Gangrenous
intestines. An iron rod. Gangraped by
seven men as her helpless companion looks on and is treated mercilessly. These
brutal images have been on the nation’s mind ever since the news broke out.
The
girl is 23 years old. Exactly my age and battling for life.
Like many others from Calcutta, I too, am a
young professional who has moved to the nation’s Capital to pursue my dreams.
This
is not the first instance of me living away from home, but this is definitely a
city that makes me scared. Scared for my own life. For my own peace of mind.
For the dignity and sanity of those around me.
During
my first week in Delhi, a broker who was showing apartments to me said that
women in this city were raped because they failed to dress ‘decently.’ My
mother and I were so disgusted that we decided to approach other brokers
instead.
“Are
you sure?” my parents said to me, the night before I moved to Delhi “Are you
sure you want to move to Delhi? You could just stay here, you know. I don’t
feel comfortable knowing that my daughter will live all alone in a city known
to be barbaric in its treatment of women.”
I
understood my parents' concerns. He was speaking from the vantage point of
thousands of parents whose children had moved out of the city, looking for
better lives and better career opportunities. As a policy researcher, the
Capital of the country provides opportunities to me unparalleled in other
parts. Sadly, I cannot say the same thing about the safety of its women and the
indignities meted out to them on a daily basis.
The
rape of this young woman is symptomatic of a much larger systemic problem. Rape
is not an isolated incident. It has never been. During every riot in history,
women’s bodies have been used in order to assert power. The problem lies in the
attitude- in the thought process. If women are objectified and thought of as
property or pawn, this will keep happening. Is it so difficult to imagine or
fathom that women are self-actualized human beings- capable of thinking,
capable of being independent and being able to make their own decisions?
While
walking towards an auto the other day, a young boy walked up to me and said
“hello! Hello, how do you do?” I glared at him and looked him in the eye and
said, “Don’t talk to me like this.” The boy was dumbfounded and scarpered off.
The incident happened in broad daylight, but if I am perfectly honest I do not
know if I would have the courage to speak my mind in a city that is known to be
trigger-happy.
Only
recently, a seventeen year old school girl was shot by a man because she told
him not to urinate on the walls of the streets. My first thought when I want to
protest is, “What if the person has a gun? What shall I do then?”
We
talk of improving legislations; we talk of awareness and safety. I carry a
pepper spray in my bag at all times. Even if is very late at night, I always
have friends accompanying me to drop me home. We are cautious; we take the
necessary precautions. All we really want is to live our lives, to have the freedom
to be- to debate, to discuss, to not be harangued every time we step out of our
houses.
Clearly those are freedoms that are too much
to ask for.
[ This is a piece I wrote two years ago, almost immediately after the rape incident.It is a first person narrative account.]
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