely to experience it the same way. One among the many in the long list of erotophobia is genophobia or coitophobia.

Genophobia is the physical or psychological fear of sexual relations or sexual intercourse in which the person suffering from it may experience the feeling of panic, terror, and dread. Other symptoms are the increased speed of heartbeats, shortness of breathing, trembling or shaking, anxiety, sweating, crying, and avoidance of others. Sometimes the sufferer may feel blackness in the vision at the time of the attack and unconsciousness due to a sudden shot of blood pressure. However, there is no universal cure for genophobia, although many types of research claim that causes for ten out of nine sufferers have something to do with their upbringing. Either they have had abusive parents or had insecure attachments.

I glared at the laptop screen hard as I read and re-read the same paragraph for the tenth time in a day with a futile hope to prolong the sentence any further. Something I had been doing for the past month, yet the words remained unchanged and the content as sophisticated as it could ever be. The Irony!

Why in the hell did I choose this field for my Ph.D.? The question remained a mystery to me, making me let out an animalistic and a very un-ladylike groan. It was the sound that would have made my mother have a cardiac arrest if by any chance she had heard her ‘well mannered’ daughter making it, but thankfully she couldn’t.

Living in a hostel room, far from your family does it to you! It doesn’t only teach you discipline, it makes you independent too. Initially, you would hate sharing your belongings with a stranger that is your roommate. The thought of sharing your private space with them would make you feel disgusted or maybe shudder, but then you would somehow become used to it and then that very stranger would become your family.

One thing that I loved about hostel rooms was the freedom it provides you with. You can do whatever your heart desires in your little kingdom, without any fear of getting rebuked for your ‘inappropriate’ behavior. I know hostels have their code of conduct, but they are considered very liberal and are always set off.

Ha! Ha! Really, who follows those stupid rules like no roaming around after ten? I don't!

From the Ph.D. subject, my mind wanders over to my life and I find myself loving it. I love everything about my life with countless exceptions. From the way, I have been brought up with the freedom of choosing my journey. I love every single second of it. I realize I don’t regret anything. Not even a single matter! I love how I chose to do a Ph.D. when all my relatives were after my marriage, citing I have reached a decent age of twenty-six. I love how my parents supported me when they could have easily taken off the burden from their shoulders by marrying me off to some six-digit salary figure, high-end job personnel.

I mean all they had to do was name it as their responsibility and BOOM! I would have vanished from their home and would be living ‘happily’ with a man who would have claimed himself as my husband. My savior!

But they chose otherwise and here I am in room 201 of hostel Abhishree, located in Chandigarh, Haryana, brainstorming all the facts and figures I have collected through hard work over six months for my research on ‘fear of intimacy.

Yes! The subject is as strange as it sounded, but it is interesting. Imagine suffering from a cause that isn’t expressive by nature, yet is very expressive for human growth and personal enhancement.

For a nanosecond, I wondered; how a sufferer of erotophobia might have felt living with a stranger in a confined room of a hostel? How different have their life had been from ‘normal’ people like us?

Surely, we all have our share of troubles to be worried about, but how different our problems are from those who might be running away from the person they love because either they can’t give what their partner wants or they have thought whatever they have given was enough.

The sound of a door opening and closing brought me out of my thoughts as I stretched my legs a bit and let out a lazy yawn.

'Any progress?' My roommate and best friend since graduation, Neha asked as she squeezed her chunky frame into the room.

'Nope!' was a monosyllable reply I could manage as I shuffled through the piles of papers I had gathered as a source of information while my eyes remained glued past my laptop screen, outside the window on a group of basketball players who were guffawing on something someone among them had said. They are having fun.

Neha gives me a small smile and passes me a packet of food she has sneaked into the hostel against the norms as she makes herself comfortable on the single bed adjacent to my table.

'Why don’t you take help from your guide, Mehek?' She asks as she takes a bite of her Aloo-Tikki while I give her a bored look and helplessly stare at the papers.

'What? I know I am just stating the obvious, but you don’t have any option left. The paedophile has already rejected it two times. Just go and ask him what exactly he wants from you other than getting inside your pants of course? What did he say this time? What is absent in the thesis?'

'He demands some real-life examples.'

'Then give him!'

'As if it is that simple. Sufferers of erotophobia are introverts. They seek isolation. I tried contacting a few, but they wouldn’t even speak to me. How can I write some real-life examples when I have none? I am empty-handed and now empty-headed. I think this winter vacation is going to be a total loss like the past one.' I sigh defeated.

It was tiring to go through the same sheets of paper with a single hope of finding something new that could satisfy that good-for-nothing guide of mine.

'I don’t think I can make it by the end of this year.'

'Tsk! Tsk! don’t lose hope girl. I know you can do it. Haven’t you read the tattoo on Atri’s forearms yet?' Neha asks, nonchalantly. Her voice has a pinch of teasing in it and her eyes twinkled with mischief.

'Which one? He has got his whole body inked.' I mutter making sure the disgust in my voice didn't go unnoticed. Atri is a story from graduation. An unrequited one-sided love story where the lover boy neither gives up nor takes a no for an answer.

Typical!

'It’s a new one and it says, ‘If not now then when, if not you then who.’ I think he has got it for you. I am telling you, girl, he is over the moon in love with you. I have seen it in his eyes. The way he looks at you says it all.' Neha grins widely and giggles when I make a failed attempt to smack her head.

'Ouch girl! Don’t deny. It’s his threats that have got the sick in the head paedophiles to behave.'

Atri Singh Rathore is the younger son of Uday Singh Rathore, one of the business tycoons and brother of an MP. Atri comes from an influential family and doesn't have a care in the world. He treats people like shit except for me and Neha.

An epitome of a rich-spoilt brat.

'Okay, I get it!' I say and go back to my work when Neha asks.

'When was the last time you tried to contact them?' She stares at my pale face in dismay. 'You are over-burdening yourself, Meha.' She let out a disappointed sigh as she keenly observed my every move. Her chubby face radiates with joy when she sees me leaving the stack of papers I had my head stuffed in and shifting my whole attention to her.

'Three months back! My brother introduced me to one of his clients who had it, but the man spoke nothing. For exactly thirty-two minutes we stared at each other in the cafe and then he went off, saying that he had some meeting to attend. I could see he was lying to get away from my questions.'

'Not recently?'

'No.'

'And why?'

'Because I don’t have any more contacts left. Whomever I call either put my number in the blacklist or politely reject my request.' I whine like a child.

'Would you try if you get any? Look I am not sure if this would work out or she would deny it too, but this is the least I can do.' Neha says as she puts her half-eaten burger on the side table and sits erect.

'You have a lead?' I am shocked.

'Yes, I do. I have stolen it. But dare you to tell anyone.' Neha says sheepishly and I almost jump from my table in excitement to tackle her to the ground.

'How? When? I mean what if someone had caught you?'

'Today morning! I went to the library and overheard Mrs Saxena talking to some doctor looking guy. They were talking about some patient who has recently given birth to a baby boy. The doctor guy had said that it was an old case, but the woman never faced any difficulties in her married life after therapies. Then the doc gave a hard disk to Mrs Saxena. I sneaked in her office and had the database printed. I hope this works out and you don’t have to bear this torture for one more year.' Neha whispers. She hands me a file which I assume is the data she has stolen.

'Oh my god, Ladoo! That was a huge risk you have taken. What if someone had caught you? What would you have done then?' I scold her as I put the file back on the bed beside her and fold my hands to my chest.

'Ahan! But no one caught me. I am perfectly fine, healthy and happy.' Neha jump from her seat and took a swirl, making me fall back on the chair.

'Yes, but-'

'No more buts! Now listen to me! I have managed to garb contact details of the patient they were talking about. I called her husband. He manages an auditing company in Delhi. He said that he would be looking forward to welcoming any person from the hospital that has given him his wife. Her case was the exact one you are researching for. An erotophobia!' Neha chirps like a bird as she dances onto the table and flung the file at my face, her round belly bouncing with each step she takes towards me, but she doesn’t mind it.

I caught the file and went through the details while Neha narrated it aloud.

'Mrs Srinidhi Goenka w/o Divirath Goenka.

Age: Twenty-six

Year: 2016

Case: A morbid aversion to sexual desires.

Address: 243, Plodder Plaza, Delhi.'

'This is-'

'Amazing! I know right! Now hurry up, pack your bags. I guess we are celebrating this Christmas in Delhi.' She says as she takes a long swirl, making me chuckle at her childishness. Her long tresses fell past her bosom, but she cares nothing.

And did I say I loved my best friend too?

I flip the file close and turn to my laptop screen. It's time to draft an email.