Men vs MEN

It was a bright, chirpy morning. I could see the blue clouds hanging off the sky after so long, but I couldn’t care about it. My stomach was in a nervous, anxious pit, and I was also worried about the bile rising in my throat. I waited until the clock ticked at 1:15 PM and walked to the bus stop. I was hanging on to every small thing that would make me feel better. My head was aching so badly for no reason, and I had to brace myself. This was the third interview, and I had to crack this. It was something important, and I was anxious about anything and everything.

The bus started when I boarded; most of the seats were empty. I changed my seats twice because I couldn’t say if the engine heat was hitting my face or just the weather. Finally, I settled on the left side of the bus’s window seat, which calmed me. As I was slowly drifting off to sleep, I found someone come sit beside me as soon as I settled. It alarmed me because it was a ladies-only seat, and there were plenty of empty seats in the men's section for him to sit beside me. I was suspicious, but I also didn’t want to make any scene. With an aching head, it was hard for me to keep my eyes open wide, but there was a man beside me whom I couldn’t ignore. He spread his legs wide and put his hands on his thighs, and then he slowly moved his hand and lightly brushed his shoulder with mine. If I didn’t observe from the corner of my eyes, I wouldn’t know. I still couldn’t confirm if he did it intentionally. So I did what any woman would do: I moved towards my side and stuck to the window. He did not look me in the eye, nor did I. He kept looking at me as though he were looking out of the window. And I knew that moment, with the way he was looking at me, that he did have perverted intentions. I steeled my jaw to calm myself, and I waited for the right moment. It would be foolish of me to jump or shout at him when according to everyone over there I would be making a scene. So I waited. He slowly brought his arm close to mine, gliding his hands on his thighs, and I abruptly moved before he could touch, and he knew that I knew. He moved towards the end, and he bent forward and changed his hand position. He put his right palm towards me and moved his fingers like he wanted to grab onto something; he looked back and forth as if scared of anyone catching him in the act. Now this confirms that he was a molester and a clever coward. I was scared a little, but I knew what to do. I opened my phone, which alerted him, and tried to call my friends.

To my luck, none of them lifted, and I kept trying, and when finally someone took the call, I said, “Heya Siri, 1091 is the number for women sexual harassment and rape, right?” She panicked; she was scared, but she was there with me. I was loud and clear, and I kept talking calmly, and he got off. The moment he got off, the anxiety kicked in, thinking of all the possible situations I might have ended up in.

Why can’t I just worry about my interview? Why can’t I just worry about dozing off on the bus and missing my stop? Why do I need to always worry about someone’s hands or legs? Why do I need to always read the room and stay alert? Why can’t I be free and safe? Why am I to be blamed if I don’t carry pepper spray or a scarf or if my phone is switched off? Why am I blamed for how I look or whatever I dress saying that is leading men to commit such atrocities?

It took me more than a while to swap out of the situation. I arrived at the place a little later than I intended, but I wasn’t late for the interview. I had one more hour, and I was confused about the location. It showed 850 m away, but I couldn’t figure out the route. So I booked Rapido. The Rapido driver arrived, and he told me that the location was nearby. He asked me twice if he should cancel the ride. And I told him no because I didn’t have any spare energy left in me to walk or think about the directions. When we reached the location, he kindly guided me on how I could reach the metro station while going back. It took everything in me to not break down. It made me smile and feel human. I was embarrassed about my lack of directional sense, but that was the last thing I could care about. That night, once I hit the bed, everything hit me at once. How I am disgusted by men, but how I love the men in my life. 

Akash, I never met him in real life, but to think he was the one who comforted me through my experience of watching my friend almost getting harassed and getting no help from so-called friends? Assuring me like a real brother? You say he has some motives?

Chaitanya, he didn’t have to stay up late to talk about my trauma and comfort me through all the panic attacks I had, did he? Is he doing it to take advantage of me?

Kailash, having gone through a similar experience, does he need to be so gentle and kind to all the people he meets? But he is, isn’t he?

Ritesh saved a lady from two strangers at midnight. Did he need to turn his bike and go back to that street to make sure she was safe?

I’m sure there are many more. They are MEN.

First of all, do we need men to save us?

What am I trying to tell here? You get to choose which side you want to be. Honestly, we need no one to save us if people like these do not make bad and disgusting choices. To play with someone’s life, someone’s body. There are men... and there are MEN. There are MEN with us protesting for our safety, and I hope 'men’ will think sixteen times before they make someone feel uncomfortable, stalk them, touch them, force them, or kill them. The least you could do during these times is not make a sexist joke and rub it off on our faces and prove that our life sucks, slide into our dm's with creepy texts, or scare us with your oh-so-harmless pranks/bets.

With rage and reality,

Kaali