There is this boiling anger inside of me. Not able to handle it. I'm not yelling or crying. All that stopped long back.

Tried everything. Run like crazy, work with a vengeance, eat like a pig. Nothing helps. The anger inside of me just doesn't seem to go away. Even when there is no rape 'case' hogging the headlines. I wasn't even going to write a post about it. I just read something in passing on Facebook. About how the crowd gathered didn't bother to cover the girl and her friend who were lying on the road, bleeding, naked.

Where did the infamous Indian culture which doesn't allow our women to wear jeans vanish? How could you stand and stare at a woman bleeding and lying nude on the street? Isn't that a violation of the rules in your warped moral system? Why? Because it is a rape? So, it's okay if she remains naked. Because it doesn't matter anymore?

Or, is it because, now that she's raped, everyone else can gawk at her too. Everyone else can remark on what she wore and what she didn't wear. One more person who points out about travelling in groups will fucking get a supaari from my end. I swear. How do you explain acquaintance rape? I guess it doesn't happen in your world. Same world where  no one has sex and women produce babies like magic, I assume.

This is clearly an abuse of physical power. Sometimes I get so mad thinking about this and in my head, I beat every man in my head with this huge club. And hurt him where it hurts the most. It's sad because I'm surrounded by some good men. Some nice men. And I'm forever on a vigil. It hurts now mentally and physically to keep thinking of this. To keep alert all the time.

I don't know anymore. And don't want to think rationally anymore. I vote for castration. I don't care if it is inhuman. Or, if we shouldn't have a tit for tat thing going on.

No more civilized debates for me, thank you.No more mention of ethics, please. You can keep it to yourself and write editorials with big words and quote the law and nod all you want.

I say, fuck you.

Don't worry, take it slow!

That is what I'm trying to tell myself.

As a woman nearing 30, the pressure on me is really high. Trust me, I laughed it off too when I read all those articles, watched all those TED Talks. With a job I love, and a family I want to prioritise, it's becoming increasingly tough. People are praying so I have a baby. I have no clue if I want one, yet.

Last week at work taught me some things about myself. I can work hard and push myself to the core. (Whose daughter am I, after all!) I can continue to be patient and smile and keep doing what I'm doing (reminds me that I'm becoming my mum) and blow up elsewhere. Only. I don't want to do the last part. At all.

I've had my share of crazy work. College Theater club activities, Mess secretary related responsibilities, weddings at home  - have all been beyond crazy. But proving myself to be that perfect woman at home and work? That didn't exist. As much as I try to run away from that stereotype, it comes back to bite me.

So, it's a pledge taken publicly now. I will prioritise my happiness over everything else from today. I won't think of how much money I have to save, how I have to give birth to babies that will save this world, how I'm not doing any favours to myself by working 24/7, or how I don't have to save this world.

 I need a saviour. From my expectations, from my prejudices. From my all-burning passion, sometimes.

I'm pretty happy now. With work and the life decisions I've made. But like my mum says, there's always room for more.

I want to be happier. And that means a whole lot to me than anything else I've accomplished or going to accomplish.

They say it takes 30 days to make something a habit. I'm being generous to myself and give myself 3 months.

Roughly :)


.

It's not over yet.

This post isn't about men groping me.

I was 13 and used to come home for lunch from school everyday. A ton of other kids used to do the same. One guy decided to show his organ to me. I had no freaking clue what to do. He wasn't abusing me or saying anything to me. He asked me for the time, dammit! If it wasn't for a worldly-wise classmate of mine who pulled me and ran to school with me, I really don't know what I'd have said or done. No, he didn't touch me.

Nothing changed when I was the independent, empowered woman in Hyderabad. I mean education empowers us, right? And I was earning too! Now that made me absolutely eligible to belong to the group of career minded women. I deserved all the abuse all the more though I thought no one could touch me.

My room mates and I went grocery shopping and while waiting for an auto, at 7.30 PM wearing clothes like a pair of jeans and a tshirt and a salwar kameez outside a fucking mall, 2 men decided to ride past us on their bike and spit paan at us. On our faces. I can't even describe what I felt that day. Or now, when I relive that incident. At least, they didn't touch us.

Of course, the contentious issue of letting women drive on the roads. So much worse than drunk men or road rage, certainly. There was a time when I drove every single day. On my Kinetic Honda. Women are scared, so we stop at red lights. So, we deserve to receive the honking treatment from behind us. And comments on how we can't drive. Or, how stupid we are to stop when there is no other vehicle anyway. But hey, he hasn't touched me.

Or, when they swish around you in bikes. No one touched me. How lucky am I! Or, when they leer at you from the back of the bus and you feel it behind your back but are too scared to turn and check. Why not, you ask? Now if you look at him, that will provoke him further. First lesson we are taught as girls. He hasn't touched you, right?

Or, when the bastard of auto drivers purposely drive on potholes and adjust their mirror just in time to see your chest heave up and down as you focus more on not falling out of the auto. Stop complaining. He hasn't touched you!

Or, when men just refuse to look you in the eye and talk to you. They look elsewhere. I have a strategy. I directly stare at their crotch. What? I didn't touch anyone. Or anything.

I'm a girl who grew up in Bangalore. Middle class to upper middle class family, good schools, good neighbourhoods, parents who listened, a nice father,good uncles, amazing brothers. I'm grateful. (I mean, I should be happy about all this because hey, it's all relative!)

But when I walk out of my house, I still clench my fist and get ready for battle when a guy comes close to me. Someone walks past me as I'm walking from the bus stop to my house, I immediately clench my fist, take stock of everything and everyone around me and I'm ready for the umpteenth fight of my life.

I know exactly what I will do if he touches me.

First, I will yell and make a scene.

Hold him by his collars and question him. Then I will resort to physical violence.

No, no. I should yell and run. What if he has a weapon? Okay, let me carry a weapon.

Shit, he's smart. He attacked me from the front! Fuck, my breasts hurt, but okay, I should just bend my head and walk away. Isn't as bad as rape. Thank God.

Okay no. Don't let them go. This is not a pub no? This is the middle of the road. Yell.

Oh, I take the same road everyday? Hmm. Glare, make some noise, but quickly hope it dissipates and walk away.

Take an auto for the next one month and live in mortal fear. Or, ask the husband/assorted nice men in your life to drop you. Some men are good no? It's okay if they don't really understand what you go through the moment you step out of that door.

Phew. Some strategy, this. Calling the police has become redundant after a policeman told me once to 'adjust.'

"Alla, nimm hathra car idhe alva? Nimmanthavru yaakri bus alli hogtheera?"

("So, you have a car, right? Why do people like you take the bus?")

Correct. Why this tension?

Take the car. Protects you just like not going to pubs will protect you from those lechers. Just to be safe, don't come back home late just because you have a car.

When I sometimes sit down and wonder about the amount of thinking I do everyday on what I have to wear, how I have to walk, how much eye contact I need to have with strangers, with male friends, with male colleagues, how close a guy is standing next to me, or how I shouldn't have worn a white dress in the sweltering summer. The sun makes the dress transparent. Oh, the rain will make it see-through.

I spoke to someone on Twitter about castration. He had a very sane statement to make. Why punish inhumane acts with inhumane punishment? I was tired. Just one more reason to point out how women can adjust. Jail or capital punishment should solve the problem. Let's forget for a minute that it hasn't done what it has to do: teach such men fear of punishment/law/loss of life.

Because, dear friend on Twitter, losing their ability to have an erection is considered significantly more inhumane than losing their life. Or mine.

And that is where things fall fell apart.

P.S. - The someone on Twitter is actually a nice guy. He was making very sane statements considering all of us women were really mad. It was a very genuine question he asked. So no offence to him.

What happened the night of the day before.

There have been a couple of incidents that have happened in my life that has taught me a ton. About myself and others. I've hardly spoken about those not because I'm afraid of speaking about them openly or any such feeling. I look at them as something that just happened in my life. The last incident that happened day before yesterday turned me into a person I am not,  never was and hopefully will not continue to be. Friends called me a overthinker, my dad said I panicked a lot and I know I got a little paranoid.

I was in Class 5 when I was 'abducted' by 2 teenagers. That they were both girls probably fills my parents hearts with relief even today, I think. They told me that they were my dad's friend's daughters and wanted to invite us for their bro's wedding and I followed them. I trust easily and make friends easily. They took me through Bangalore's old city and stopped at a dead end and slapped me and took my tiny gold studs away. I waited, tried calling my frantic parents from the store nearby and finally found my way home. I ran for my life that day. I came crying out of fear that day. Police station rounds were made, complaints written and the girls were caught. I saw how the police spoke to them too. We decided to let them go with a warning because I'm sure my dad, for all his bravado, is a softie inside and didn't want to see two 15 year olds in a rotting jail with other hardened criminals.

I was going to get married in 10-15 days when I visited the police station with a criminal complaint the second time. 5 men came home. Ours was a house that was away from the gate and I took all precautions. I looked through the window to see a guy with documents. I asked him who he was and he mentioned 'courier.' I opened the door and he mentioned a random name. I said that this was the wrong house and tried to close the door. Little did I know that there were 4 men waiting below the window I looked out of, waiting to pounce on me. In a matter of seconds, 5 men were in the verandah of my house. I was at home with my two grandmothers. One was an invalid by then, with a young nurse and the other limped. I knew that if I let them go beyond the verandah, we were doomed. I yelled and fought and kept those 5 occupied with me while the young nurse ran out to help and my granny came out yelling. I still don't know what it is that made all the 5 men pay attention only to me. Surely, I was just a 25 year old girl and 2 men were more than enough to subdue me? Maybe they thought there were more people, but they got scared and started to run. I ran after them. I didn't think twice. I don't think I will do anything different today. I ran behind them across the lawn, fell down clumsily, held onto one guy who kicked off his chappals and ran away. I ran behind him and he was at an arm's length. Then I realised. I felt cold air on my chest. Bangalore wasn't this hot that March, you know? My kurta was ripped. Ashamed and scared and hurt, I walked back with my grandmother who came running behind me. I went inside to change to see I'd been stabbed.

I was admitted to the hospital. Media came, media went. Police came, police went. I was told I'd been brave. I'd saved my grandmothers. But one thought stuck with me. Why did they rip my kurta? They came to rob. They could have, they chose not to. They were unsuccessful. What does that have to do with ripping my clothes? Did they expect that I'd run after them? I went to the police again then trying to remember their faces,  and didn't talk of the ripped kurta. It was at the back of my head though. With me not being able to breathe, I couldn't have been Nancy Drew just then. I struggled to eat and breathe and I was getting married in 10 days. March 8 is International Women's Day. I got a Bravery Award. Only, I was getting married the next day. Like any girl's family, my parents obviously thought marriage was more important than a Rs 10k award. Except my dad. He was bent on me going there. But by then, I myself had forgotten it all. I'd decided to move on by getting married and moving away. I didn't recognize the guys anyway.

A year later, I came back home and my dad asked me to go collect the reward from the Govt office. We went to discover that a policeman had brought a 'Nandini' with appropriate ID to collect the award.

Day before yesterday, we were driving down the KTPO road when we found 2 guys on a Scooty (I have the Scooty number too) driving zig-zag. We waited for a couple of mins to see if they'd do the right thing. They didn't. We had vehicles behind us and I lowered the window to tell them " Please straight oDisi." ODisi is Kannada for 'drive.' They moved to one side and we passed them. That was the end of a normal day for us. They chased us after that yelling and banging our car with their hands.They banged on the passenger window and tried to stop us from taking a turn by coming ahead of the vehicle. They came between the divider and the car and made us go fast. Then at some point, my husband thought that if they continued this and we reached a signal (there was a signal expected ahead), we might be harassed further, so he took a sharp U turn while I tried calling 100 (Police) The line was engaged. Then I immediately called a friend who stays nearby and asked her to expect us. She spoke to her security guard and they let us inside their gated complex. We crashed in, movie-style. I was shaking by the time I entered. In my head, I know I can handle physical fights. I have, in the past. But a car chase is something else. After 10 mins at my friend's place, we got out thinking this was a one-off road rage incident. Those men were waiting for us at the corner. They chased us again! We again went on a car chase, but this time I was clearer in my head. I called my friend again and we went back. This time those guys tried to enter the gate saying they were from the 'government.' We asked the security to discreetly take their vehicle number down. The security informed us that they waited for 15 mins and left. We called the police and were connected to a fairly responsive police officer who said he'd talk to someone in his Station and send us an escort.

I even told him that they are right there and that they should get them first. I could wait at my friend's place. Then the Whitefield Police Station called and spoke to me in a highly disgusted tone. And they didn't know my friend's place which was a mere 5 mins away from their Station and falls in their patrol/beat area. It took me 20 mins to explain to them where I was. And in the middle of it all, when they didn't understand, they asked me to come to a common point! Finally 30 mins after my call, they came over to escort us. As we were being escorted out, we saw the guys who chased us! Standing by them were a couple of officers in plain clothes.And a Cheetah bike. One officer spoke to us and we told him exactly what happened. And he mentioned that those guys told him that this was an accident. Apparently, someone in a car similar to ours (number plate, colour and make-wise) hit them and escaped, so they thought our car was that car and chased us. Really? A 5 year old who reads Enid Blyton won't believe that story. I asked about filing a complaint and they said that we could come tomorrow and file a complaint. He told us not to get off the car.

Today, according to their update, that vehicle was involved in chain snatching. Surprised, I said, why trace when you had those people yesterday? Equally surprised, the same Inspector who was responsive that night told us how there was nothing of that sort in the night report. I sat there shocked. How was this information not in the night report? This means we don't have a case. And there are two possibilities here.

1. The police is dumb to have let them go.
2. The police or that particular person who spoke to us is an accomplice. Or, these are regular rowdies who pay them regularly. We even checked on the person who spoke to us with the Hoysala vehicle escorting us home.

When the Inspector promised to check back, he kept me on hold while he inquired in Kannada about what happened the previous night. I heard mumbling but the Inspector was clearly mad and he said in Kannada " DaDDaru ree nam janaa." (translated to 'our people are fools.') So, I thought of believing possibility 1. Then, when I think back to the conversation with my friend's security guard, I realised something. The men, when they tried to enter the complex behind us, gave their names and a 11 digit phone number saying this is the Whitefield Police station number. Of course, I realise this is the security guard's version. However, one of the names that those guys gave them was the same as the name of the police officer who was apparently on duty that night. That name isn't a common name. Surely, this isn't a coincidence? Either they've been in and out of jail and knew the police officer's name and used it to their advantage. Or, of course there is the worst possibility that I'm going crazy about.

With all my police station experience, I know I did the right thing at every point except that I didn't put my foot down and file an FIR the same night. If I didn't file an FIR, they couldn't have kept those people in custody. Fair enough. But not putting it in the report? Surely, something else is wrong here!

I have a 100 theories about every single thing that happened and thanks to my previous experience, I focussed on remembering details this time. I remember what exactly happened, at what time it happened, who we spoke to and how it could have happened. I don't see a way of avoiding this situation apart from the possibility of just not opening the window to tell them anything. But then, I wonder if that'd have made a difference. Were these people waiting on that road for cars like ours to come by so they could intimidate them and rob them? I've read stories where it is mentioned that the area we got chased in gets isolated at night because it's an 'office' area. So, there are people waiting like this to ambush the corporate crowd.

Today when the bell rang at my apt, I shuddered in fear. I refused to open the door. I called the security guys of my apt complex and everyone else on chat and phone and created a huge ruckus. It's possible it was an innocent resident or one of the service people. But I was terrified. I know for a fact that I'm not a paranoid person. I'm not a person who scares easily. I'm not someone who worries over things like this. But today I was, beyond any explanation. During my sister's wedding last month and I was at home alone once, I refused to open the door to a plumber my dad had sent from his office next door. I was quite surprised. This came 4 years after the stabbing took place.

I've only grown paranoid slowly because both the times, the guys were so close to being caught. We almost had them.  This time, I learned from the past and did everything right with the police and they 'seemed' to have let them go. It hurts.

I haven't shared details on this post like the names of the police personnel, the time this happened, the number of the vehicle involved because I'm not letting this go. I'm going to follow it up to see if the police actually let them go. I've not gotten over the men I let go last time. This time, these bastards are paying. Or, at least I'm giving them a fight.

I know this sounds like a random post, but I want to put this out here.