A long FabIndia kurta, a stole, mismatched I think. A pair of jeans, the one that mom thinks are always dirty! I tell you this before even a tiny seed of wonder sprouts in your mind whether how I was dressed had anything to do with it. Now that’s “decent” enough, you would agree. Much as I abhor people thinking a girl’s dress might have had something to do with her being abused or eve-teased, I want to clear that point. Not for my satisfaction, but for distorted society’s.

 

Anyways, there I was, dressed as above, walking along a perfectly lit stretch of road, a perfectly crowded one too at that. Agreed that it was late evening, but even in a city like Bangalore that goes to bed by 11.30 pm, it was not too late. I was walking by and this middle-aged man came out of nowhere and almost brushed by, loudly saying something downright vulgar.

 Three years now of living in a city has taught me plenty about men—the middle-aged ones are by far the sleaziest, if you ask me—and their motives. I have learnt to anticipate their moves and rarely these days are men able to ‘accidentally’ brush against me. My best friend once tried to teach me some basic aikido; I wasn’t too keen a learner. I am yet, thankfully, to be in a situation where I might regret not learning some clever moves.

 I digress here. That incident I was telling you all about. I rarely lose my temper on the road, never so when I am alone. But that evening, it was one of those ‘that’s it’ moments and I snapped back. Three years in the city has also taught me plenty of fancy swear words too! Some people walking nearby turned to look at me; that sleazy man had slipped into the shadows once again. The people around me soon walked on. And sadly, so did I.

 If you don’t belong to the species that travels in a chauffeur-driven car all day long, you would have been through something similar on the streets or in buses or while waiting for an auto. Even if you were being driven around, you would have had creepy characters leer at you or mutter something barely audible at you in malls or hotels or wherever. The worst? When they pass by inches from you, try and touch and let out a loud ‘ah!’ It makes my skin crawl just to write this. I mean, it doesn’t matter if you are rich or not rich, there really isn’t a way you could have escaped harassment on the streets.

 There are those that suggestively run their tongue over their lips, the smacking sound that follows…I’m not some food boss! The winks, the cat calls, the once over you get, mentally stripping you…there really isn’t an end to it.

 About that incident I was telling you all about earlier. Did I do anything about it? No. What could I have done really? Maybe I could have screamed a bit and people would have gathered. That sleazy man would have, in all probability, run off and considering the city’s reckless traffic, who would have bothered chasing him? Even if he were to be caught, people would have cursed him a bit, at the most beaten him a little. I am sure even if a policeman were to appear on the scene, he would ask me why I would bother booking a case and ‘advice’ me to let him go.

 More so, would I, in the first place, have raised an alarm? No, simply no. But I feel I have to justify myself here, even if each of you reading this would be saying a reluctant no too.

 Where I come from, all this would never have happened. It is one of those places where everyone knows everyone else and their second cousins too. But Bangalore, now that’s different. I don’t know my neighbour and in a city that is swelling beyond its own good, someone brushing past you seems too insignificant. Would I stop whatever I was doing and shout for help and create a scene and see that the culprit is thoroughly embarrassed, if not suitably punished? Considering how frequently it can happen to someone who commutes to work and back, who would take the trouble? I mean, realistically?

 Justifying myself again, I must tell you, such behaviour is not acceptable. It’s disgusting and each time, a little bit of your dignity is lost. But would it be possible to scream and shout every time? It’s just one of those things you “have to endure, because you are a girl”.

 How much I hate that phrase! There is something very demeaning about it, telling you that you can’t do something “because you are a girl”. As a teenager, I always made mom give me another reason if I was not to do something; never that phrase. But then you grow up and you realize that maybe mom was right. As much as we are brought up to be independent and more equal with men than our mothers were, there are still things we endure. Just because there really isn’t much you can do about it. You can yell or curse back, but again, it is almost a direct invitation for another attack, possibly a deadlier one, even physical maybe. So we let it pass. Only because there isn’t anything else you can do about it.

 Perhaps a few generations from now, it will no longer be the case. Perhaps men will be thoroughly sensitized and women will be able to walk down a road without men mentally stripping her. Perhaps there will be some way to totally stop harassment on the streets.

 Perhaps I am thinking of that place called Utopia.

Pic Source: Deviant Art – Kadoo

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The Author
 Based in Bangalore, 20-something Dharithri fancies herself a writer. Besides ranting on any issue that catches her fancy, in whatever means she can, she loves to read and write--a lot. She also constantly travels in her head and often otherwise, dreams of turning a farmer someday and living the outdoors-y life. She can rarely resist the pull of a paper and a pen, mainly because writing is cheaper than therapy! Dharithri is, beneath her layers of complexity, just someone who likes expressing what the various voices in her head tell her.

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