Strong women, really?

My new workplace although cordial and interesting and at times fun (in case the boss is reading :P) is located in a terrible area. My hopes of beautiful big glass covered concrete structures, spanky canteens with vending machines and exhaustive menus, parking lots full of shiny expensive cars, rubbing shoulders with suited booted people and dreams of wearing smart heels to work came crashing around me the day I went for the interview. Being the wise (and tolerant) girl that I am, I concentrated on the things that mattered and I liked them.

It has been a month now but still the worst part of my day is going to and coming back from work. Today, after exiting the office premises I was walking down the road looking for an auto, with my eyes on the road watching out for pits, cow- shit, stones, dogs, banana or egg peels which could sprain or fracture me or worse, when a white car came to a halt a foot away from my feet. I looked up expecting (and hoping for) someone known thoughtfully offering me a ride. Instead a strange man, not much older than my father, with bloodshot eyes and pan masala  in his mouth was behind the wheel. As my eyes met his he shut his one eye forcefully, which I realized was a very crude attempt at winking. He then jerked his head to the left; an unmistakable gesture which meant “chalti – kya”. I was filled with disgust and a strong need of hurling something at that @$$#0[& shook me. I clenched my fists and the gritting of my teeth became painfully audible. I forced myself to look away and staked off trying hard to suppress the waves of anger which hit me afresh each time man in the white car blew the horn while driving slowly beside me. After a few failed attempts of catching my attention, he sped away. I took a couple of deep breaths (they always work for me). Almost instantly the rage and hatred were replaced by an even worse sensation. Fear. Suddenly, I was sharply aware of my surroundings. 

My heart was beating about a frenzy in the ribcage. I eyed every passing vehicle suspiciously, took unnecessary detours to avoid doubtful looking men. Just a couple of minutes had gone by when a motorbike overtook me, slowed down and then stopped at the side of the road. I was surprised at my own reaction when skipping the anger my mind fast – forwarded to the fear stage. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I had goose-bumps all over. My breathing was ragged, eyes wide and throat dry. I realized I had stopped walking and was staring at the man while clutching my bag protectively to my chest. The man was staring back. Ten seconds later a woman crossed the road, both the men and the woman sat on the bike and it zoomed away. Feeling utterly stupid I hailed the auto and began counting my breaths to calm myself.

If it sounds too dramatic, then imagine going through this torture every other day. And no, I am not complaining about the area around my office. It happens everywhere. From the slum areas to the poshest localities, most independent, strong willed women can’t help feeling vulnerable in such situations. Sadly, there is nothing which can be done to change how we feel about it: angry, disgusted, fearful; unless the lechers start feeling shame and respect for women.

K