It was May 2004, I was on M-13, one of the most notorious buses in Delhi. A man was constantly pinching me from behind and I punched him where it hurts the most. He immediately got down.
Posted 5th March 2007 by J
ACTION HERO SUVARNA
My name is Suvarna. I live in Uttar Kannada District.
Four years before I used to work for an NGO. (The job, which I now don’t attend.) I used to travel 30kms a day and in between I used to change my busses at the Karwar bus stand. One day at 9.30am, a young guy aged around 25, well dressed and quite good looking came and sat next to me. He asked me “where will I get down”? I replied saying 10th stop. (Not mentioning the name of the stop) As the moved, the chap started to move closer and closer to me and then sticking at me. For a moment I didn’t bother and just looked at the chap with big eyes. Instead of stopping his unusual behavior, he repeatedly sticked at me. I then requested him to move little further which he did. But the next moment he slowly started to move his hands on my hips moving towards my underarms. It was really disgusting and I didn’t know what to do? I just got up from my seat and called the “bus conductor” very loudly. All the people sitting in the bus just looked at me curiously. As the!
conductor was known to me as I traveled regularly, he came to me asking what’s the matter? I had to explain him shamelessly about the chap’s attitude towards me and what he did. The conductor was good and shouted at the guy. The man instead of admitting his mistake asked the conductor what wrong has he done? The conductor told the man to change his place but he didn’t listen and stubborn. The conductor then immediately stopped the bus dragged the person out of the bus giving his ticket money for the passengers safety.
2nd story
I studied commerce. We had Morning College from 8am to 12.30noon. During my 5 years of college life, many students especially girls who came walking (I was also one of them) by the NH 17 route had to face an awkward situation. The college is situated near NH 17, opposite to which there is a cremation ground. There were lots of bushy trees (I don’t know how does it looks now). There used be a man either in the morning or noon time hiding in the bushes making different kinds of sounds. He was a black coloured, untidy and shabby looking. He used to be undressed sitting on the lowest branch of the tree showing and shaking his ”24 carat gold piece” hanging between his legs and below his abdomen.
Most of the girls were knew about it. But the new comers were unaware of it. One day we learnt that the man came out of the hiding bush and chased a college girl, who was walking alone on the road. The girl half-breathing and frightened told a college boy who happened to be our GS (representative). The news then spread like a wild fire in the campus. The student with other few students informed the professor and went near the bush to catch hold of the man but could not be traced. All the girls in the college were then requested to go in groups and asked the girls to inform them about such incidents if it reoccurred. Luckily it took happened but this time it was a group who informed the GS and we were able to hunt the man along with the few other students and hand it to police. After a few days we came to know that the man was a mentally sick person.
It’s not the first time we see such incidents we hear many a times during marketing molesting cases from people. Also at Cinema halls in a queue the males at the back trying to lift the girl’s skirt or women’s sari and if other people notice they just don’t interfere. It’s really annoying. It all takes place and its just a matter of little courage we should gather. Even today I get scared when I remember these incidents. God help us that’s what I can say. I hope you liked the stories.
Posted 6th March 2007
ACTION HERO SUVI DOGRA
I was crossing the road outside college and a man began to follow me. He brushed past, I tried to ignore. He kept hovering around as I waited for the traffic to slow down, so that I could walk across to college. Seeing my obvious discomfort he seemed to have got encouraged. He came closer stood by me and then tried to touch me. Summoning all my courage I yelled at him at rushed across towards the college gate. He got taken aback. He followed. I quickened my pace, and summoned the guard to chase that ‘man’. But before the either the guard or the man could do anything, I just snatched the guard’s stick and hit the ‘man’ on his chest with all the strength I could gather at that jostling moment. He took flight…The guard kept watching…Aghast maybe!!!
Posted 6th March 2007
ACTION HERO Rebecca J. Manring
When I’m in Kolkata over the winter, I try to take in as many concerts as possible, and one year, during an all-night session of the Dover Lane Music Festival, I stepped outside for some tea, leaving my friends in the auditorium. As I stood in line, someone behind me grabbed my bum, hard. I spun around and began to loudly berate the man standing immediately behind me, about my outrage at this treatment. He stared past me as if I weren’t there, denying that he’d done anything.
A bit later, as I stood drinking my tea (and still a bit shaken), the same man approached me and apologized! This had never happened before, or since. Clearly the guy could not admit his fault in front of his friends, but at least he did acknowledge that he’d done it, and it was wrong.
I’m very glad to see you people bringing so much public attention to this issue. The more we fight back, the more these men will realize that this behaviour is simply not appropriate. Here’s hoping your daughters never have to know what Eve Teasing is!
Posted 6th March 2007
ACTION HERO MELANIE
Numerous are the times when one has had to deal with
lewd behaviour from men. On occasion, you are caught
unawares and can't do anything; at other times you
can.
One such occasion was at a bus stand. As I walked
past a group of boys, I heard them say something about
looking "sexy." On the spur of the moment, I just
turned around and went back to the group and asked who
had said it. Each one kept passing the buck, as I
kept up a tirade of "Don't you have mothers and
sisters at home," type of questions. Finally, they
apologised and I walked away, a little shaken from the
effort but nevertheless happy that I had finally
protested.
On another occasion, in a BMTC bus, a chap with a long
caste mark on his forehead kept falling on me each
time the bus jerked. At first, I gave him the benefit
of the doubt until I realised that the bus was quite
empty and there was ample place for him to stand
elsewhere. Once I was sure of this, I asked the guy
to stand elsewhere. He ignored me and continued until
I raised my voice a little louder so that others in
the bus could hear. When this happened, he moved away
telling me something about "imagining things" and
"unnecessarily troubling decent people". When the bus
reached its final stop, I went up to him and told him
that had he been a decent guy, he would not have come
to stand in the ladies' section in the first place.
For good measure I added, "There is no point in
leaving your house after saying a prayer and applying
'vibhuti' all over your forehead if this is how you
are going to behave on your journey!" He had the
grace to look ashamed and I felt a sense of
satisfaction despite knowing that my comment may have
bordered on the personal.
On several occasions when walking down lonely roads in
the day or at dusk, there have been two and four
wheelers with men at the wheel who have stopped their
vehicles and waited for me to catch up. At times like
this, I make an exaggerated gesture of opening my
purse, taking out pen and paper and then very
deliberately writing down the registration number of
the parked vehicle. The moment the owner realises
what I am up to, he revs up his engine and is off like
a shot! I owe this method of "tackling" to my spouse
who gave me this brilliant idea. I have shared it
with many.
I have also come to the rescue of harassed women/girls
in buses and other public spaces by loudly asking the
guys what they were up to. My experience is that when
you question such behaviour loudly in a public area,
the person is almost always shamed and invariably
tries to run away.
Women should just have the courage to speak up. Those
who harass normally presume that there will be no
opposition or protest.
Keep up the good fight.
Posted 6th March 2007
ACTION HERO AGAIN! ATREYEE DAY!
This took place on a platform last June-in a bustling railway station between Bombay and Poona called Karjat famous for it's vada-pao- an Indian burger- bun with a delicious aloo bonda and green fried chillis optionally sandwiched! No rules really! Like life!
After indecisions and delay I was finally on my way to a forest collective where a bunch of folks were getting ready to do some reforestation work but mostly enjoy the natural beauty without harming it in a place called Vanwadi. From Karjat I had to take a local train to Neral -then a bus to Vaara village by foot.A long journey which I hoped to break by meeting a group coming in from Bombay - I eventually missed them.
In an early morning flurry I had boarded the wrong train from Poona! To my horror I learnt from my elderly retired fellow passenger that the train most probably stopped at Karjat...but MORE possibly at Kalyan! WHAT!? I 'd be stranded in the middle of no where if I had to touch Bombay and travel back the 2 extra hours. It would be late afternoon by the time I'd reach my destination! There'd be no buses plying to the sleepy hamlet.
All the while two boisterous Hindi speaking pan parag chewing young men dressed in fancy gold work and sequins sherwanis listened in.Earliar one of them had tried sitting beside me- changed his mind to go sit on his luggage near the door. I keep running into men who love to sing in public specially when women are within range- I got lucky again! I imagined one to be rather effeminate. The other had a roving eye. By then I had got my sling bag to the corridor near to the exit - this time it was me who was asking for a share of rightful space. No complaints! Why would they complain- I thought - a bit cynically! I didn't look too bad in my faded red kuta or my jeans.
But exteriors are not the best indication of what lies beneath!
They had been listening keenly to my discussion and said, unasked, the train slowed down at Karjat -infact it might stop. I could chance it.
As the station approached there was huge rush - Are you getting off ! Are you staying? Move! Get out of the way! Whew! Insanity for second must have taken hold- I plead guilty.Was it a light headed feeling of wanting to fly- be airborne for one whole second! Who knows!Then someone yelled -it won't stop here! Too late! I saw my baggage flying out in front- and me following- in a split second sprawled on the platform- people running up to where I sat fuzzily.Me dazed smiling foolishly muddy kneed unhurt except an angry red left palm beginning to sweat blood. The light headedness had not left.
Suddenly I saw Rosencrantz and Guildenstern from the train- my sherwani clad friends- one in red the other in gold- besides me."Are you ok, ma'am? We saw you jump You followed us- thinking if they can I can-right!" Smiling at me.There English was not too bad. The mind dwells on such non-essential details at even the worst of times. A faulty machine to depend on ! The jolt had brought a clarity - making me acutely aware how I was a second away from leaving this world for another unknown destination. Heightened awareness follows shock- that's the law, I guess- it's a means of getting high for many who live dangerously on sex , drugs, adventure sports, speed and the traumatic continuum of unhealthy relations.
I shook my head-smiled sheepishly. What do you do they asked me. I had a cloth bag with the logo of an alternate printing house. A journalist? No- I shook my head like a child.I was teaching kids from a Calcutta slum art - I wrote a bit- and now wanted to plant some trees- and that's where I was going. I was a not-quite-post-traumatic 65 kilo baby!
Wow! You do all those things- see! I knew she was a writer!- said RosenC. to GuildenS. Will be a pleasure, Ma'am to help you because you're trying make the world a better place.We'd be helping indirectly, no? I felt moved by their naive faith and admiration- I could be lying after all!-- I felt choked- was I really doing enough? Was I truly as altruistic as that? Is one job really better than another. Especially in this hotly debated subject rediscovered in the last century and rechristened as ecology- there was burgeoning awareness world over- and a self-conscious finikiness among many to be 'seen' or 'heard' at among right groups and people. Using the right nontoxic shampoo or ecofriendly labels are just skimming the surface. The very concept of 'us' and 'them' within the single substratum called homosapiens- be it because of the jokes one cracks or funny accents or whether he puffs Charms or Ecstasy- is unecological.
I guess each one of us are part of the puzzle. And each one had a role. And each one counted. Irrespective of our nine to five jobs.
These two young men were ICICI agents -travelling back from a wedding - on their way to Dombivili.They needed to catch up on sleep and get back to work. They did not have to spend their time leading me across the overbridge or standing in queue. Or their money buying my ticket or buying bandages for my wound. Or crack jokes to put me at ease or lend me their mobile phone to call home or put me in a lady's compartment or wave me good bye like family or old friends do.
If any one can ever get through to a certain Kapil Agarwal at 9323887586. Somehow I never did -it's still in my diary in his hand. Do thank him on my behalf. He probably isn't expecting it though. He didn't seem the sort who catalogued his deeds- specially good deeds.
Posted 7th March 2007
ACTION HERO Reema Banerjee
First Year Junior College. Mumbai Local, 4.23 Fast to Karjat from Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. And a crowded Ladies compartment, overflowing with women, carrying thrice the number it can normally accommodate.
And I, almost hanging out of the door, in preparation for alighting, to walk back home. Perspiring. And trying very hard to ignore men in the next compartment who also hang out of the door, men who whistle, pass lurid comments and call out to seek attention. All advances that we are trained to overlook, no matter how difficult it seems. And I can feel the anger boiling up, it has already been a tough day at college and at work thereafter. I know I can do without the comments.
The trains grinds to a halt and a population tumbles out, like overflowing flood water. I let the crowds push me out and find my feet and without halting to catch my breath, start walking towards the exit.
A shout, the sound of much scuffling and shouting and I turn around to see what happened. I see a man right behind me, who has in all likelihood tried to feel up a woman and the woman, instead of ignoring his advances, grabbed him back. And the women had gathered into a tight knot around them. I was a part of the knot.
They caught hold of him and started slapping him hard. The man cringed and whimpered but the blows came down hard and fast. I joined in, the anger welling up. We punched the man, and I noticed this ghastly feeling running through the crowd of women.
Cruelty.
We were all beating him up, some fifteen women including the victimized woman. But we weren't beating just one man. We were directing all our pent up anger and disgust, all the hatred we had garnered against mankind, all the stalking, feeling up, whistles, nudging, groping...everything avenged in hitting that one man.
By the time the police arrived at the site, the man was bleeding profusely, women were still calling him abusive names, and tales of how he tried to grab the woman and also tried to snatch her purse were afloat. A couple of women were whisked away as witnesses along with the man.
I am quoting an example here because I have noticed several times that women shy away from taking action immediately. I would want women to follow this example, act, protest and I would request other women to not remain silent witnesses. We need to make the male population understand that we are not going to take their crap lying down.
We need to instill an understanding that if they eve-tease, it won't go unnoticed. It will be met with fierce action.
Speak out please. It is because we don't speak out that I noticed the entire frustration being showered on one man. That was cruel, I admit. Don't let womankind slip into such base behaviour. We are not animals. Don't let suppression of any sort force you into becoming one. Stop them before you notice your anger getting out of control.
Posted 7th March 2007 by J
ACTION HERO -( PLS IDENTIFY YOURSELF)
A man asked me 'how much?'.
I tried to walk past quickly.
He asked me a second time. 'How much?'
I took a step forward, then stepped backward, swung around, and threw a punch.
He looked very surprised and asked 'what did I do?'
I didn't stay to explain. That night, my fist was swollen. I'd never seriously hit anyone before.
The next time two times I punched men, it was at railway stations in Bombay. In both instances, I didn't hit out immediately. It was only when they persisted a second or third time, despite my obvious disinterest.
The third time was in Kathmandu, outside a movie hall. The man touched me three times before I finally lost it.
He began by protesting - 'I didn't do anything' - and ended by saying 'sorry, sister'. (Bless his poor sister, if he has one; I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.)
This testimonial is from last year's post- we decided it fits in with stories of fighting back. However, we seem to have lost the name of the person who sent this. if this is you- email us!
thanks
Posted 7th March 2007
ACTION HERO SWAR
My name is Swar. I am almost three years old in Bangalore. I am married. On 5th Feb evening, I put the daal on sim and went to get my usual 1/2 liter milk packet from the neighbourhood's Nandini Milk booth. The woman at the counter told me that there was no stock of it. She had only goodlife packets. I went back home to get some money and asked her to give me two packets and one set curd. The bill came to Rs. 42/- instead of Rs.37/-. I asked her the reason. She said that she was selling the milk at Rs. 14/- (MRP is Rs.12/-) and the curd at Rs.13/- (MRP is Rs.13/-) as the Cauvery Verdict had just been announced and there was tension in the city. I told her that the shop being an authorised retailer of KMF products, she couldn't overcharge her items and I, as a customer, could very well go and complain about it. She confidently told me to go and complain wherever I wanted to but she wouldn't give me the items at MRP. While I was having this argument with her, her husband came from behind and snatched the packets from me. He started screaming at me, pointed to his private parts and called me abusive names. This man was no stranger to me. We have been taking milk from him for the past one and a half years. His behaviour stunned me for a few seconds. I told him to mind his language and behave properly. At that, he hammered abuse after abuse on me. He informed me brazenly that he knew the politicians of the area and even if I called the Police Commissioner also, nothing would happen to him. His assistant at the shop also joined him and abused me for speaking in Hindi. A crowd gathered. A man came up to ask me about the 'galata'. I told him that the milk agent was overcharging and abusing me for refusing to pay him the extra money. At this, the agent took off on another abusive trip. He threatened me that he knew where I stayed and it wouldn't be good for me. The crowd watched. I decided it was no use trying to defend myself alone against the streams of abuses and the only thing I could do was to complain to the police and the KMF. When my husband came home, I told him about the incident. He went to talk to the agent about his misbehaviour. At the shop, he and his assistant manhandled him and threatened him that they would rape his wife (which is me) if she ever was seen in the area. They also told him that I was not a 'woman' but a cheap, loose character. With much arrogance, he also told my husband that he could use his mobile phone to call the Police Commissioner.
We called up the local police station. Two policemen on a cheetah came after 45 mins or so, by which time the agent had closed his shop and gone home. They told us to lodge a complaint at the station. We sat up the whole night, looking up for information on the net on how to go about filing an FIR against harassment and sexual threats to women. We read up on many cases and wrote our FIR. Next morning, we went to the police station. By afternoon, they filed the FIR. With the copy of the FIR and a complaint against overcharging/misbehaviour, I went to KMF. I first met the Marketing Manager who channeled the complaint to the right people. At his office, one his peons informed him that the month before, there had been a similar complaint of misbehaviour about this agent and some people had beaten him up too. After faxing my complaint to the Yelahanka office, I went to meet the Managing Director of KMF. I met two of his secretaries, both women, who advised me that I should pursue my case against this man. They have heard of many complaints against agents' misbehaviours but not a single person has lodged a formal complaint of it. I spoke to the MD for about 15 minutes or so, where he promised me that he would look into the matters. Then I went to the Consumer Forum at Cauvery Bhavan to lodge a consumer complaint against overcharging.
When the police went to take the spot mahajar, the agent went ballistic at them. He threatened them that he knew their Inspector.
Next morning, we were visited by an assistant manager of Nandini Milk. He also came the second time round to advise us to compromise and drop the consumer court case. We did a few rounds of the Police station to follow up on the case. We also took the help of two lawyers from Alternative Law Forum. Few days before the first Consumer Court Hearing, the agent came to the house with a few of his relatives. I wasn't at home. He met my husband and apologised profusely. His relatives claimed that he had some personal problems and due to the tension, misbehaved with me. He would tender a public apology and apologise at the police station also for his misbehaviour. He requested my husband to drop the police case against him. My husband told him that he needed to consult our lawyers and only I could decide whether to drop the case or not, not him. Next day, I was working at home alone. He came. I spoke to him from the window. I was scared to open the door. He asked for my husband, then apologised to me for his misbehaviour. I didn't have anything to tell him, so I closed the window. The third day, he followed us again when we came back from work. He took my husband's hand and requested him to drop the case. We told him that we have spoken to our lawyers and he needed to sign a statement at the police station. He said to me,"Very sorry, very sorry, mera dimaag pata nahin kya ho gaya that..." I still had nothing to say to him.
We are not dropping the consumer court case. My husband and I went for the first hearing. I was apprehensive about it. I had no evidences. The judges listened to me. First, they said that it was quite a bold move for a female consumer to approach the court and they really appreciated the efforts. Second, they admitted my complaint and gave me the next hearing for 26th March where I have to produce witnesses or affidavits.
There are a few women in my neighbourhood who have fought earlier with the same agent over overcharging. I will talk to them again. If not an appearance in court, then at least the affidavit.
Posted 7th March 2007
ACTION HERO A.G
If you want to know what sexual harassment feels like, wear a salwar kameez and travel in a crowded Chennai PTC bus. You can be guarenteed to be groped, poked at, bumped upon, squeezed - in body parts that you don't even have names for in your language. In every rush hour bus, there is a pack of wolves that wait near the exits, their tongues hanging in anticipation, for the females to pass by them.
There are several painful incidents that I was subject to as a naive teenager who didn't know better. I didn't know I could fight back, scream, kick, or even acknowledge it. I only knew to rush home, feeling dirty, sore and violated, and keep the matter deeply buried.
But one time, I actually did something.
It was in the late 90s...I had been to the US and back and somehow that strengthened my self-confidence.
My mom and I were traveling by the PTC. It was past 8pm and the bus was not crowded at all - maybe a dozen passengers in all. We were seated in the ladies section. A little while later, a scruffly dressed wolf in his mid-20s slid into the empty seat behind us. He put his hand on the handle in front of him, pretending to hold on when the bus shook.
Every so often, he would take his index finger and graze my neck and shoulder.
First couple of times, I thought it was unintentional and let it pass. Then the next few times, I turned and glared at him. He pretended to be looking out the window. Then it happened again. This time, I turned right around and faced him.
me: Enna venum? (what do you want?)
...[blank look. feigning innocence]
me: en kayyai vekkarai? (why did you touch me?)
...naana...inga daan kayye vachuttirunden madam. (who? me? my hands are right here , madam(!))
me: en ladies seatla okkandurukke? nee enna pombalaya? anga idam irukkillai? (why are you sitting in the ladies section? are you a woman? isn't there room elsewhere?)
...enga okkanda enna? ( why do you care where I sit?)
me: enda kayye vaikkare?? (why did you put your hand on me?)
...illa madam....naan decent-aana aalu madam (no madam, I am a very decent guy)
(I raised my volume now)
me: nee inga kayye vaikkale? enna paathu sollu...vaikkale? (did you not touch me here? look at me and tell me? did you not?)
...naan onnum pannala madam, summa katthadeenga (I didnt do anything madam, don't shout unnecessarily)
me: poi vera solriya...rascal (you're lying too! rascal!)
...madam, enna romba pesareenga... (madam, you're talking too much)
me: poda. poyi un akka thangacchi kitte sollu nee enna pandrennu. sandoshappaduvaanga (get lost!...go and tell your sisters what you did -they'll be very happy)
[mumble...garble...]
Shortly after that, the bus stopped at the next stop. He got down hurriedly, and walked away without turning back.
That is all it took - a simple confrontation... If only I had known this earlier in my life...What is worse is that not one passenger, not even the bus conductor so much as cared to look in our direction. I have not taken public transportation in Chennai ever since, but for the sake of all the women, I can only hope things have improved.
A.G.
Posted 8th March 2007 by J
ACTION HERO SHVETA
Somehow, we women are expected to take all the pinches, winks and lewd comments in a positive stride! As if it was a bloody privilege. The school of thought here seems to be “IGNORE”. No, I can’t Ignore and I will not. I want to get back to each one of those so called “men” who don’t leave a single chance to harass women and break their neck.
Like all other girls I have had quite a few encounters with such “men”.
I was walking back home with my mom after a shopping spree and a guy standing near by made an obscene gesture and winked at me. I picked up a stone and shouted “What did you just do?” It was a busy market place and loads of people around. He just shrugged his shoulders and said “Beta, maine kuchh nahi kiya” ! Ohhh, How I wanted to kill him, there and then. My mom gave me a long lecture as to how girls should be patient and ignore such things. She said that I made myself look like a fool and people must have had a hearty laugh. But, I wasn’t convinced.
Then one December morning, I took my little pup for a walk. It was quite early and a bit foggy. I didn’t go very far from home. A man passed by on his bicycle, his face covered with a blanket. He stopped at about 10 feet from me. I didn’t look back but could sense him coming towards me. I heard the footsteps louder and faster. I was already shaking, but I turned back to find him trying to grab my neck. I abused him at the top of my voice and tried to grab him. But, he turned back and started running. I ran with all my force abusing him and telling him to stop. He took his cycle and ran away.
I was trembling, I was shaking but I was Proud!
Posted 8th March 2007 by J
BS KESHAV- HIS ACTION HERO
I'm male and got this invite from Supriya, a fellow blogger at sulekha.com. This is something my wife did and made me quite proud of her. Mixed emotions actually. Part of me was wild and wanted to go and do some serious damage to the man involved, but another part of me was happy that she had the gumption to give it back...and she did just that...in spades!
This was in 1999, when we had just shifted to Bangalore. I knew Kannada well, but Vini was just picking it up. We are Tamilians, as a rule it shouldn't be difficult for us, but she had lived in Bombay since birth and so it took a while.
One day, she and my cousin were returning from a movie show. It wasn't too late, just about 6:45 PM or so, but Bangalore - for all it's IT makeover - is still a conservative town. It is not really safe for women after dark o be out alone. Being wintertime, the sun set fast and it was dark by the time they got out of the M G Road traffic. My cousin and Vini, both pretty women in their late twenties were busy chatting about the movie. They were speaking in the rough & tumble argot that passes for Hindi in Bombay. Suddenly, the auto driver took a wrong turning, away from the main road and into a narrow side road. My cousin immediately noticed this, but being mild by nature, didn't question him. She just mentioned this to Vini.
Now Vini is a Bombay girl and acting fast and decisively is kind of an inbred trait I guess. Haven't seen anything like it elsewhere in the country. She asked the guy what was the problem. He didn't reply. She asked again, louder this time. The guy then let loose some choice vulgarities in Kannada, saying that he was going give both of them a good time. He had miscalculated, thinking that both the women were from out of town.
My cousin duly supplied the translation. Vini just went ballistic and screamed at the guy to stop the auto, almost standing up in the process. The Auto, as a vehicle is horribly balanced. The C.G. is way too low and it can topple at any time. Sensing the imbalance, the guy had to stop the auto.
Vini then jumped down and pulling the guy by his collar, dragged him out of the auto. She let him have one tight slap in the face and raked her nails in his face too. She had acted so fast, he was taken by surprise. By this time, a crowd had gathered. Here, my cousin did her bit. She explained to all the people in Kannada that the Auto guy had misbehaved. The crowd then completed the job on the would be molester.
That's one guy who will think ten times before he touches his own wife I guess.
Justice was swift, sure and appropriate.
B.S.Keshav
Posted 8th March 2007 by J
ACTION HERO LONELY CRUSADER
It was a lovely, crisp day in January. We were on this three-week long tour of the South, organized by our college. So far, we had seen Cochin, Periyar, the lovely zoo in Trivandrum, spent a day at Kodaikanal and another at Ooty and many other places in the South. We had made new friends with people who had just been ‘classmates’ before this tour. That also included boys. The boys were happy with their new ‘girlfriends’ and eager to show themselves off, whenever an opportunity came. Friendships blossomed and we started spending the days together, except while retiring to the dorms for the night.
We celebrated New Year’s eve in a common dorm in Bangalore. The boys had bribed the Professors with some whiskey and happy with that, the Professors left us to our own. We had song, games and dance sessions; a notorious group of boys mixed hard drinks in the cola offered to the girls. We had this game where someone approaches a member of the other gender and asks them an outrageous question. ‘Outrageous’ had a different meaning back then and the poor lads asked really benign ‘outrageous’ questions such as ‘Will you dance with me’, etc. It was the turn of my would-be spouse (we did not know then that we would marry sometime in the future)! He approached me and asked, “Would you marry me?” The poor guy probably did not have the guts to ask this question outside the game!
The last day of the tour, the students decided to go to see Vrindavan gardens. There was a close rapport between the boys and girls by now. It was a beautiful evening and we enjoyed seeing the carefully landscaped flower gardens. Someone suggested us to go to see the fountain display. I believe it was musical fountains but I do not remember now. As we would realize later, it was to be a horrible mistake!
As we reached the area where the fountains were, in no time at all, we found ourselves trapped in a rowdy crowd. Intentional or otherwise, there were people pressing against us, either pushing us forward with the flock or brushing hands across our bodies. For the first time in my life, I felt ‘unprotected’ in a weirdly physical sort of way. It was a nasty feeling. I pushed out with my hands and elbows, as viciously as possible. I wanted to poke some ‘mawaalis’ in their eyes or kick them where it hurt most. Unfortunately, at that age I did not know where it hurt them the most! Even if I did, I would never have tried it then! The boys in our group seemed to realize something was wrong and they tried to stick close to us but hell, we did not want them to be close either, even if they were nice, decent boys. It would create an invisible abyss between us, later!
Finally, after a torturous five minutes or so which seemed like ages, we got out of the crowd. All the girls in our class were from middle-class homes, the kind which act like nothing wrong ever happens to them, especially if it is gender-related. One of my close friends whispered to me, “Did you also feel what I felt? In that crowd?” Another girl was weeping. Perhaps she had had a ‘stronger’ dose of the abuse. I had just felt heavy pushing against me and seen lecherous faces and I had found even that offensive, so I could not imagine how she must have felt.
Some of the boys came to console the weeping girl and asked her what the matter was. Other boys (who knew or had an inkling of what was wrong) tried to politely divert these boys from asking us ‘uncomfortable’ questions. For the first time, I felt that troublesome rift between us and the boys. We were the ‘weaker’, softer sex. Even the boy standing next to me, whom I had to look down to speak, had a major advantage over me. These ‘kaku-bai’ girls would never blurt out to the boys what happened there (and I was one of them). These shareef boys would also never ask since they already knew what had happened.
The journey back was a subdued one. Once again, we had segregated into groups, mostly of only girls or only boys. The matter was never discussed but it was never forgotten. We were naïve back then and these paedophiles only struck the most vulnerable of them all - the ones who had that middle-class, ‘decent’ stamp on their faces. Now when I walk in crowded areas, I sometimes almost hope that someone would come close to tease and I could get a chance to knock him down! My rage descends on my spouse sometimes but he quickly understands and says that if God permitted, he would willingly swap places with me to become a girl and bear some of the burdens!
Posted 8th March 2007
ACTION HERO ESTAMANI
This is set in 1950's when my mom was a teenager.
My grandpa was an engineer and he was traveling all over India, with my grandma, she was cooking and making babies with him. I have a total of 8 aunts and uncles. My mom and my first uncle were left behind with my great-grandma in Chennai for education. There were few cousins around and they all were living together in the old-fashioned house.
There were 4 girls including my mom, who were learning tailoring one of the must-have skills for a girl back in those days.
Everyday they will sit in the front yard of the house and learn to sew.
There was a cyclist who used to go up and down to check out these young beauties, whistle and all. After a week or so he got a nerve to stop his cycle in front of the yard and show these girls his private part...long enough for these girls to look. His way of showing off his manliness, I suppose. These girls obviously embarrassed and humiliated in a way, went running inside and told my great grandma what had happened.
So the next day, great grand ma had a trick up her sleeve. My great grandma too sat with these girls. The guy came, and parked his cycle and lifted to show...and the grandma yelled to one of these girls, "Bring the Hand Pounder, then he will have something to show, when I squish them!" The girls all shocked, surprised and giggled and one actually got to up to get the pounder!
That guy was never seen again there.
(Pounder, I think I am calling it right...is what they use to make spice powder, which is about 3 feet tall, they pound the spices).
We have been told this story and other anecdotes million times by my mom, grandma, aunts and cousins. My mom has stories of eve teasing in early 1960's when she was going to college. They are fun to listen too. It is a way of educating us, to be aware of undesired behavior by men. The thing is nothing has changed from 1950s. Whenever I see a pervert flashing, I can't help remembering the pounder...
And the only solution is to stand up, if not get help.
Well, with all these insights too, I have been 'blank' in a crisis situation, too humiliated to raise my voice. I get all shaky and tears flow. All I could do is mumble an 'ass&*$#" and move on. I think only once I have yelled back at a guy...who said some nasty thing or brushed or touched or pinched. I used to fantasize about slapping a rogue though.
Growing up with anecdotes (posted in sulekha. estamani.sulekha.com)
Posted 8th March 2007
ACTION HERO SHVETHA
Somehow, we women are expected to take all the pinches, winks and lewd comments in a positive stride! As if it was a bloody privilege. The school of thought here seems to be “IGNORE”. No, I can’t Ignore and I will not. I want to get back to each one of those so called “men” who don’t leave a single chance to harass women and break their neck.
Like all other girls I have had quite a few encounters with such “men”.
I was walking back home with my mom after a shopping spree and a guy standing near by made an obscene gesture and winked at me. I picked up a stone and shouted “What did you just do?” It was a busy market place and loads of people around. He just shrugged his shoulders and said “Beta, maine kuchh nahi kiya” ! Ohhh, How I wanted to kill him, there and then. My mom gave me a long lecture as to how girls should be patient and ignore such things. She said that I made myself look like a fool and people must have had a hearty laugh. But, I wasn’t convinced.
Then one December morning, I took my little pup for a walk. It was quite early and a bit foggy. I didn’t go very far from home. A man passed by on his bicycle, his face covered with a blanket. He stopped at about 10 feet from me. I didn’t look back but could sense him coming towards me. I heard the footsteps louder and faster. I was already shaking, but I turned back to find him trying to grab my neck. I abused him at the top of my voice and tried to grab him. But, he turned back and started running. I ran with all my force abusing him and telling him to stop. He took his cycle and ran away.
I was trembling, I was shaking but I was Proud!
Shvetha Bhalla
Posted 8th March 2007
ACTION HERO - DR. RUTHLESS!
It was on my Maiden Voyage in into the world (I was 19, 20) when traveling hippie style, student-rate (read: dirt poor!) around the Mideast and Central Asia where I first discovered that I had "it" in me - by that I mean a primal, fierce, no-holds-barred instinct for self preservation-- the will to attack back, to save my own pretty ass! Who knew? It just popped open like a seed under fire; born of the friction from being rubbed the wrong way.
This was in the mid 1970's- when striking back in self defense was barely a blip on the screen. Even in the US, fighting back was still a male prerogative - and perhaps expectation. Growing up "girl," my own warrior spirit was pruned back by fear, a litany of "don't" and by fear's encumbering offspring: internalized restraint. (In other words, we girls just "ate it" -- we ate lots of it.) I figured that if assaulted I would crumble. Fortunately I was wrong...
Mother India is where I had my most primal epiphany -- a story I will describe -- when I literally busted a guy's hand who repeatedly wouldn't take NO for an answer. (I slammed him about the face and neck too; man was he surprised!) Little bones crunched beneath the fury of my fist. He was strong, burly, and well dressed in a crisp white shirt. When I struck back, I watched him deflate like a balloon. A homerun grin peered through my fury. It wasn't that I enjoyed hurting him - well maybe just a little - but that I had issued his terror, and not the other way around. I learned: I could siphon power from violating hands. (And let me tell you there were many; for a long time these and other handprints remained invisibly inked on my body like DNA at the scene of a crime.) This experience is part of what first led me to martial arts.
Then, ten years later, a terrifying home-alone encounter with a would-be rapist in sunshiny, Boulder Colorado (few things are scarier that being woken from a deep sleep by the sound of creaking floorboards from the steps of a Man you do not know...) led me to more practical down- n-dirty methods that would become me, earning me my beloved trade name: Dr. Ruthless!
Posted 8th March 2007
Violence of the mind and body
Did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, if Cameron, my English professor were to read this line she would probably say it is quite clichéd . But that apart we grew up in a middle class neighborhood in the western suburbs of Mumbai, with relatives scattered like pebbles on sand all over the central and western side.
After being away from India for so long, its funny how my lingo has not changed yet. I still refer to Mumbai with the railways as the backdrop.
This is my way of supporting the blank noise project. Don't know if it will make a piddly of a difference or not, but here are my experiences and many might relate to them.
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What makes one violate another humans space is yet another mystery but all I can say it leaves quite a distaste for life. Perverts can be found in all aspects of life and we often tend to ignore and bear the brunt. Some of us stand up to them but it has not made a tremendous difference so far.
The family would often accompany my father whenever he traveled by the railways in the male compartment. We would find ourselves in situations not so pleasant with our dad trying to shield us from the strangers on board. We were only 6 and 7 years old then.
Growing to be 8 and 9 we would often pinch back the groper or dig our nails into their hand. Red has always been feisty from the begining. The groping, winking and suggestive remarks never ceased even after in numerous prayers we said before boarding the train. Finally coming to be 10 and 12 the girls put their foot down to say no more traveling with dad in the gents compartment.
What causes men, middle aged or otherwise, to behave in such fashion with kids probably good enough to be their own is a million dollar question worth researching. The older a man gets the more pervert he is is the general talk of the street.
Growing up Red soon found out that if the instigator was called upon aloud in public places it usually worked like a charm. So Red started calling out aloud often asking them to step back and move away. The embarassment on their faces was a darn give away even if they mouthed sorries or nonchalant mumbo jumbo.
The workplace in often a safe place for most of us. We make friends and trust them often. But on one instance Red was mentally harassed because she was an intelligent, petite Asian chick. Nobody, specially men, don't like women to overshadow them to add to that a newbie is a definite no no. Profanity was intensified, terms like brownie, brown cookie and bitch were used.
Red did not quit, when talking to the HR did not bear fruit, she stepped upwards to the next available ear that would listen. Of course corporates rarely like to accept that there is a problem. Things were resolved in hush hush, everybody denied any existence of trouble and Red was termed a troublemaker by the corporate grapevine. That meant more hard work, longer hours without support. Red trotted on tired or not and finally yes truth did triumph. Red is thankful to the few who vouched for her and supported her whether upfront or behind the scenes. Honesty does pay off.
Red could have initiated a lawsuit but that is not where I come from. Those are not my values. Seems like a bollywood story but it is a chapter from Reds life that she is very proud of. Red stayed on much to others dismay and did pretty good for herself. But Red has never trusted anyone after that. Such incidents mar certain feelings like trust and hope forever. I never let myself forget who I am and where I came from. I am proud to be who I am.
What is it that causes people to hate others, we might never know. Was reading Priya Sivan's comments on her rasam post and read a comment very very derogatory about women in general. Why do some view women only as a sexual object. What gives anyone any right to behave this way.
Many might argue it is the effect of movies and all. But this reason does not stand up tall for itself. if this were true, we would have musclemen a la Dharam style or a la Sanju baba doing dishum dishum on the streets all the time and prancing around the trees would be a regular sight too. If these are irrational then so are the others we see in the make believe world of cinema.
As long as there are people to stand up against these incidents there will be reason to believe that little girls and women will be safe on the streets.
Heres to hoping blank noise will create enough ruckus for the voices wanting to be heard !
Posted 8th March 2007
ACTION HERO ABIGAIL
So many stories. So many times I couldn't say anything, couldn't react. And then there are the times I could--I yelled, cursed, spit, even hit. I feel better every time I react, but I always think "what could I have done better?"
I'll relate two incidents from when I felt like an "action hero"--one old and one from today only.
One day I was walking through a craft mela when I noticed a man taking my picture with his mobile. I stopped and loudly asked him what the hell he was doing. When he said nothing I demanded he show me his phone, the pictures he had taken of me and my friend and countless other women in the mela and who knows where. By then a crowd had formed. I demanded that he erase my pictures from him phone and those of other women and stood there and watched while he embarassedly erased them all.
The second was tonight after the blank noise intervention. I had to get an auto from Khan Market after having dinner. Everyone wanted double the fare or more. Suddenly I noticed one of the autos had a "Chedkhani Roko" bumper sticker on the back of his auto. I asked him when he put the sticker on and found out he had been present at tonight's intervention. Still having the "ya" on my shirt I showed him to prove I'd been in the line. He recognized me then. He wasn't ready to go but his friend was, and at a reasonable price. Sometimes I wonder what the impact of our interventions is beyond the personal experience of the participants. Tonight I got an answer--no matter what the size, it does effect others. They remember us and our actions.
Posted 8th March 2007
ACTION HERO VARSHA
it was sometime in june 2003. My friend and I were browsing through 'second-hand' books sold on pavement at fountain,churchgate. It was evening time, so lot of people were heading towards Churchgate station. My friend and I were busy bargaining with the hawker. suddenly, i felt somebody touch my bottom. For a second or two, I dint react. I stood there stunned. I turned around to catch the offender, but there were so many men walking fast towards the station. I ran ahead without thinking. I prayed hard. 'Oh God, please, please tell me who did it?' Suddenly, as if god himself pointed it out to me, my eyes focussed on a man in purple shirt walking casually. I went ahead and hit him hard on his back. He and his friend turned around. he was looking like an educated 'bank executive' type. for a moment, I thought my instinct was wrong. But, to my surprise, this guy dint ask why i hit him. he was looking embarassed. I confronted him and he dint deny my accusations. What I wont forget was the look on his friend's face! He was looking at his friend as if he had never seen him before.
As I went back to my friend, I was feeling good. i had lost the battle, but I won the war.
there have been many instances when i have faced street sexual harassement. I always ask myself, why do we have to go through this? Its not possible that so many men could be sexually deprived. Subconciously, men are fighting for the place that they consider theirs. When they see women on streets, they feel that public place is rightfully theirs and they all are trying to intimidate us. it sounds dramatic, but i think its true.
thanx
varsha
Posted 9th March 2007
ACTION HERO - ABIGAIL
So many stories. So many times I couldn't say anything, couldn't react. And then there are the times I could--I yelled, cursed, spit, even hit. I feel better every time I react, but I always think "what could I have done better?"
I'll relate two incidents from when I felt like an "action hero"--one old and one from today only.
One day I was walking through a craft mela when I noticed a man taking my picture with his mobile. I stopped and loudly asked him what the hell he was doing. When he said nothing I demanded he show me his phone, the pictures he had taken of me and my friend and countless other women in the mela and who knows where. By then a crowd had formed. I demanded that he erase my pictures from him phone and those of other women and stood there and watched while he embarassedly erased them all.
The second was tonight after the blank noise intervention. I had to get an auto from Khan Market after having dinner. Everyone wanted double the fare or more. Suddenly I noticed one of the autos had a "Chedkhani Roko" bumper sticker on the back of his auto. I asked him when he put the sticker on and found out he had been present at tonight's intervention. Still having the "ya" on my shirt I showed him to prove I'd been in the line. He recognized me then. He wasn't ready to go but his friend was, and at a reasonable price. Sometimes I wonder what the impact of our interventions is beyond the personal experience of the participants. Tonight I got an answer--no matter what the size, it does effect others. They remember us and our actions.
--Abigail Crisman
Posted 9th March 2007 by J
ACTION HERO VARSHA
It was sometime in June 2003. My friend and I were browsing through 'second-hand' books sold on pavement at fountain,churchgate. It was evening time, so lot of people were heading towards Churchgate station. My friend and I were busy bargaining with the hawker.
Suddenly, i felt somebody touch my bottom. For a second or two, I dint react. I stood there stunned. I turned around to catch the offender, but there were so many men walking fast towards the station. I ran ahead without thinking. I prayed hard. 'Oh God, please, please tell me who did it?' Suddenly, as if god himself pointed it out to me, my eyes focussed on a man in purple shirt walking casually. I went ahead and hit him hard on his back. He and his friend turned around. he was looking like an educated 'bank executive' type. for a moment, I thought my instinct was wrong. But, to my surprise, this guy dint ask why i hit him. he was looking embarassed. I confronted him and he dint deny my accusations.
What I wont forget was the look on his friend's face! He was looking at his friend as if he had never seen him before. As I went back to my friend, I was feeling good. i had lost the battle, but I won the war.
There have been many instances when I have faced street sexual harassement. I always ask myself, why do we have to go through this? Its not possible that so many men could be sexually deprived. Subconciously, men are fighting for the place that they consider theirs. When they see women on streets, they feel that public place is rightfully theirs and they all are trying to intimidate us. it sounds dramatic, but i think its true.
-Varsha Chandwani
Posted 9th March 2007
