#MeToo

I was an eight year old kid going vegetable shopping with my mother to a local market. My mother would lead the way and I would follow her with a distance of a few feet between us. It was an overcrowded market with constant movements. As I was waiting for my mother to finish bargaining with one of the vendors, I was busy observing the chaos that was going on around. That's when I caught this fair skinned, neatly dressed mid-40 year old man smiling at me. He was wearing a pair of spectacles and carried a large bag to store the vegetables. He was at a distance from us. Thinking of the smile as a sign of kindness, I smiled back. However, I saw that his eyes were fixated on me and his smile had now begun to give me the creeps. I was trying to be as close to my mother as possible. I held her hands tight and slowly turned my head to see if he was still creepliy smiling at me. But I didn't see him there anymore. I felt relieved and forgot about it. My mother finished her shopping and it was time for us to leave. As we were walking towards the exit, my mother asked me to a hold a small bag of lemons. But due to the bad quality of the bag and me swinging it, it underwent a tear and the lemons fell on the ground. Without thinking twice, I bent forward to pick them up. And that's when I had my first lesson of a 'bad touch'. It was the same creepy old man standing right behind me who took the opportunity of me bending down to just be able to grab my butt and rub his hands against it.

I however did not disclose this to my mother and disregarded it as an unimportant memory.

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It was the festival of Diwali and we had a few relatives visiting us to celebrate this festival of lights together. One afternoon, my family went out to run some errands, leaving me with one of the relatives at home. This relative was an old man, around the age of my grandfather and was visiting us for the first time. I was reading a story book in the living room and he was sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. He called me next to him and asked me to read him the stories. He lovingly put his arm around me as I was proudly reading the story book. The next thing I remember was the arm changing its location from shoulders to the back and then slowly into my pants. I mean how could a 9 year old possibly arouse an old man - a question I'm still trying to answer. That made me feel so very uncomfortable that I tried to get up and go away. But he made me sit saying that he wanted me to spend time with him and repeated the disgusting act of putting his hands inside my pants again. Thankfully, by then the door bell rang and it was my mother at the door. I sprinted to open the door and gave her a tight squeeze - was never more relieved to see her!

For some reason, I again chose to shut up and not reveal what happened.

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This next incident happened when I was fifteen and had just completed my 10th grade. I was getting ready to go on a train journey with my family. We were going to visit my grandparents for the summer break. As I was deciding what to wear, I got into an argument with my mother who was convincing me to wear a long kurta so that I looked 'decent' and did not attract 'unwanted attention'. I protested since I wanted to wear something western but eventually agreed to wear a short kurta that covered me till my hips. Train journeys with family were one of the best memories of my childhood. So having had a pleasant train journey, we were now eager to see my grandparents. We were close to our destination. I was so excited to see my grandfather who had come to the station to receive me that I went and stood at the door of the train a few minutes before the station arrived. My parents were a little away with the luggage. As the station was nearing, more and more people started getting their luggage and waiting near the door. As I stood facing the station, and enjoying the breeze on my face, I suddenly felt this hand that grabbing my butt. I turned back and saw a guy who would've been in his early 20s standing behind me laughing! Neither was I able to move because of the crowd nor was I able to raise my voice because I didn't know I had to! I was brought up in such a closed family environment watching cartoons and being a geek that I didn't know what had to be done when I was being groped publicly!

Since I was an overweight teenager who had always been bullied and teased in school, I had too low of a self confidence to be able to raise my voice. He did not remove his hand for about 3-4 minutes making me feel like jumping off the train! As soon as the station arrived, I jumped down and waited for my parents to come. This time I chose not to be silent. I told my parents what had happened, to which my mother said, "see I told you to wear a long kurta! You did not, this was bound to happen" and at that moment I felt like this whole thing was my fault and I kept looking at the floor with shame and embarrassment. But thankfully, my father spoke and he said, "if any such incidences happen to you ever in your life, you are not supposed to stay quiet. You turn back and give that person a tight slap and make a hue and cry about this to attract the crowd because this is a very wrong and a very serious attempt of an assault." Stroking my hair he said, "THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT". As a 15 year old those were the 5 words that I needed to hear the most. I couldn't be more thankful to him for giving me the assurance that it was that disgusting pervert's fault and I wasn't doing anything wrong!

I was determined to exactly react the way I was instructed to if there was ever a next time..

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I was eighteen years old and was pursuing my bachelor degree in physics. One weekend, my friends and I were returning from a mall in an auto. It was a 3 seater but the driver squeezed 4 of us in. I was sitting on the left extreme, my friend sat to my right, a man to the right of and a young boy in the right most extreme. The man sitting in the third position who was seemingly drunk suddenly put his hand around my waist and held it as tightly as possible. As determined as I was to raise my voice or slap the next person who would touch me without my consent, I couldn't. The maximum I could do was to tell him, "can you remove your hand" to which he did not and then I said it louder that the other fellow passengers heard andbwarned him to remove it! I could have stopped the auto, given him a tight slap or after the 10 min ride, told my other friends who were coming in the next auto about it and they would have taken care of him for me! But again I did not.. Now I realised that being mentally prepared about your reaction to such acts and practically reacting on it when it actually happens are very different things.

Even a slight wrong touch can make you feel so disgusted and uncomfortable that it weakens you in that moment, holding you back from reacting in ways you'd like to.

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I had been trying really hard to gather enough guts to give back to such perverts and to not feel weak. But the next incident proved that I still couldn't!

I had been to Mumbai with my father to visit my relatives and we had to travel in the famous crowded Mumbai local trains. As it was my first time, he asked me to be with him in the general compartment (a compartment where men and women travel together). It was the rush hour and the train was so crowded that I had to stand frozen. We were nearing one of the stations and the crowd was getting impatient to get down. It was in between such commotion that a man faced me, looked me in the eyes, touched my breasts, squeezed them, gave me the creepiest grin and got off the train! I was taken by shock.. Before I could realize what happened, he was gone and all the mental strength that I had been building to give back to such assaulters failed me.

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These incidences fill me with regret and frustration that I wasn't ever able to kick them in the balls and make them realize how scarred I am by their actions. I sometimes wonder if we indeed live in a wonderful world and if I'd still want to belive in the idea of motherhood and bringing an innocent child into this unsafe world...