When in Chennai, my radar is always on and scanning.
Living alone as a single working woman in Chennai in the late 90s, the radar HAD to be always on and scanning. Being somewhat partial to the act of walking, I never owned or drove a vehicle. As a result, the simple act of walking on the road was a default necessity in my daily life. And one that demanded that I remain in constant state of heightened alertness.
I was alert and the radar switched on late one evening in 2005 as I walked the short (but rather poorly lit) route from work to home. The street was deserted but for two middle-aged men on bicycles, who were chatting and riding leisurely from the other end of the street. As they inched closer, fragments of their conversation (the state of Tamil Nadu politics, what else) drifted towards me. My radar was on but not blinking furiously when suddenly the right-hand of one of the men lunged towards me, even as the other continued talking. I stepped back in alarm about to start shouting obscenities, despite being acutely aware that there were no passers-by to rally. A good confrontation can be a dramatic piece of street theatre with a clear and compelling message for the audience, Martha Langelan argued in her 1993 book, Back Off! How to Confront and Stop Sexual Harassment and Harassers. There was some theatre that evening, but just not in the way I had anticipated.
As I stepped back ready to holler, the man on the second bicycle beat me to the obscenity:
“What the f*** are you doing?” he shouted in Tamil to the harasser. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What the hell do you think of yourself?” I yelled.
“Oh”, said the harasser, looking away and somewhat shocked at facing censure where he least expected it. Then: “Oh, amma, sorry, sorry. Very sorry.”
The bicycles passed me. I quickened my pace and headed in the direction of home, which was less than a minute away. For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then I heard the conversation resume behind my back.
“What was that you did there?”
“Uh..uh..uh..”
Silence.
“What the f*** are you doing?” he shouted in Tamil to the harasser. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What the hell do you think of yourself?” I yelled.
“Oh”, said the harasser, looking away and somewhat shocked at facing censure where he least expected it. Then: “Oh, amma, sorry, sorry. Very sorry.”
The bicycles passed me. I quickened my pace and headed in the direction of home, which was less than a minute away. For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then I heard the conversation resume behind my back.
“What was that you did there?”
“Uh..uh..uh..”
Silence.
Our roads continue to be fraught with danger and harassment in public spaces remains a serious quality of life offense against females. We MUST hollerback. We must also urgently reclaim the footpath in Indian cities for pedestrians and demand improved streetlighting on our roads. And, we must not shy away from hollering back in the private spaces of our homes as well, when needed. Especially against that all-too-common ‘that’s what happens to girls who are too independent’ taunt that – sadly enough – often comes from our mothers and grandmothers.
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