violate

I hugged Dushy and KK. I had had a wonderful yet scandalizing time staying at their bachelor pad. Now I am no cleanliness freak myself. I love mess and camping in mess, making space for myself on my bed after a hard day’s night, is pretty adventurous and impromptu and it suits me just fine. But this was not a pad…it was a whole new world. Where one entire bedroom was dedicated to a pigeon and her eggs and the others filled into what was left in the house. The men were on a hair today gone tomorrow mission, which meant religious oiling or “champi” session as you call it…and minutes which in their world was hours, combing their tresses and strewing the hair strands all around.
It took me atleast two days to get used to the balls of crinkled black on the floor!

I had a good time. A very very good time. I was back in Hyderabad after 6 months, and it was still intact. A mix of two worlds, a foodie’s abode to heaven and yes for people who enjoy controversy, it was teeming with it. The city was “bandh” for two days that I was there due to the Telangana demands and security threats. The movies were as cheap as can be, and I wanted to watch all the bollywood movies before I got back to Bangalore which is synonymous to mooch-me-off-my-meagre-pay city.

I boarded the bus. This seemed neat, and I started chatting up the lady next to me. A fashion designer for Lee. Interesting. After a bit of conversation everyone in the bus shut their eyes and went into REM land. I have had random jacks annoying the crap out of me before with i-will-stare-at-thy-till-some-telekinesis-takes-place-and-I-can-unbutton-thy experiences so in spite of being a heavy (pun intended) snoozer, I am an owl in a bus.

I finally gave into losing my vigilance and drifted off into a snooze. I covered myself with a blanket right up to my head.

4 30 am. Someone actually uncovers me and soon there is a hand on my breast and I wake up in shock. I see a glimpse of the person in the darkness, but the oaf a lady (you will see why I detest her so much) next to me is so wide, that I miss grabbing his hand. I yell out. I scream out. People around me stir. I am reeling in shock. My left breast is burning.
My co passenger says to me, “ oh that’s horrible. What can be done about it now…just forget it and go back to sleep”.
I want to slap her across the face but that’s not going to help either. I have been violated and there is no one ready to even help. I am in shock.

Around me are men, some the age of my dad. One of them looks at me with a lecherous expression and keeps looking till he dozes off again. I must have resembled an angry porcelain statue because I was stupefied.

I wait for a while. The sun is rising. I wake the bison next to me. I walk up to the cabin of the conductor and driver and knock. They open the window. I complain, I tell them what happened to me.
They pretend that I am talking an incomprehensible dialect. Oh god, why do we have so much diversity than I feel like a freak each time I cross a border. Why cant people speak just one god damn language!
I ask two young guys at the front if they could help me translate. I narrate to him exactly what happened.
The scene is exactly like a bollywood court room drama with the heroine being questioned about her unfortunate violation by Danny.
Where, How…and then sorry, due to the lack of evidence, the case closes and a thousand other men decide it’s that easy to molest a lady.
I am choking…I am angry as hell can be. I can’t pin point to one person though I know it is one of those workers in the bus, who distribute water bottles. He was tiny, a half man.
He is right next to the conductor and he’s got the goose bumps.

He tells the conductor it’s the cleaner. The cleaner, a gruff looking man is woken up and brought in front of me. I say this is not the person.

I can understand telugu, and I heard the conductor asking my violator, you did it right?
He turns to me and says, you should have come earlier. The man must have got down the bus by now.
I refuse. I have been up all night watching. No one around me even budged when I screamed. And trust me the man is very much in front of me.

“Sorry madam , but this is the first time this is happening in our travels.”
“How many more times do you want it to happen before you take action.”
My translators add in vehemence, “You want some one to be raped, katha?” Some people are snickering by now.

Meanwhile the entire bus is staring at me wide eyed. I am sure many of them where thinking, ok this is turning out to be melodramatic. People just staring…Not a single stare of empathy, even from the ladies. Was I speaking the right tongue? It is Hindi right?

I am shaking..I am sobbing…I am not even angry with the boob groper anymore. I am disgusted at the lack of sensitivity in the entire bus. I am sick at the bison who sat next to me,who had a younger sister like me…was it so commonplace for a girl to get molested that it loses its spark of controversy also, and its just not worth fighting for anymore.

I was amused at the number of ball-less men in the bus; this could be an interesting case study.

I walk back to me seat. I wanted to say Thank you all. That will be all. My stand up act is over! You were a dead audience by the way.

I walk back in pain. I am shaken. But my breast is not burning anymore. I have at least fought for myself.

I wonder how many women out there go through this and do nothing about it because they are just too embarrassed or scared.. it’s a horrible feeling. Your body cries out in pain.

Enough of this.

Least to say, the man lost his job. One of my friends saw to that, and though I don’t know how he did that…I am not really vindicated. My sympathy to the families of the dead souls in the bus. May their souls RIP.