Ask me if I am asking for it

I liked to be out of the house in the evening. The glittering multicolored lights of my metropolitan city coupled with the cool breeze and a careless chattering with my friend used to give me a false sense of being out and about. Not having to worry about the pocket money or public transport anymore I felt I was so independent.

And then I got a wakeup call.

A girl, very close to my age and who knows, she might have been like me in so many ways got raped in a moving bus as it  grazed the poshest of localities of our very esteemed national capital. These six murderers of humanity not only slaughtered her honor repeatedly and brutally but physically damaged her in ways that will be unimaginable to a sane mind. The girl is in coma and we don’t know if she will live or not, but even if she does, I doubt that the physical and mental trauma caused to her will let her lead a normal life.

I can’t stop thinking about her. It had happened before too. It will continue to happen again. It feels as if it’s only a matter of chance and time that one day it will happen to me, my friend or my sister. And the fact that I am so helpless against it makes a shiver run down my spine. It’s a little heartening to see that India stands united against such heinous atrocity committed on a girl who must have been someone’s daughter, sister and friend. The mass protests at the front doors of our symbol of freedom, the Raisina Hills and the subsequent attempt of the authorities to curb and regulate the protests leaves us with a certain sense of reassurance that perhaps the time has come. Perhaps, the people have awakened from their self imposed slumber where it went without saying that the girls venturing out after dark were risking too much and were to be blamed themselves if something untoward were to happen.

"What were you wearing?"

"How long was your skirt?"

"Were your jeans too skinny?"

"How tight was the top that you were wearing?"

"Did you say something?"

"Where you laughing too loudly?"

It makes me think, what am I supposed to do? Maybe I should apologize if my clothes or overtly pleased demeanor makes someone feel like a rapist.  Maybe, I should not step out of my house alone because obviously, I might get raped. But the chattering and giggling with my friend on the streets might make some men want to molest us, or just ‘harmlessly’ eve- tease us if we are lucky. Maybe, I should not step out of my house without some male company just like the medieval times. But the rapists on prowl would not hesitate in attacking my innocent brother or friend after spotting a girl on the loose. Perhaps, they would beat him up, kill him and then rape me. Maybe, I should not step out of the house at all. If Gods are with me, perhaps I will come across no rapist who will be audacious enough to break into my house and then rape me. Yes, I can sure live in that hope.

Our Society very enthusiastically teaches its women not to get raped rather than teaching the men not to rape. When I see all this anger, and I have a considerable share of it, towards the police or the government for not being vigilant enough, not being able to convict enough or not having laws that are strict enough, it brings me to the ultimate question- will the rapes stop from happening if there is more vigilance, conviction and laws? The answer is quite sinister.

Because it still remains unanswered as to who will vigil the psyche that has absolutely no qualms about seeing women as objects belonging to the bed and the kitchen? Who will convict the mind that has been fed from its cradle that women are inferior beings? What laws will prevent one from the having an urge to strip and tear apart every girl who might be laughing too loudly wearing a red lipstick?

I think we as a nation are all in favor of laws that will prevent, atleast deter some men from committing such monstrous acts that fails all imagination but also, we need to mend the fractured psyche that allows such gruesomeness to occur. We, as a nation need to respect its women because time and again, we have failed at it miserably despite the various glorification  And ladies, when your son tells you about his various harmless escapades with girls, please think twice before labeling them “loose” and considering your dear son some kind of Greek God because chances are, your adorable son is no better himself. And girls, please stop blaming your boyfriend/husband’s aggression on the butter chicken, and  take a reality check when he touches you without your consent. We need to change the mindset.

We need a change and  we need it now.

Because every time I wear a skirt, I am definitely not “Asking for it”!