Outrage and uproar are the order of the day in India now but unfortunately, it’s for all wrong reasons.
Today after reading and hearing so much about the media outrage that the NYE incident at Bengaluru has caused, I look back to the same kind of horror which happened with me.
It was one evening when I along with my boyfriend was returning back from a temple and were strolling down at Maidan just like any romantic adolescent couple, heated with love & lust. After a session of ogling at each other, in the spur of the moment we hid ourselves behind the darkest bushes and started making out impetuously. We were so much lost in ardent desire and body fetish oblivious of our iniquitous darkness that we could not imagine in our wildest dream that something so staggering would take place. Just as our preadult entertaining eroticism was about to end, I was shocked and taken aback when some drunken men accosted us out of nowhere. Clearly evident it was, that we were being watched from behind by these illiterate nasty voyeurs. I was so fumed and embarrassed at the same time and could not understand things out of extreme bewilderment. Never did I imagine that inspire of being with the love of my life, I would be dragged down to an immoral and dissolute piece of shit by the glances of these men. In a place of desolation, we felt so helpless and could not believe such encounter might happen. And while arguing to defend ourselves or convey an apology for being sheepish we could do nothing but run. But to them we were criminals and they had the privilege to punish us as we were being intimate at their cottage lawn. And I was the one who had to pay for it. I was the one who had her breasts pressed by someone who I didn’t know. Got clicked by another. I was so scared, could barely walk, froze for a moment as I never knew what it is beinh manhandled. My boyfriend could do nothing but punch that fellow. I fell on the ground then and there crying and being ashamed of my body, of being a woman, bashing my feminity. I did nothing wrong. But the thought of being objectified mentally punctured me. My boyfriend took me and started running to save our lives from these brutes. Maybe saving me from being raped. It was a lucky day for us that after being chased till some distance they gave up and we got up in a cab till I reached home safely until then. I was crying so much after being touched inappropriately that no consolation worked. It was a lesson learnt, on being a woman. I did not speak about this to anyone till now.
Now I have a question for that half – inch nippled bastard and my readers. How long will we be stereotyping these situations? How long will girls sacrifice their feminity? I think of my plight how I couldn’t scream, paralyzed by a looming sense of fear and self- hatred. How long will girls be blamed for every sexual menace? Who has given these men the right to judge our bodies? Our clothes that they claim to be ‘tempting’ or ‘provoking’?
ls sacrifice our their feminity? I think of my plight how I couldn’t scream, paralyzed by a looming sense of fear and self- hatred. How long will girls be blamed for every sexual menace? Who has given these men the right to judge our bodies? Our clothes that they claim to be ‘tempting’ or ‘provoking’? A woman’s voice is never heard. Ours. Yours..
What about our life choices? Is our freedom then a compromise? A give and take? An answering to male authority? When will we fight? Back.