Where the mind is without fear

blog-a-thon 2006

I've written this blog in support of Blank Noise Project who are fighting a brave fight against street harassment. I might be a little late, but I had to say it, just for the record!

How old was I? I don’t remember, think I was in 7th, so that makes me 13. We had a near accident with a bike - my dad, mom, sis, and I. We were in a car – and a pair of irresponsible guys on the bike, were the cause of it. They swore some foul expletives at us, I think. Dad went out, confronted them and things got messy. The last I remember they hit dad, and he was bleeding somewhere. Someone called the police and the situation got worse. Dad wanted to stay there, to file an FIR - my mom wanted me and my sis to go back home. So, we took a rickshaw and headed home.

I come from a city in Punjab. Rickshaws are a common means of transport there, so it was no big deal. Di and I were both too tired from the day, and worried about mom and dad. It was getting dark and we were almost home. There were noises in the background, of people traveling, here and there - noises almost fading into a blur. Somewhere in the distance, a noise must have grown louder. A bike was behind us, I think, but we didn’t pay much attention to it. Almost a split second later, the bike came side by side with the rickshaw, and out of nowhere, a hand reached out at my chest and pulled my breasts....

It must have hurt and I must have screamed, I don’t remember. What I do remember is that I felt a knot down my stomach somewhere and a strong sense of repulsion down my whole body – repulsion, almost at my own flesh. I wanted to throw up right there, but I didn’t. I wanted to cry right then, but I didn’t. I heard di saying that it was okay. I must have stared at her – because I couldn’t possibly fathom what was it, that was okay? The rest of the evening is sort of blotted out from my memory. All I remember from then, is hot tears rolling down my cheek for almost an hour, in a lonely corner of my bathroom, back home.

It was a day, forgotten in hurry, by others - but it was a day when I had my first 'brush' with reality. Reality, which was to grow only gloomier in the days to come, for little was I to know then, that I would land up in good old Delhi, to pursue my undergraduate education – Delhi, which was indeed the hot spot of this fucking reality. So, a young girl of only 18, I landed up in Delhi – with dreams in my eyes and euphoria down my sleeves, euphoria which was soon to morph into severe nausea....

I stepped into my college life, about 8 years back, and realized that mine too was a campus maybe, like every other. The eve teasing began again, on a light flirtatious note some times – but became out of bounds at others. And then one night, when I was returning back to the hostel from somewhere within the campus, a bunch of guys did the bike trick with me again – you know, zooming besides you, and then coming back straight on, with their headlights shining on your face - something which seems so insipid and dull when you hear about it from someone else– unless ofcourse, the face that is shining behind those bike lights is yours.....

I found my voice, then, in my second year of college life, on that fateful day - and made a promise to myself, to make a difference. I wrote in my college magazine, about that incident, and against many others which the gals on the campus had to silently suffer through, all the time. Needless to say, the article met with a resistance. I heard a lot of sarcasm about it the whole year, but that did not deter me. I realized at that time, how important it was to let people know of their wrongdoings, and not to suffer alone, in silence....

It happened again in the subway, one fine day, when a guy passing by, made some lecherous comments on my busts. I threw the coke that I was carrying in my hands on his face and ran after him – but he escaped by. It happened again, when this middle aged man on a scooter coming from the front, found me on a lone street, gave me a heinous smile, and did something so disgusting, that words fail me when I think about it, even today. That man too rushed away, but his face haunts me till date. It happened again, when my teenage incident repeated, back in my hometown, exactly in the same manner it had happened before. Except that this time around, I shouted and swore, and tried to get a glimpse of that man beneath that helmet on the bike or a fucking number on his number plate. It happened again on a busy railway station, when I was getting late for my train. I asked someone for the train time, and after giving me that, he also gave me a piece of his mind, on how I looked that night. It happened again, in a bus when I found strange hands land on my butt from behind, only to look back and find blank faces staring at me from all sides....

Each one of those incidents stung so bad, and each one of them left a hole wide open in my heart. Slowly and slowly the truth began to sink in. The truth that I lived in an insane world, where I could be violated all the time - in busy market places, on lonely streets, in crowded theatres, or even on everyday bus rides. I lost count of how many times I went through all that shit and much more. Yes, I did come out of it unscathed, except that the wounds that I incurred, were more than a skin deep. But true, I was now a stronger person, in body, mind and soul, than I might have been otherwise. And I left all that hurt, pain and bitterness behind, when I came here, to the US almost four years back. But there are memories unspoken, that haunt me still. And when they do, sometimes the dam breaks loose, and I’m mad again at all those, who almost made me loose my faith in humanity, a long time back. I say, almost because I did not let them. I say almost, because I know that for every grim reality that I faced then, I’ve seen a lovelier hue in my world now. I say almost because for every tear that I cried then, I have laughed heartily so many times now.....

Strangely enough, people are amused when I speak so strongly about this topic, in public anytime. So, why don’t you girls just get over it, they ask? We do, I tell them –come out of it stronger than you would possibly imagine, but that still that does not make you want to forgive or forget even one of such disgusting incidents anytime. Why is physical violation a blasphemy, some ask? What is so sacred about your body that makes it all an unforgivable crime? Nothing, I tell them - just that it is my body and nobody else but me has a right to decide what I want to do with it. I have a right to walk, like you do, on the streets fearlessly– I have a right to live the life that you do, of a carefree existence and I have a right to just be who I am, and not your perception of who I should be.

So, here’s a wish for all those, who are fighting a brave fight against street harassment. Here’s wishing that we find our voices, before they strangle them aside, here’s wishing that we sing our songs, in the melodies that we like and here’s wishing that one day, we walk down the streets of our country with our heads held high....