YPU. A term that starts with one of the lesser-used letters in the English language, and three letters that are seldom used in this configuration. But strung together, they had the power to nearly destroy a life, and deeply damage a career built with two decades of hard work. Why do I write this now? Do I not know that I will be abused and trolled relentlessly once this book is published? Have my family and I not had enough? More than half a million abusive tweets in the week between February 20, 2022 and February 26, 2022. Weren’t those enough? Why do I want to put my loved ones, and myself, through that again?
Also, why now? Why did I not speak up earlier? Infact, I didn’t utter a word on the issue in the last two years. I waited for the ban to be lifted, endured in silence for 732 days. Why? If there was a story to be told, why wait?
I have written many books. Words are my friends. But never have I felt as apprehensive before writing something as now. Why Would I revisit the nightmare? Why do I want to confront that time in my life again? The wrongs heaped on me. Especially now that things are going well for me, and for Revsportz, a company that is no less to me than a child.
As human beings, we are guided by certain principles. Each of us have our own set of values. To be told that you are a bully, that you have threatened a cricketer and intimidated him merely for an interview, when you have not, compels one to set the record straight. My mother, now 74, became severely anxious and depressed, and my wife was harassed and abused on social media. Even if one person reads it, it’s important that I put my story out there. I write this for my family and for myself, knowing that it might well invite another avalanche of vitriol.
Wait. Is this just for Sharmistha, my wife, and Roopa, my mother? What about my 10-year-old daughter, who was eight then, who couldn’t quite comprehend yet possibly knew something was very wrong at home? She wasn’t old enough to comprehend the gravity of the situation—and thank God for that—but could she not sense that her father, a strong and positive person by nature, was all but broken? Could she sense her mother putting on her bravest face, and her grandmother on the verge of a breakdown? Can you imagine the impact on the mind of an eight-year-old?
Mental health, anyone?
So, yes, I had to write this book.
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