“But wasn’t
it five in the evening!”
She managed
an affirmative nod amidst her miserable sobs.
I, for the first time in my life, had left the
comforts I had often taken for granted. It was a new chapter in my life and the
dreams, the fire to reach new heights and explore the unexplored visible in
my eyes couldn’t go unnoticed. But life comes with its quirky shades and surprises
and she had always stood by me during those days when life seemed no less than
a battlefield. More than a roommate, Seema had been a guide and a friend to me.
30 minutes earlier: 5.30pm
Two years back, on the same day, our journey as roommates had
begun. Unlike the common perception that girls staying together can never gel
well, we had turned inseparable.
After a hard day at work, I had managed to leave early. On
the way back home, carrying a smile and an expression of a warrior who had won
the battle of Kurukshetra in matter of a day, I was making a mental note of
what was to be worn to look my best during our second-anniversary-roommates-celebration comprising
of a movie followed by a lavish dinner at a fancy restaurant.
It never ceases to
amaze me how life holds the power to turn mechanical. Following the same set of actions, I entered
the gate, threw a broad smile at the security personnel which again had become
a habitude for the good, walked past the kids riding their bright colored bicycles
and their mothers gossiping their hearts out, I entered the lift, took out the
keys and finally entered the house with a smirk unlike my mood which has
of-late turned erratic.
What I witnessed came as a shock to me. I froze for a moment,
silently trying to decipher what had become of her.
I inadvertently dropped my bag on the floor and ran up to her.
Seated in the corner of the room, with her head down, she was in a state of complete
mess. I could hear her sobs underneath her head rested on her knees.
The moment I sat next to her, she lifted her head. Tears were
rolling down her cheeks and her usual fearless eyes had turned red. The moment
she looked at me, I understood it was more than a tussle with her manager because
at such times, she often displayed a nonchalant attitude. She never bothered
herself with love affairs so a breakup after effect was a remote possibility.
It had to be way more serious.
Holding her face in my hand and wiping her tears, I asked
her, “What is wrong?”
She hugged me tight and wept to her heart’s content. I had
never, in these two years, seen her so frail.
“Unusual it may sound but the street was absolutely deserted
today.” She said with eyes still red from all those hours of crying. What
followed filled me with anger and disgust.
The street that leads us to our home from the closest bus stop is more often than not bustling with commuters. The two wheelers with pillions either sitting close to the driver in order to be audible while talking or strangely holding the rest on the extreme end of the pillion seat, cars honking for no particular reason and pedestrians either lost in the virtual world of their cell phones or saving themselves from the wrath of the drivers.
“I was walking at a normal pace when a bunch
of motorcyclists surrounded me, started making lewd comments and groped me”. I
could still see the fear in her eyes, her hands clutching the corner of her
trousers. She had been controlling her tears all this while.
“She needs some time” I thought. But she is of a kind who doesn't like creating a storm inside. I let her vent out. I, to an extent, knew how it
felt but my tears would make it worse. I held them back.
“I managed to escape from their hold and started running.
They followed me. Hit me on the back.” The length of her sentences reflected how scared
she was and how desperately she wanted to let it all out.
“Did you cry for help?” I had read an article on how girls can
protect themselves when in such a situation. Honestly, at most of the times,
they don’t work.
“I cried for help. I could see some people pass by but no one
cared to stop.” Her teeth clenched and the fear in her eyes suddenly turned into
fury.
”The thought of taking a short cut struck my mind. But it was more secluded. Had I taken that
route, things would have got worse. Instead, I entered the next gate I came
across and climbed up the stairs, stayed there for a while.” She was literally
gasping for breath.
“I climbed down the stairs and ran, not looking back. I
knew they were around. I could hear the roaring sound of the bike engines and I ran. I
managed to reach our gate and warned the security personnel to look out for
those rascals.”
She hugged me tightly.”I was scared to death” she said.
“You are a brave girl Seema. Did you note down the number? We’ll
drag them to the police station and ensure they pay for it.” I said, still
hugging her.
“It didn't occur to me. I was in shock and in pain.” she said. I handed over a glass of water. I knew no words would comfort her. She needed some time to heal.
We decided to celebrate the evening. We
ordered Chinese food from her favorite restaurant and saw a movie.
I couldn't help but ponder over, all through the evening, what has
become of us-humans. In order to gratify our egos, we commit the most heinous
crimes. What would they have achieved by chasing a girl who they knew was
vulnerable? What would have happened to her if she was away from the house, in a place she wasn't acquainted with?
It is a sickness, a disease that can be eradicated and done away with, from the grassroots level, only if men are taught to respect women from childhood. The patriarchy has
acted as a fungus to the society since centuries. Parents should not let their son grow up to be a male chauvinist.
A twofold increase in the rape
cases have been observed between 1990 and 2008. In addition to these, several
go unreported and we claim to be growing as a society, as human beings. What an irony! What bothers me more
is the lack of willingness of the people to come forward to help. How can they
sleep with themselves at night with the guilt of turning a deaf year to the victim
pleading for help? By doing that, they are to be equally blamed for the crime
as the abuser.