Daily Harassment faced by Women in India

Annie writes
Streets, stories, strategies

I had my doubts about blogging this - writing about street harrassment.
After all, it's as common-place as paan stains, as ubiquitous as spit.... Will my saying 'NO' to harrassment prevent it? How does telling my stories serve any purpose?

Some things, you learn to expect, growing up a girl.

You expect to confront harrassment as surely as the sun in May and the fog in a Delhi December.

When you leave the house, an invisible snake of alert suspicion will wind down from your shoulders down your back and become a clenched fist in all public spaces, through all journeys.

How optimistic you're feeling about man-kind, on any given day, determines whether you take a bus home, or just hop into an auto, or a cab, knowing you cannot really afford it. If you really cannot afford an auto some day, you will not take the bus at rush-hour.
You'll let bus after bus after bus go past. Waiting is tiresome. But waiting is easier than bristling.

You didn't always expect to do this, of course. One learns these things, by and by.

I began learning in Bombay. Yes, that delightfully sprawling city that is so kind to its women.
My first lesson was delivered atop the railway bridge at Andheri station when I was 13 years old. My first visit to this city by the sea. The first brush with the overspilling local trains. The first time someone grabbed my 13-year old breast.

After all these years, I cannot forget - his face pudgy, more fair than dark, moustache, white shirt, briefcase in hand, big belly, must have been about 40. Old enough to be my father. I remember he had walked into me - or pretended to - and while I struggled with the shock of what he'd been doing under the guise of walking into me, he calmly walked past... just a regular uncle-ji hurrying home after a hard day at work.

What did I do?
Nothing. I kept walking on, beside my brother.... My 17-year old brother who might have picked a fight if I'd told him.... What could I have told him?... It was too late anyway. The crowds had swallowed all of us up so completely.

For the whole post which is definitely readable, visit
Streets, stories, strategies

I think this is a very courageous effort by Annie to write about it. All of us women, know that it happens. But a sense of dirtiness/guilt/embarrassment prevents us from talking about it openly.
My first bad experience was when I was 13 in Mysore. We had gone for the Dusshera fair at the Palace and in that crowd, someone grabbed me. This had never hapenned to me before. As a young teen I had absolutely no idea what had hapenned or how to react (especially coming from a small town where every1 knew every1 & hence "behaved") The crowd was so dense that I could not identify the disgusting bastard who had squeezed me.
The physical pain was just one part of it. The mental & emotional confusion lasted much much longer. It wasn't something u could discuss with your dad or your mom. Why worry them when there was nothing that they could do about it?

I've had to face this silent oppressment from unknown men in a lot of cities after that. Delhi is the worst oppressor since women have no status at all and every man is related to a politician or a policeman. Mumbai perverts have a free run because of the anonymity of the crowds.

In Delhi, I was most comfortable when I wore the most unshapen clothes & covered up in umpteen layers. I recently heard the true story of a call centre cab being chased and smashed by a sumo full of haryanvi jats. The only occupants of that cab were the driver and a long haired male employee. Only after they had smashed the cab did the "men" realise that it was a male employee & left (note left not fled) the scene.

In mumbai the local trains and transport systems offer the worst security. Sometimes U feel a ladies compartment isn't enough. We need a ladies platform or a ladies only station.

I now have the luxury of travelling in my car with my driver. In general the Mumbai male is polite and respectful, but something happens to him when he is in a crowd. Unlike a mob mentality, it is the anonymity of the whole process that lends courage to him & he behaves like a depraven disgusting piece of shit who doesn't deserve to walk the face of this earth.

What have I learnt ?
i have learnt to walk with my elbows sticking out at the waist & give a really hard shove to anyone who walks too close to me.

I have learnt to scream & shout in overnight buses {where men with extra long hands think its easy fun to paw a woman (in the seat in front or at the side or when walking down the aisle) } until the conductor either gets the man off the bus or the man is humiliated in public to an extent that he will think 10 times before doing it again.
Some of my aunts who would rather not bring attention to themselves, keep themselves armed with large safety pins & draw blood from wandering hands.
The problem in Chennai buses is so bad that some bus operators don't accept women travelling alone even if u r willing to book 2 tickets.

So conditioned have I become to this roving hands phenomenon, that I am extremely uncomfortable on packed flights when I have checked in late & had to sit between 2 men, that I spend the whole flight literally with my arms wrapped around myself. I'm still paranoid & cant feel comfortable resting my arms on the armrests on these pokey seats. I think its time to reserve ladies seats on flights too.
I havent' had a bad experience on a flight yet, but it could be because of the no-nonsense expression on my face. But yes u do have the occassional co-passenger whose head drops 2 the side when he is catching a short nap & u never know if it is deliberate or intentional so U wake him up never the less & tell him to stick to his side of the seat.

I have had worse expereinces in my earlier days. They have become almost nil now. Whether its because :
- there are younger & better looking prey available
- I have a no-nonsense or I'll punch u HARD in the Face or worse in the Groin look about me.
- I have become more cautious & consciously avoid putting myself into risky situations. (waiting for 3 more trains to pass although I might b late for my morning meeting)

At least now I am not subject to the guilt & frustration of being a woman in India.