I didn’t ask for it.

He (and I shall refer to him in variants of that word) is in his 50s. I won’t describe him. I can. But I won’t. Because he knows who he is. He is a rapist. Not the kind of rapist you hear about on the news- kidnapping, molesting, raping, murdering- not those ones. He belongs to the kind of rapists who silently undress you with their eyes, while you talk about the weather. Their eyes tell the stories.

I trusted him once. A fatherly figure kind of trust. The trust, and the generation that I belong to, led me to believe that his “hugs” were fatherly, his “touches” were friendly and his eyes that wandered whenever we spoke were but how most men are anyway. Led me to think he was a half-decent man, a respectable person. He talked with authority, bossing me around, sometimes saying things about others that weren’t appropriate. I accepted him the way he was, for years. I didn’t want to pick up on these signs because I spent a lot of time volunteering at the Blue Cross of India (I have volunteered with them since 2006), where he works, and thought I was overreacting.

Slowly it became more obvious. But I tolerated it. I don’t know why, but I did. I’d snub him every now and then keep him in his place, but he’d tell the world how much he adored me- “like a daughter”. His eyes weren’t the only things wandering these days. His hands were, too. And not just with me, with other girls too. These girls came in regularly to volunteer, at the Blue Cross of India, and he was- with his inappropriate hugs and shoulder and arm grabs and touches- scaring them away.He was very careful. Careful not to cross the line. Careful to get his thrills from these small, frivolous things he would not get framed for. It still made the women uncomfortable.I noticed. So uncomfortable, that some of the men had begun to notice.

Then one day, more than a month ago, he reached the end of the immensely long rope I had given him over the years. It was a matter of a second, when I felt his palm rub over my rear as he walked past me. S saw it. Our eyes made contact, and for a moment they widened in shock, at his boldness. S I would have expected me to turn around in reflex and slap him. But I didn’t. I knew it would be branded as an “accident”, like the men in overcrowded buses who take advantage of and blame the bad driving when then fall on you and touch you inappropriately.

I did the right thing. I went to the authorities.

What happened next, happened so fast, that I didn’t have time to plan my moves properly. I called on the highest authorities of the organisation in their residence, a Sunday evening. I spent close to an hour, baring my concerns to them. They looked shocked and devastated, and promised me that action would be taken. They never said against whom. I should have known then, that I was no longer a victim, but a threat, who might defame the organisation

Within the next couple of days, they conducted an “enquiry”, which involved a board member calling up a few volunteers to find out if they had experienced/witnessed any such incidents (Note that S, the sole witness to my incident remains unquestioned, till date). No one knows what anyone said, but a few days later I received a call from the authorities saying that according to their enquiry, NO ONE else had a problem with him. But still they were going to talk to him because I made a complaint and they needed my permission to use my name to make an accusation in a board meeting they were going to have with him. If I did not give permission to use my name, I was to write an email stating no such incident happened. I thought about it, and gave them permission.

The next day, I received another call from the same authority saying they had conducted the meeting with him, and he denied the accusations completely(well, obviously, no one is going to admit to such a thing), and that he has been warned to stay away from me.

I thanked the authority, glad that things had moved in my favour. Then it came, like a 4 move checkmate.

”In view of the incident and all these problems, I would request you not to come back to the organisation for a while, until we have a system in place for the volunteers. When we are ready, I will call you myself, and let you know that you can come back”

Which, in case you haven’t understood, is bullshit for “Get the hell out of our organisation, trouble maker”

Now why, is such a large and prominent organisation, defending one man; a sexual harasser? /i have my theories, but your guess is as good as mine.

Yes, this is a case of harassment. Sure, not as serious as all the others out there, but as a victim, not only have my problems been not dealt with, but the whole deal has been hushed up with powerful people armed with money and contacts, and the whole case has been turned against me.

Now, it’s pretty simple for me to walk away from all of this. To say, “Screw this. I can’t deal with this shit!” . But what’s the guarantee it won’t happen again to someone else? It will. Which is why I won’t back down.

I will fight.

I’m asking for it now.

This post originally appeared on Little Black Pillows and has been republished with permission.

Image Source: kevbo1983

The post A Battle for Womankind appeared first on Bell Bajao.

There is no such thing as the passive observer when it comes to violence against women. That’s because every woman is a victim when it comes to sexual crime. Whether it is something as minor as the extremely uncomfortable stare of that man standing next to you on the bus or something as earth-shattering as gang rape, with all the eve-teasing, honour-killings, dowry deaths and domestic violence that come in between.

There is no place in the world where women are totally free from the fear of violence and abuse. Admittedly there are places where atrocities are on such a horrific scale that they tend to eclipse the crimes in other societies in the global media; The Democratic Republic of Congo, Chad and Afghanistan being amongst the worst. And while it is undeniable that the women in these countries face crimes at a level that most women over the rest of the world cannot imagine, it is also true that no woman in the world is entirely safe from violence.

What it boils down to is this, we need to put an end to all crimes against women before we can live in a world where we feel completely safe and free form fear. Statistics have proven that several crimes are perpetrated at home. This means that not all homes are a haven of security for women. The streets of most cities have already established themselves as hotbeds of crime. And as we have seen in several cases legislators and protectors of the law are not always as upright as they should be.

Fundamentally it is our duty to fight sexual crime not out of noble humanitarianism but out of a simple need to protect ourselves. The only way that the movement to end crimes against women will be successful is if a huge mass of people come together to give momentum to it.

About the Author: Vani is an electrical engineering student at Manipal Technical University, with a love of literature and opera. She blogs over at OperaTalk.

Image Source: Mr. Matt

The post Anytime, Anywhere appeared first on Bell Bajao.

ब्रेकथ्रू द्वारा यूथ प्रषिक्षण एस0एस0 +2 उच्च विधालय चिलदाग, अनगड़ा, रांची में चल रहा था, जहां फोरम में सभी बच्चे एवं बचिचयां ट्रेनिंग के अंत में बाल विवाह के खिलाफ बढ़-चढ़कर अपने विचार व्यक्त कर रहे थे। उसी दिन एक बच्ची चुपचाप ट्रेनिंग फोरम के बाद अपनी दु:खभरी घटना के बारे में बतलायी कि उसकी षादी 05 मर्इ 2013 को होने जा रही है जबकि वह क्लास 10 की छात्रा है और उसकी उम्र मात्र 14 वर्ष है। साथ ही वह अभी षादी नहीं करना चाहती है। उसने मेरा मोबाइल नंबर लिया और डरी सहमी वहां से चली गयी।

इसके बाद कुछ दिनों के अंतराल पर मेरे मोबाइल पर लड़की और उसके पिताजी दोनों के फोन आये और अलग-अलग बातचीत हुर्इ, जिसमें लड़की असहाय दिखी और पिता षादी के पक्ष में। मैंने बी0डी0ओ0 से संपर्क करने की कोषिष की लेकिन वे अपनी व्यस्तता की वजह से कार्यालय से बाहर थे। मैंने उस क्षेत्र के मुखिया से संपर्क किया तो उन्होने आष्वासन दिया कि वे इस बाल विवाह को नहीं होने देंगे। मुखिया के अनुरोध पर मैंने बात को और आगे नहीं बढ़ाया। दो दिन के बाद मुखिया की अध्यक्षता में लड़की एवं उसके माता-पिता, ग्राम पंचायत समिति सदस्य, लड़की के मौसा एवं फूफा की मौजूदगी और मेरी उपसिथति में तुरुप गांव में लगभग 2 घंटे तक गहन विचार विमर्ष हुआ। विचार विमर्ष के दौरान लड़की के पिता ने बताया कि लड़की का किसी और लड़के के साथ मिलना-जुलना है जो कि उनको समाज में रहते हुए बिलकुल भी मान्य नहीं था और इसी वजह से षादी का निर्णय लिया गया। मैंने व्यक्त किया कि यह को समाधान नहीं है, बलिक आप एक समस्या को सुलझाने के बजाय अनेक समस्याओं को बढ़ावा दे रहे हैं जिससे आपकी लड़की आनेवाले दिनों में घरेलू हिंसा, उत्पीड़न व षारीरिक मानसिक रोगों का षिकार बनने जा रही है। अंतत: षादी न करने का निर्णय लिया गया। निर्णय के बाद लड़की के पिता काफी मायूस दिखे, वहीं लड़की की मां काफी रो रही थी, लड़की मां की हालत पर काफी भावुक दिखी। मैं काफी खुष होकर मुखिया एवं सारे लोगों को धन्यवाद देकर वहांं से प्रस्थान किया और ये खुषी मेरे ऊपर छायी हुर्इ थी कि मैंने एक बाल विवाद को रोक दिया।

05 मर्इ 2013 यानि षादी होनेवाला दिन था, उस दिन मैंने फिर से मुखिया से फोन पर बात किया और संतुष्ट हुआ कि षादी का प्रयास और नहीं किया गया तथा लड़की एवं उसके परिवार वाले लड़की की मां की चिकित्सा एवं सामाजिक लोक लज्जा के कारण कहीं बाहर गये हुए हैं। मैं फिर एक बार यह सोचकर खुष हुआ कि मैंने एक बाल विवाह को होने से रोक लिया।

पुन: एक सप्ताह बाद लड़की की आनेवाली जिंदगी को उज्जवल बनाने के लिए उनके स्कूल में वापसी के उददेष्य से उसके पिता को फोन किया तो मेरे पैरों तले जमीन ही खिसक गयी ……………। पता चला कि 05 मर्इ 2013 को ही लड़की की षादी चुपचाप समाज से बाहर कहीं दूर जाकर कर दिया गया। मैं तो एकदम सन्न रह गया उनकी बातों को सुनकर। मेरे काफी प्रयासों के बावजूद एक बाल विवाह नहीं रुक पाया। यही सच है कि अब मनीषा की षादी हो चुकी है।

अगली बार मेरा प्रयास और दृढ़ निष्चय के साथ होगा और सबको साथ लेकर होगा।

Image Source: Too Young To Wed

The post मनीषा की सच्ची घटना (नाम परिवर्तित) appeared first on Bell Bajao.

A body of love. A body so perfect. Her skin so soft. Her hair so fluid. Her eyes so lucid. Her lips so warm. Her fingers trembling. Her face emotionless. A body scarred. A face wounded. A mind numb. A heart crushed. A temple destroyed. Cold. Broken. Naked. Numb. Dead. She. She, in the mirror.

This post was written by Neha Kapoor and originally appeared on her blog Serendipity

Image Source: ihave3kids

The post She, in the mirror appeared first on Bell Bajao.

गया शहर एक बहुत ही भीड़-भाड़ से भरा शहर है जहां लोगो के पास समय तो है लेकिन खड़े होने की जगह नहीं | यहाँ के लोग बहुत ही सरल स्वभाव के हैं, बोली में एक अलग सी मिठास और सरलता की खुशबू महकती है | सुबह लिट्टी-चोखे से सजे ठेले अपनी ओर खींचते हूए लगते हैं, तो हम कैसे बच सकते थे तो रूक गए और दो लिट्टी की दरकार लगाई तो उधर से आवाज़ आई, “कइसे खइबा बाबू, बना के देई के अइसे ही खइबू ” थोड़ा तो हम घबराए फिर हिम्मत करके ऐसे ही देने को कहा तो एक पत्ते पर दो लिट्टी और दूसरे पर चोखा सामने आ गया | हमने ईश्वर को याद करके पहला निवाला लिया तब पता चला चोखे में तो एटम बम का बारूद मिला था जो मुंह में जाते ही फट सा गया, लेकिन जो मज़ा हमारी जीभ ने लिए वो बयां नहीं किया जा सकता | मेरी एक आदत है जिस पर हम बहुत यकीन भी करते हैं कि अगर आपको किसी शहर को करीब से जानना हो तो निकल जाइए शाम को और सड़क पर लगे खानो का मज़ा लीजिये | तो इसी आदत से मजबूर हम भी निकल पड़े | रास्ते में चलते-चलते एक ठेला दिखा जो सोडे और चीनी के साथ कुछ करामात दिखा रहा था मतलब है शर्बत बना रहा था, प्यास तो लगी ही थी तो हम भी लाईन में लग गए | हमने बड़े ध्यान से देखना शुरू किया ताकि कुछ जादू हम भी कर सकें | पहले चीनी का घोल, बर्फ और सोडा मिलाना उसके बाद नींबू का तड़का लगाकर पेश करना गज़ब का था, उस से भी गज़ब था उस शर्बत की ठंडक और ताज़गी, मज़ा आ गया |
ख़ैर ये बातें तो और भी कभी की जा सकती हैं, असल बात तो अब शुरू करते हैं | हम आप सभी को ये ज़रूर बता दूँ की बिहार का ये ट्रिप हमारा पहला ट्रिप था, और इस ट्रिप के दौरान हमने बहुत कुछ सीखा और देखा | हम सुबह नहा के निकले ही थे कि हमारे फोन ने घनघनाना शुरू कर दिया और हमें समझते देर नहीं लगी कि “अशित”, जो ‘गया’ जिले में ब्रेकथ्रू का काम देख रहे हैं, वही हैं | फोन उठाते ही आवाज़ आई, “ जल्दी आइये हम नीचे वेट कर रहे हैं | हमने जल्दी से कपड़े पहनकर अपना झोला उठाया और निकल पड़े एक नए सफ़र के लिए |
बाईक की पिछली सीट पर बैठ कर शहर की तंग गलियों से होते हूए, कई बाज़ारों की चहल-पहल से होते हूए आ गए ऐसे रास्ते पर जो सीधा था, भीड़- भाड़ नाम की थी और हम अपनी चयनित की ग्राम पंचायत की ओर चल पड़े | हमारी चयनित ग्राम पंचायत शहर से लगभग 50 किमी दूर थी | बाईक रूपी रथ के पीछे बैठ के थोड़ा बोर होने लगे थे तो हमने “अशित” जी से सारथी बनने का आग्रह किया और उनकी हामी मिलते ही उस रथ के सारथी बन उसे दौड़ाने लगे | रास्ता लंबा था लेकिन उबाऊ नहीं था | सुबह के वक़्त तो सूरज से बड़ी अच्छी दोस्ती रहती थी लेकिन जैसे-जैसे समय बढ़ता था सूरज और हमारे रिश्तों में गर्माहट बढ़ती जाती थी ख़ैर शाम होते होते हम मना तो लेते थे लेकिन दूसरे दिन फिर ऐसे ही नखरे उठाने पड़ते थे | सड़क ऐसी थी को दूसरा छोर नहीं दिखता था, दूर-दूर तक सिर्फ हरियाली ही हरियाली, माफ कीजिये हरियाली के नाम पर सिर्फ कुछ कुछ दूरी पर ताड़ के और खजूर के पेड़ ज़रूर दिख जाते थे | इन्ही ताड़ के पेड़ो के आस पास ताड़ के पत्तों से बनी हुई झोपड़ी दिख जाती थी जहाँ लोग ताड़ के रस (ताड़ी) का सेवन करते ज़रूर दिख जाते थे | एक मन तो किया कि रुक जायें और हम भी थोड़ा सा गला तर कर लें लेकिन रथ कि रफ्तार धीमी किए बिना उसे पीछे छोड़ते हूए फर्राटा भरते हूए निकल लिए | करीब 45 मिनट के रोमांचक सफ़र के बाद हमने एक गाँव में रथ के ब्रेक लगाए | गाँव पहुँचकर अशित जी ने सबसे पहले मुखिया जी को फोन घनघनाया और मुखिया जी से सभी के साथ आने के लिए कहा |
कुछ समय बाद नाटक टीम का वाहन भी पधार चुका था | नाटक टीम ने अपना साजो-सामान उतारा और एक बड़े से पेड़ के पास अपना डेरा डाल दिया | नगाड़े और ढ़ोल की आवाज़ के साथ ही लोगो का ध्यान खींचने का काम शुरू हूआ | बीच-बीच में थाली और चम्मच की आवाज़ भी बड़ी अच्छी लग रही थी | इन सभी की जुगालबंदी के साथ ही लोगो की भीड़ दौड़ती हुई नज़र आई | तभी मुखिया जी की गरजती हुई आवाज़ आई, “ ए सरवेसवा, पल्ली ले आवा हो, बिछा द इहाँ और पानीहो ले आवा, दिहा भैया लोगन के |” इतना कहना था के एक लड़का आँधी तूफान की तरह जाकर पल्ली ले आया और सभी महिलाएं उस पर बैठ गई | सभी के बैठने के साथ ही नाटक शुरू हुआ |
कुछ लोग ज़ोर-ज़ोर से आवाज़ लगते हैं, “चंदा-चंदा” और इसी के साथ नाटक शुरू होता है | एक आदमी दौड़ता हुआ आता है और सभी को बधाई देता है की वो पापा बन गया है | एक आदमी और आता है वो उसे भी बधाई देता है और सभी को गाँव में बुलाने के लिए और एक बड़े भोज का इंतेजाम करने की बात कहता है | पूरा परिवार बड़ा ख़ुश होता है और गाना-बजाना भी होता है | इस के बाद दूसरे दृश्य में सूत्रधार आता है और सभी को बताता है कि दो साल बाद उसी घर में एक लड़की का जन्म होता है और सभी दुखी हो जाते हैं और घर में एक मातम का माहौल छा जाता है | फिर पिता अपने लड़के के लिए लंच बॉक्स,बैग और पानी की बोतल लाता है और बेटे का दाखिला करा देता है | कुछ दिन बाद लड़की अपने पिता से स्कूल जाने की बात की बात कहती है तो पिता उसे फ्रॉक, सेंडल जैसी चीजों का लालच देता है लेकिन चंदा नहीं मानती है तो उसका पिता उसे मार कर बैठा देता है और वो रोती रहती है |
अगले दृश्य में लखपतिया( चंदा का भाई ) स्कूल जाता है वो स्कूल में मास्टर को बहुत परेशान करता है , खूब शैतानी करता है, बच्चों से लड़ाई-झगड़ा करता है | मास्टर जब पढ़ा रहे हाते हैं तो सभी सो जाते हैं लेकिन चंदा जो चुपके से कक्षा में आकार बैठी होती वो पढ़ रही होती है,
मास्टर :- छोटा अ से अनार
चंदा :- छोटा अ से अनार
मास्टर साहब चौंक जाते है कि ये लड़की कि आवाज़ कहा से आ गयी वो इधर उधर देखते हैं लेकिन कोई दिखाई नहीं देता है | वो फिर पढ़ाना शुरू करते हैं |
मास्टर :- बड़ा आ से आम
चंदा :- बड़ा आ से आम
मास्टर साहब फिर से चौंक जाते हैं तभी उनकी नज़र सबसे पीछे पड़ती है तो चंदा दिखाई देती है मास्टर साहब पढ़ाते हूए उसके पास जाते हैं और जैसे ही चंदा को पता चलता है वो भाग जाती है |
मास्टर जी चंदा के घर जाकर उसके पिता से बात करते हैं तो चंदा का पिता उन्हे मना कर देता है और शादी करने की बात करता है इस पर मास्टर साहब उसे समझाते हैं की यदि लड़की की शादी कम उम्र में करते हैं तो उसे बहुत सी परेशानी का सामना करना पड़ सकता है जैसे कम उम्र में माँ बनना खतरनाक होता है इससे जान भी जा सकती है, इसी के साथ लड़की के साथ हिंसा भी हो सकती है, ये बात चंदा के बापू को समझ मैं आ जाती है और वो उसकी माँ से उसे स्कूल भेजने की बात करता है |
इसके बाद एक गाना होता है जिसमें जल्दी शादी करने पर होने वाली सज़ा और किस-किस को सज़ा हो सकती है, इसकी जानकारी देता है | एक दिन चंदा से एक लड़का(सोनू) उसकी कॉपी मांगता है और चला जाता है ये बात चंदा भाई को अच्छी नहीं लगती है और वो इसकी शिकायत अपनी माँ से करता है तो चंदा की माँ चंदा को फटकारती है | कुछ समय बाद परीक्षाफल आता है और चंदा का भाई “लखपतिया” सारे विषय में फ़ेल हो जाता है जब कि चंदा अव्वल आती है तो सोनू उससे लड्डू मांगता है चंदा उसे घर पर आकर खाने कि बात कहती है,
“तुम बड़ी होकर क्या बनोगी” सोनू चंदा से पूछता है
“मैं आसमान में उड़ना चाहती हूँ अपने सपनों को जीना चाहती हूँ, अपने परिवार और गाँव के लिए कुछ करना चाहती हूँ ” -चंदा कहती है |
उसका भाई अपने पिता को ये बात बताता है कि चंदा आज फिर लड़के से बात कर रही थी और चंदा का पिता गुस्से में चंदा के ऊपर हाथ उठाता है और शादी तय कर देता है |
शादी के दिन चंदा का पिता उसे लेने आता है तो चंदा शादी करने से मन कर देती हैं तो उसका पिता उसके साथ ज़बरदस्ती करता हैं तो हाथ पकड़ कर खींचता है………
यहीं पर नाटक रुक जाता है तो सूत्रधार आता है और सभी से पूछता है के यहाँ पर कौन गलत कर रहा और किसके साथ कर रहा है | यहीं से नाटक का नया रूप सामने आता है |
“क्या कोई यहाँ पर आकर इसका दूसरा रूप दिखा सकता है” – सूत्रधार
तभी भीड़ मैं से एक हाथ उठता है और मंच पर आता है ये हाथ एक लड़की का होता है सूत्रधार उसे कुछ देर के लिए चंदा बनने के लिए कहता है |
पिता:- “चल चंदा तुझे शादी करनी है”
लड़की:- “नहीं मुझे नहीं करनी है , मुझे पढ़ना है |
पिता:- “अगर नहीं मानोगे तो ज़बरदस्ती करूंगा
लड़की:- “अगर ज़बरदस्ती करोगे तो मैं पुलिस के पास चली जाऊँगी और आपको जेल करवा दूँगी
पिता:- “अपने पिता को जेल करवाएगी
लड़की:- “अगर पिता क्या कोई भी ज़बरदस्ती शादी करेगा तो उसे जेल करवा दूँगी
इस बात के साथ सभी ताली बजने लगती हैं |
वास्तव में ये नाटक समुदाय में, समुदाय के लोगो से सवाल करके उन्ही से जवाब मांगता है | इस नाटक के ज़रिये लोगो को बाल विवाह के ऊपर एक प्रशिक्षण के तौर पर देखा जा सकता है | इस नाटक कि सबसे बड़ी ख़ासियत ये है की ये नाटक देख रहे लोगो को सिखाता भी रहता है और नाटक देख रहे लोगो को पता भी नहीं चलता, ये किसी भी नाटक के लिए बहुत बड़ी बात है कि लोग उस नाटक को देखने के बाद भी उस नाटक को और उसके द्वारा दि गई जानकारी को याद रखते हैं |
शाम होते ही हमने अपने रथ को लात मार के स्टार्ट किया और निकल लिये |
वैसे तो ये सफर बिहार का पहला सफ़र था लेकिन में हर बार जाना चाहूँगा | वहाँ के लोग, उनकी बोली, खाना सब मज़ेदार था | अशित को भी बहुत धन्यवाद जिन्होने इस सफ़र को समझने और लोगो से मिलने में हमारी हर संभव मदद की |

The post एक सफ़र ऐसा भी appeared first on Bell Bajao.

Saturday @ 11 am: An NRI returned to India, Mrs. X: “How does eve teasing scar your daughter or any girl in this country?”
Monday @ 9.30 am: My nanny, Pretty P: “Can I go home early today amma? My father kicked me in the chest and I can barely hold myself up.”
Previous Friday @ noon: Me: “Honey .. I don’t want to go via 12th main road (Bangalore). I hate that signal. Every time the car stops there’s a ton of men just frekkkin staring into the car indecently at me. It’s really indecent. I can’t even imagine what the bikers or girls in the bus go through. I’m not used to this. It’s just as bad at the coffee shop opposite our office, I don’t want to go there.”
All day everyday on the blogosphere: “I’m numb. A 5 yr old?” “How did I believe things would change? I signed so many petitions!”

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This past week has been a rough ride in a completely different part of my world. Yes I’d literally just declared that I was done ranting and that my life was settling down and it is, in some ways. I never imagined myself blogging about anything but just my small little world here in my home, stories of how I’m settling down, stories of how I miss my Californian life, just small updates to my friends .. I never imagined that these following issues would come back into my life. I did not plan for these when I made my choice to return to India. And I blog about them now because I see they affect not just me, but a ton of folks around me. I blog about them because they affect all the women I will never meet or talk to during my lifetime, but wish to. I blog about it because it’s not just news anymore, it’s everyday life. This is an overload of similar endings. Different stories exposing the same underlining points. Some that hit home personally, some others that were so far away and so unreal … I had to read the news over and over again for the news of the 5 yr old to sink in. But it didn’t make me numb with pain, it drove me crazy. I did a few things I would have probably never done in another context, another world. I said things to people I never would have .. in another world. But I feel like a spanking new product from the US now, returning back after a decade, hopping mad with anger at the incidents everyday. My anger is not graceful and I don’t care for grace when I’m angry. I guess I’d forgotten what it felt like around here as a woman. Or even worse maybe I’ve never felt so much anger growing up because I was busy thinking of new strategies to keep myself safe on one hand, and constantly trying to escape from my parents’ safety net on the other. The struggle didn’t end until I left the country. It didn’t matter that we hung out in cliques even back then, a decade or more ago. We’d been cornered and bullied enough times … those scars remained despite the comfort and security of the clique. It took distance and another experience in another world to realize that I could be safe, I could walk the roads at night without looking back 10 times a minute, I could drive anywhere I wanted without morons staring at me indecently at every traffic signal. It took me a decade to get over the fear of the sun setting. I recalled all of this as this week went by and as the voices above on Saturday, Monday and Friday hit me. Hit me like a rock.

Standing in my living room with my 20 yr old nanny, hearing her story of how her dad beat her and her mom up for money, I almost called the police. Pretty P (the nanny) responded saying it was of no use. The entire village had had similar incidents and the women had all called several times with absolutely no response. So I found an organization online and asked her if I could call them. To which her mom replied No. Being one of the few progressive rural women out there in her part of the world (she’d married a Christian, been the sole breadwinner educating 2 of her 3 children through undergrad and not supplying any money to nurture the husband’s drinking and familial issues), she’d already made a plan. “We’re getting him admitted at a rehab nearby where he wouldn’t be allowed to leave until he’s over his addiction – to both drink and beat up the girls in his family”, she claimed. I settled hearing the plan. Funny I felt a deep sense of security in knowing the mom was around nearby. She sounded so strong, pretty P’s mom I mean. I’m still waiting to see the execution part. I teach pretty P English these days, cooking, and a few minutes of typing and surfing the internet. She’ll be independent. She’ll have enough power to kick her father’s behind should she need to. Her confidence, her strength, her courage .. we’re hoping we can focus on each bit and get it all built up. I do shudder though – when I hear her talking about fair and lovely and her wish to be ‘fair’, when I hear her talking about the boys she’d rather get married to than do anything else. She has a ton of work to do .. but so do I and most of us women out there but we’ll be there by her side and she’ll be there by ours. If only I can convince her mom to not marry her away for another 4 years, I might just stand a chance at helping her. Maybe she won’t need to be afraid of her father anymore. Maybe she won’t need my advils anymore. Maybe she won’t think her prince charming will come and all her life’s worries will disappear. Maybe she won’t be itching to go buy her next pack of fair and lovely. That day will come, I tell myself. But for the moment I continue to look for hope. The week has not been good on hope for women.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday – I indulged in an online forum for NRIs, arguing why eve teasing can be scarring to women. One woman insisted on arguing that ‘scarring’ is a very strong word to use and that girl children don’t get emotionally scarred because men stare at them indecently. She and everyone else honestly agreed to all the other points about teaching men to behave, punishment for sexual offenders and the general behavior of men on the roads in India but the effects of those ‘casual teasing’ incidents – they don’t scar, it was declared. I went on a rant. Or should I say rampage?! I pretty much offended half the folks in the forum including the moderator. Not sure if I’ll be allowed back in there. For me, it wasn’t about the fact that they agreed to most of the ongoing issues giving rise to the current sexual crime madness here in India. What they didn’t agree to, is where the key issues actually lie. At one point, most of the men indulging in big crimes against women .. at one point, they were boys, weren’t they? Boys that stared casually, that groped, that whistled or cat called. At all those points, the girls were taught to either hide and be safe, or be brave and ignore them, to not let them get to them. And that is precisely what my friends here detailed. “Oh ignore and walk away. Don’t let it bother you. Stares everyday can’t be crippling” they said. Our boys were never taught to not look at a girl indecently. I mean what kind of a parent from the previous generation had the guts to have that conversation with her son. What would they have said “Don’t look at boobs!!”?!? Unfortunately for me, I don’t think we had enough women or men in the previous generation telling their sons that. They should have. They should have said everything she said here. We should have, as a society. I’m not blaming them parents just yet .. I am just skeptical. Maybe they didn’t know enough. And it pains me to see another woman from my own generation, a highly educated doctor tell me how to keep myself safe and confident, instead of helping me think of how to fix the issue at hand. She went on to give me examples of her own daughter, biking safely to a friend’s 10 mins away during the day and how she’s not emotionally scarred just because a few men stare at her. Many insisted these things happen only to poor girls and not to well off upper middle class NRI returns. Oh the fury! If only they could have seen my face or been at arm’s reach. I gave up at the end of that argument. I had argued that misogyny, patriarchy and the way men are raised here, pretty much sum up 2 things: why men behave the way they do and even worse, why most women think the way they do. Brainwashed, conditioned and ironed out to ignore, to adapt, to adjust, to not be scarred in the name of courage. And here I was hearing the same thing from a fellow woman. Clearly she thinks she’s progressive.

I was accused of digressing with topics such as patriarchy and misogyny which were labeled random issues and not connected to this discussion. Please note these are all educated, upper class Indians exposed to life in ways most Indians are not. So pardon me if I don’t get how someone doesn’t understand that when you’re stared at indecently, even menacingly several times a day, you tend to cower. You wish you could disappear. Suddenly you start getting conscious of yourself. A little too much for your own good. It begins to affect the decisions you make, the choices you make, how you feel about yourself. Before long, you’re dressing up and behaving in ways to avoid any kind of weirdness. And I keep saying this – if it can happen to me, such a confident, loud-mouthed 31 year old, I can’t even imagine what the rest of the girls in our society go through. Daddy A’s contractor, a guy running a consulting firm doing a project for us, doesn’t send the girl that’s been put on the project, alone to our office. He always accompanies her. Apparently she’d requested for the same. A request to never send her alone to any client’s office. That girl can barely find her voice to talk to my husband. She can barely answer him leave alone challenge him. We need contractors and employees that can think for themselves and challenge us, not just take orders to execute them. He might be discontinuing the contract. Her work is pretty decent, he said but it makes me wonder about what she thinks of herself. Why she’s so scared? Or should I say why she’s so scarred?! I’m not suggesting that all shy, not so confident women have been scarred by men (maybe I should). But her attitude combined with her request to be accompanied, makes me wonder if she checks her brain out at the door when entering a client’s office. She’s here to write some code, make some money and move on. Maybe she thinks she’ll never have to go through this when she’s married one day. Maybe she can then just stay at home. Maybe she’ll convince herself that all coding jobs are boring and stupid. (I mean how many Indian women continue to work after they’ve been married or after having kids, when truly wanting to, that is). And be denied the opportunities she could have had, had her love for coding been nurtured in a harassment free environment. Maybe she could focus more on her work than who’s looking at her. And just like her, maybe I won’t hate it when our car stops at each traffic signal. Maybe I won’t be cursing myself for leaving that scarf on the shoe rack before I left home. Maybe I won’t grab daddy A’s hand like crazy when I walk to the small coffee shop opposite our office. Maybe I won’t beg him to go get me a coffee each day without dragging me along from our office .. if those men didn’t stare the way they did. And the part that drives me even more mad – is when they look up at me after realizing I’ve noticed them staring, with such arrogance – with that F(@#(@) question in their eyes – “what can you do?!?!” I can almost hear them say it. And those challenges are always accompanied with a smirk. I know they’re making fun of my anger. They continue to let their eyes wander to just make a point. So there – stares do scar. And by not accepting that they do or finding solutions for this, we’re just continuing to support the criminals, that are our men. Not just the ones that make the headlines, but more importantly, the ones that never make any headline or bring any attention to their everyday crimes. She laid that out in such anger here. I said before, a simple casual indecent stare has the potential to grow into a thirst for what most of them might not even consider a crime. Maybe most of them think it’s their privilege to do stare. We won’t solve any problem until we stop our boys and men from staring. It might be easier than getting them to do dishes or change diapers at home, I personally believe that. Really. And until we get there, there’s no changing the scene for the next generation. Because the boys that do that today and the girls that ignore that today … will be the criminals and victims of tomorrow.

Domestic violence, female infanticide, sexual harassment, lack of women friendly workplaces, staring .. yes even staring – they all grow out of the same root. The one that grows weeds. Weeds that grow without an iota of respect or acknowledgement of women as fellow humans. And I intend to help pluck each one out with a yank so hard, I can feel how it hurt it. Daddy A suggests I start with slapping every moron who stares at my indecently. ‘Be brave’ and I’ll be there by your side when you do it each time. I’m not sure I have the courage for that yet. I’ll start with hiring all women into my company I told him. And yes if you have half a brain, you can tell the difference between an indecent and decent stare. I intend to complain, to argue, to name call, to be known as misbehaving .. I will resort to as many offense and defense strategies in the book. I intend to help the ladies in my life. I’ll be by their side. I also intend to get help from them when I am in their condition. I will feel lost, scared, hurt and more .. but I pledge to do my bit .. for myself, for my daughter, for my nanny, and for the gazillion women out there subject to this every waking moment. Even if it is just a stare. EVEN IF IT IS JUST A FREKKKKKINNNN STARE!!!!

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This post originally appeared on (Indi)blog A rush of blood to the head

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That women feel safe to go about their daily lives without any fear.
That they respect women’s life choices.
That they are more civil to women.

‘they’: The ones who have this shocking bias towards women. Not just the violent. It’s easy to blame it on their background. Come to think of it, most of them are not driven by rational thoughts and when away from their group, they are cowardly and very meek individuals. But what is startling is that even among the well-educated – the lawmakers, law enforcers and elected leaders, this strong prejudice comes to the fore in the statements they make and the actions they take.

There has been a massive outpouring of emotion over dreadful incidents this past few months. It’s clear many people want a better way. But, when would it come? When would it stop?

This post was written by Praveen Rajaretnam and originally appeared on his (Indi)blog Speedy Gonzales Told Me So!

Image Source: Hamed Masoumi

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Where Caste is no bar
Where the Cross of Christ
Or Star of Allah
Neither holds any sway

Where love is without rhyme or reason
Without beauty, without religion
Where the heart fills with the love of one
Without presumption, without expectation

Who bears
The burden of love
And the pain of inadequacy

Who puts blood
Before strife
Before sacrifice

Makes not she, a claim to be a messenger of God
Nor is she the temptress of Satan
Of but mud, fire and water,
Of the same stardust and matter
She is a mother, my mother and may yours too be like her

About the Author: Spandan is an impulsive teenager who is awestruck by the big bang theory. His wild imagination allows him to share his perspectives on the universe through poems and stories.

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I put my hand there trying to feel,
Yes it’s a part of me which is yet to reveal.
Will it be a boy or it will be a girl,
Thinking of this makes me fear.

If it’s a girl, what will be her future?

Will she be free or she will always live in fear?

Oh my lord, look what is going on,

In this unsafe country I don’t want my girl to born.

Yes I wanted a girl cute, pretty and fun,
But after seeing things here I am stun.

Rapes, dowry, eve teasing, and molestation

To these problems I see only one solution.
Things will change only when men will change,
When his upbringing and mentality will change

When he will consider women equal and will respect her

Then only his mother, sister and daughter will also be safer.

Oh dear god please answer my prayer,

I ring the bell in front of you please make this country safer.

This poem was written by Sweta Tiwary and originally appeared on her (Indi)blog Sugarfree Lovers

Image Source: Rjabinnik and Rounien