Whenever I
feel the need to blog here, I have to find that perfect moment when I am angry
but not absolutely overwhelmed by anger. But today, as we approach our
Independence Day in a few hours, I am f***ing angry, just knowing how
unbelievably false this day is. The one day when we paint our profile pictures
with tricolours and finally come around to respect our country and celebrate
it. This year, maybe we should all go out and find the first house party and
beat everyone up. We should find a young girl on the road, strip her naked and
try to grab every inch of her skin; for I am led to believe, that is what
Indian culture is.
This year
alone, I have had three experiences that have shattered my faith in the fact
that I am safe on the roads of this country. Let me begin by the most common
one. I was at a restaurant with some friends at about 12:30 am, buying dinner
after attending a concert. As I walked towards the food counter, a middle-aged
man in a lungi grabbed my crotch as he went past me. I turned around and yelled
“Bastard!” and continued towards my friends. It then struck me that that wasn’t
punishment enough and that this man would probably go grab some other woman
again. So I went on to find him.
When I
found him, I asked him “Why did you touch me?” His friend began to defend him
as the man in the lungi stood sheepishly behind. I continued to explain that he
had no right to touch me and demanded an apology if nothing more. At this
point, two of my male friends had joined me and a crowd had gathered. My
friends began to shout at them and I explained that I would like to deal with
it by myself. Following the apology I received, as I walked away, another man
in the crowd exclaimed, “Abey! She just wanted to make a scene!” So, I turned
around and asked him if he would have made a scene had I been his sister. At
this point, the man happened to push one of my male friends and the next thing
I know they are about to get into a fist fight and I am being escorted to
safety by a security guard. The man had a knife. While, my friends got away
safe, he had absolutely no qualms about bringing the knife out to protect his
ego. A knife for his ego and a sleazy comment for my dignity.
As
we proceeded to leave the restaurant, I sat by the parking lot just trying to
wonder how me demanding my right to safety turned into an ego clash between two
men. While many of my friends came and applauded me for having “balls”, one
went on to tell me that I didn’t need to be such a drama queen. To date, I try
to understand the rationale behind that statement. Somebody, please explain to
me how telling a man that he had no right to grab my private parts without
consent is being a drama queen.
A few
months ago, we parked our bike outside UB City at 10:15 pm. After returning in
barely fifteen minutes, we found that the bike was punctured. We wheeled it
down the road and walked back to UB City where our friends offered to take us
back home in their car. As we waited for them, five men on three bikes went
past us, made a few comments and parked ahead. We crossed over to the security
cabin and waited for our friends, quickly realising that those men were going
to follow us. As soon as our friends arrived and we got in to the car, the men
got on their bikes and started them. They followed us for a while we slowed
down to let one of them overtake us and noted down the number of the bike. A
friend in the car couldn’t control her anger any longer and hit the man on the
bike with the car door, yelling at him. He scooted and minutes later, so did we
towards the closest police station, just in case.
The
following day, we took the bike to a puncture shop and asked to see the tube.
There were two clean slashes on the tube and they had appeared to have been
made with a small blade. The men had punctured our bike in an attempt to
handicap us and probably then attack us. After filing a police complaint
against the bike, we went on to ask a few people around the parking lot if they
had seen anything. They hadn’t seen anything but were happy to provide us with
free advice “That is why you should not go out after 9, madam!”
If you ask
a woman how many times she’s been felt up at all hours, wearing all kinds of
clothes, the answer will be countless. We can’t even count the number of times
we ‘have been subjected to street sexual harassment; it’s an experience that we
have been “warming” ourselves up to since we were 12. I have been angry for
years about being a target simply because I’m a woman. But recently, after
watching the news, watching the Guwahati incident, watching the Hindu Activists
thrash innocent men and women in a home stay, reading about the deaths of a
number of women who are targeted simply because they live their lives
differently, I am scared. And I don’t want to be scared because then they get
the victory.
The reason
I started this blog was to explore what Indian culture really is – the many deep
trenches in our society that we hang on to for the sake of tradition? Or is it
the way ahead? At this point, I don’t see a way ahead. Unless, everybody stands
up against street sexual harassment and moral policing. Unless, women educate
their sons and daughters that sexual harassment of ANY kind is an absolute
wrong. Unless, the media stops running after the story and calls the police
instead.
I mentioned
three experiences and illustrated only two. My third experience is every day.
Every day, I look at people on the streets and everybody looks like the Hindu
Activist, like the moral police and I won’t deny that I am scared. But, I am
not completely broken. I will NOT change my lifestyle, my choices and give up
my freedom. I know today, that when I walk out of my house, my dignity is a
target. My safety is compromised. While all of my posts on this blog end on a
positive note, sadly today is not the case. How am I going to celebrate this
special day? By going and buying myself a can of pepper spray. That, my
friends, is how I am going to celebrate Indian Culture. Pepper spray. Who
would’ve thought! Happy Independence Day.
