Blank Noise Project Blog-a-thon
Reading all the incidents blogged by women across India and the rest of the world was cathartic and yet painful. They brought forth deep hidden-from-prying-eyes fears, shame, outrage and smouldering anger. Murky 'incidents' from the past came flashing back like a horror movie rewinding before my eyes. Does exposing/expressing the 'horror' and 'nightmare' really help in supressing the incidence of these experiences? Does it really cause the 'perverts' to pause and ponder over how 'sick' they really are? I honestly dont think so. While I truly applaud the efforts by the team behind the Blank Noise Project, I wonder about its impact on making lives safer and less creepy for women in this world. I do agree though that it will help people 'arm' themselves better to confront ugly situations.
I was only 4 when my 'uncle' decided that I had come of age to see his 'manhood'. There is nothing else that I remember of my life at that tender age except that time when he jutted out that 'scary thing' at me. I remember vividly too the room I was in when it happened, the lazy afternoon sunbeams streaming in through the window and the ding-dong of the grandfather clock, marking "the hour" for ever. Even now I break out in cold sweat when I think of how he violated my innocence. I never have and probably never will confront him with that incident. I love his kids way too much.
While a graduate student at Kollam, Kerala, our hostel was only a few hundred yards away from the all-women-college. A new transplant into the town from a world and a lifestyle aeons away I had no clue of the things I would have to get used to. The wall that ran the length of the walk to college was liberally sprinkled with boys whose sole aim in life was to eve-tease. During the initial months I did not understand most of the slurs and lewd remarks and walked by blissfully unaware of comments on various parts of my anatomy. Then one day as my best friend S and I walked briskly, a fat guy jumped off the wall and made his way upto us. Sensing trouble, we doubled our pace and prayed he would leave us alone. Inspite of his size, he was as slippery as an eel and I didnt even see what he did before he turned around to a whooping yell from his fellow crooks. Since he hadnt touched me, I quickly turned to S whose tears were pouring down her face as she walked ahead not slowing down. He had grabbed her breasts and moved on before she could even react. This on a busy road full of people watching the 'tamasha' and a cheering squad on the wall. I ws filled with rage so deep that I could barely breathe. Yet I didnt dare go back to confront the guy, so terrified was I then of what he might do to me. Today when I look back, I cringe with shame at my 'cowardness', though I know a good number of people who will tell me that I did the right thing by letting it 'pass'.
Another time, on the same road, a guy 'flashed' at me. This time (as advised by my experienced aunt) I hooted at him! Yes, I shamed him so much that he ran away red-faced dragging his badly tied 'mundu' behind him! Shame them, make them the victims of their own dirty games and see how they slink away. HAH!
My friend P was very excited at her first job. She had been job-hunting for a long time and had finally gotten a break at a product marketing firm. She was raring to prove herself! She slogged so hard that just a month after her joining the boss 'promoted' her by offering to let her come along on an out-of-town 'business meeting'. P, naive to the ways of the world was thrilled to bits untill she overheard him asking his secretary to book them into a double room. She quit that very minute.
A few weeks back as I was walking 'Casper' on a late Sunday evening, my thoughts were happy after a relaxing weekend and the slight chill in the air invigorating. I vaguely heard the sound of a bike behind me. What happened next took just 3 seconds, but for me lasted forever. The guy on the bike slowed down and pawed me before speeding away under the cover of darkness. For a few seconds I couldnt comprehend what had just happened but by the time I recovered, he was too far away and all I could do was hurl some abuses at him. The security guard in the adjacent building looked as though he was watching a movie and did not even move a finger to help. Why should he? Choking with nausea and burning with shame I made my way home. The shame will never die down and I will never again venture out at that time. Even if I am forced to, my pepper spray will always be clenched in my tense hands. I wished I had reacted by throwing him a punch at least. I wished I had been more alert. I wished I hadnt been enjoying the evening breeze as much.
'They" are there everywhere. You dont have to have a third eye behind your head to see their dirty looks boring into you. You could feel it blindfolded. On the roads, in the trains and buses, in places of worship (oh yes!), in busy and not so busy markets, at the workplace, in schools, on the beach, in movie halls...and even in your homes. "They" are our nemesis and I really dont know when and how "they" will ever cease to exist. Oh, if only for one day, it could all turn tospy turvy and if all of "them" could become women and be at the receiving end. Maybe then they would be shocked into changing, maybe then the world would become a safer place for us.
I was only 4 when my 'uncle' decided that I had come of age to see his 'manhood'. There is nothing else that I remember of my life at that tender age except that time when he jutted out that 'scary thing' at me. I remember vividly too the room I was in when it happened, the lazy afternoon sunbeams streaming in through the window and the ding-dong of the grandfather clock, marking "the hour" for ever. Even now I break out in cold sweat when I think of how he violated my innocence. I never have and probably never will confront him with that incident. I love his kids way too much.
While a graduate student at Kollam, Kerala, our hostel was only a few hundred yards away from the all-women-college. A new transplant into the town from a world and a lifestyle aeons away I had no clue of the things I would have to get used to. The wall that ran the length of the walk to college was liberally sprinkled with boys whose sole aim in life was to eve-tease. During the initial months I did not understand most of the slurs and lewd remarks and walked by blissfully unaware of comments on various parts of my anatomy. Then one day as my best friend S and I walked briskly, a fat guy jumped off the wall and made his way upto us. Sensing trouble, we doubled our pace and prayed he would leave us alone. Inspite of his size, he was as slippery as an eel and I didnt even see what he did before he turned around to a whooping yell from his fellow crooks. Since he hadnt touched me, I quickly turned to S whose tears were pouring down her face as she walked ahead not slowing down. He had grabbed her breasts and moved on before she could even react. This on a busy road full of people watching the 'tamasha' and a cheering squad on the wall. I ws filled with rage so deep that I could barely breathe. Yet I didnt dare go back to confront the guy, so terrified was I then of what he might do to me. Today when I look back, I cringe with shame at my 'cowardness', though I know a good number of people who will tell me that I did the right thing by letting it 'pass'.
Another time, on the same road, a guy 'flashed' at me. This time (as advised by my experienced aunt) I hooted at him! Yes, I shamed him so much that he ran away red-faced dragging his badly tied 'mundu' behind him! Shame them, make them the victims of their own dirty games and see how they slink away. HAH!
My friend P was very excited at her first job. She had been job-hunting for a long time and had finally gotten a break at a product marketing firm. She was raring to prove herself! She slogged so hard that just a month after her joining the boss 'promoted' her by offering to let her come along on an out-of-town 'business meeting'. P, naive to the ways of the world was thrilled to bits untill she overheard him asking his secretary to book them into a double room. She quit that very minute.
A few weeks back as I was walking 'Casper' on a late Sunday evening, my thoughts were happy after a relaxing weekend and the slight chill in the air invigorating. I vaguely heard the sound of a bike behind me. What happened next took just 3 seconds, but for me lasted forever. The guy on the bike slowed down and pawed me before speeding away under the cover of darkness. For a few seconds I couldnt comprehend what had just happened but by the time I recovered, he was too far away and all I could do was hurl some abuses at him. The security guard in the adjacent building looked as though he was watching a movie and did not even move a finger to help. Why should he? Choking with nausea and burning with shame I made my way home. The shame will never die down and I will never again venture out at that time. Even if I am forced to, my pepper spray will always be clenched in my tense hands. I wished I had reacted by throwing him a punch at least. I wished I had been more alert. I wished I hadnt been enjoying the evening breeze as much.
'They" are there everywhere. You dont have to have a third eye behind your head to see their dirty looks boring into you. You could feel it blindfolded. On the roads, in the trains and buses, in places of worship (oh yes!), in busy and not so busy markets, at the workplace, in schools, on the beach, in movie halls...and even in your homes. "They" are our nemesis and I really dont know when and how "they" will ever cease to exist. Oh, if only for one day, it could all turn tospy turvy and if all of "them" could become women and be at the receiving end. Maybe then they would be shocked into changing, maybe then the world would become a safer place for us.
posted by nomita @ 7:58 PM
5 Comments:
really sad to read this post of yours. I know that this male eagerness thing is not something that one should attribute to just indian males, but the desperation with which the desis stoop to new lows is really something. I expect this and more in a place where shakeela is adored, anyway.. You will see different shades of this in US too, subtle, more polished, but the in the end much the same. After reading more, I wish the approach to child abusers in desh was much much harsher, though.
@ a m I agree wholeheartedly. Harsher rules would definitely instill fear into would-be-perpetrators minds and maybe reduce the incidence of such incidents. I think wishing for a moral conversion would be too much!
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