No city has been safe for that matter. In my initial months at a newspaper in Hyderabad, I was returning home late after work, when a couple of bike-borne guys followed me. As I reached home, they stopped the auto-rickshaw I was travelling in and started shouting filthy abuses at me. I stood my ground.
They had a problem with my travelling so late. They asked the auto-driver to follow their bike instead. When I ordered him not to comply and moved to my flat complex instead, they got all the more angry. It sent me shivers. But I was angry with this attitude of men in particular. Nothing happened after that. But I eventually quit the newspaper that refused to drop me home late night.
My rendezvous with unsafe travel at night continued after I returned to Bangalore too, much to my family's dismay. I felt unsafe, even with army men around. From my office in a by-lane of Infantry Road, I would have to walk either on to Infantry Road or Cubbon Road to hire an autorickshaw. I passed by the Army land gate opposite Parade Ground one evening after 8 pm, when I heard a bird call from there.
As if those men in vehicles passing by repeatedly in the hope of a `pick-up' was not enough, now a bird call from behind the Army gate! I got so furious that I walked back and right up to the man manning the gate, and said, ``I know this is not so safe a time or place...but how dare you do that?'' The man was obviously taken aback and panicked. ``I didn't do anything,'' he pleaded, rather defensively. Obviously he was afraid of facing the wrath from his seniors.
I can recall any number of other incidents that made me feel unsafe. The rape and murder of Pratibha Srikanthmurthy by her own cabbie was another case. In the meeting that followed, we heard some utter chauvinistic remarks passed by BPO bosses too, about the way girls dress to work. Everyone screamed, ``More security for call centre women''. It amused me further.
On every night I waited for my bus at Mayo Hall bus stand, I would find other girls too, some after an evening shift at hotels, others from offices nearby, still others from the clothes showrooms they worked at. ``As if we are not women!'' I muttered to myself.
It prompted me to ask the Police Commissioner about security to other women on the roads at night too. Some empty promises made. And quickly forgotten.
The trouble with the macho male mindset is this: that any woman on the streets after dark, is `available', is `loose in character' and `needs to be taught a lesson'. When politics and the insider of city versus outsider in the city hooliganism gets mixed up, women are the easiest baits. I have reason to cry in exasperation: Who gave them that right?
So even if you have gone through a hard day's work, made those umpteen calls for a story that your Delhi office is waiting for and is unaware of your situation too, be prepared to see that police van move near the bus-stand suspiciously, its people wondering if you are a prostitute.
If you as much as walk near Cubbon Road at night with shopping bags in hand or clutching your office files, do not think it will deter those `sexual favour' seekers who will stalk you.
One late evening, my luck with auto-rickshaws that would drop me home ran out, and I walked across to the signal at the Parade Ground, Kamaraj Road-Brigade Road intersection when a two-wheeler slowed down by me and stopped at a distance ahead. I was all prepared to give the concerned guy a punch, breathing hard and angry. He removed his helmet, and I heaved a sigh of relief. My colleague in profession from Times of India, who was headed home.
The next thing: this colleague, obviously concerned about my safety, suggested I do not walk that road again. ``Ask me what I go through. I am experienced at it,'' I said, bitterly. Did I have a choice? Wish the government officially marked those safe and unsafe roads. He played Good Samaritan that day and dropped me to the nearest bus stop. Not all days are lucky. Things did go better on that front after my fiance came into my life. He would insist on picking me up from work and dropping me home. My work suffered as a result, making me feel tense about carrying it home. But safety assured.
The latest I get to hear, is that in the ugly aftermath of the Mangalore episode, hooligans are making merry by attacking women. And the Bangalore cops in many ways are complicit with many of them. Whichever political group they belong to, a shocker of a news story in The Hindu says it all. Even sitting thousands of miles away in Mumbai, I feel the jitters.
I can imagine what working women out there must be feeling. The issue is not religion. It is about the willingness to commit crimes in the name of religion. No religion preaches violence. No goon - political or apolitical, understands it.
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