The Fear: A Story

I have always been annoyingly positive about life and people. Annoying because general belief says fear is what keeps you alive and safe. But I believe fear is what stops you from living!

Every time I walk on a street I refuse to look over my shoulder, I enjoy the moment not capsized by fear of the dark and dastardly.

Preachy? Idealist? Quixotic? Let me tell you a story…

Yesterday I faced an incident, it was about 8 in the evening and I was walking back home through a posh locality and a guy (lets call him Mr. B******d for the lack of words) drives up on a bike and makes a ridiculous effort to grope me and rushes past. I fling an umbrella I had at hand and whack him on the elbow. He makes a brave escape as expected of his kind and the incident is over in less than a minute.

The post incident is the nerve wracking bit; once Mr.B leaves I am left fuming on the road, annoyed, vulnerable, angry and very frustrated about not being able to kick him in the gut. I screamed a few expletives, for once wishing I knew more.

I make an effort to calm my nerves and speak to a friend, and about 30 minutes later rationale kicks in.

No. This is not the first time I have been groped. If you are living in a city and are a woman, on an average you face at least one abuse a day. Be it a sleazy comments, leaching or incidents of intimidation.

My first thought was – Why ME? And then WHY at all?

Was it because I was in western clothes and looking pretty? I think not. I have gone through similar incidents when covered from head to toe in salwaar suit and once (for the first time) when I was 13 and cycling back home from school! So looks obviously do not matter, neither do clothes!

Is it for pleasure? I doubt that too. It was a split second incident – for which Mr. B took elaborate pains to hide his face, cover his vehicle number and zero in a spot which was easy to flee from and did not have many people how could react instantly. Is that pleasure? re-arrrgh-lly?? Feel like saying ‘get a life!’ its not even worth the effort!?

At this point I actually felt a mix of disgust and sympathy for Mr. B. How degenerated do you have to be in character to find pleasure in something so weird? Was it a form of mental sickness? Was it an attempt to feel more masculine by intimidating a woman on the street who is waaay out of your league? Or simply an attempt to vent frustration of his own failure in life? What ever it was…It must be a pitiable existence to be a looser of such magnitude.

The next big question was – What do I do? The first time I was 13 and I was too embarrassed to speak of it. The second time I was intimidated. But now, I am looking for answers. I know it is about being caught off guard and pepper spray won’t help? Self defense moves don’t help (my reflexes are pretty bad! I walk without hurting myself is good enough!)? What do I do? I got an array of advices “Do not to walk alone,” “Do not wear skirts.”

That’s not a solution!!!!! It if were, I do consider shifting base to Taliban! (Worse is when it comes from friends)

I do not know if such an incident will happen again? I do not know how good my reflexes will be to counter it? But one thing is for sure, I will not let a loser redefine my beliefs. I will not let one incident with a perverted mind redefine my character.

My issue is not the incident, he barely touched me. My issue is the stigma and fear associated with it – the incident was an attack of my dignity, spirit and independence!

So today morning when I woke up and was dressing up, I thought over the incident and concluded “F*** you Mr. B*****d!”. The sin is his, so should be the stigma.

Stepped out in a pretty dress and walked out with my pretty nose held high 

Anecdote: I have had the fortune of running into many exceptional women – this is dedicated to them. I also have been lucky with some of the men I have met – to them too 

Special mention: Aprita Mukherjee who religiously edits my posts and pushes me to write and sketch. The blog is thus half her effort

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