An Indian woman’s plea to the government.

Respected leaders

I am no famed actress or celebrated celebrity; I belong to an ordinary family with a loving mother, a pampering father and beautiful angels whom I call my grandparents. I’m thankful, or rather grateful to all the work you have put in towards the country to make it a better place to live in, and all the pride and honor you have brought to my mother land in the form of various deals, partnerships, summits and a variety of events which have famed this country’s status. But my plea today is way more elementary and might be laughed at by many as a mere joke. But I write this with a heavy heart, which not only makes me moan, but makes every ‘human’s’ heart weep.

I am looked down upon at public places; I am called names, and my clothing and character are questioned upon; my integrity and virtue are tossed by silly and disgusting remarks about my body, face, or even the way I walk. Even then I walk with pride and I try to believe that one day those dirty eyeballs will stop staring, those hands will brush pass my body truly by accident, my angelic beauty will be praised by those devil minds and whispered into a friend’s ear, those speeding cars will stop for actually inquiring about specific directions. But sadly that day hasn’t come and it doesn’t appear to in the near future. For all the dirt which was hurled at me in public places, why shall I be blamed? Is it because I am beautiful? Is it because I am attractive to the opposite sex? Is it because I am naive? Is it because I don’t speak out, or is it because I have the privilege to be a woman? I am a rightful citizen of this nation with the right to use the public transport like any male citizen, be it the metro, the autorickshaw or the bus. The autowalla concentrates more on me using the rear view mirror rather on the road; he is more interested to see my hair coming on my face than taking the correct turn, he is more interested to hear my voice by asking silly questions about my destination. But I know where and why all these dirty gestures and sudden breaks come from. Yet I sit there with crossed fingers for my destination to arrive, because once that happens, and after he gets the pleasure to touch my hands while I hand him the notes, I get the pleasure of never seeing him again. I ride a metro as its fast and air conditioned. I choose the ladies’ compartment, not out of common sense but out of my own personal sense to live a more respectful and peaceful life. But sadly even then men push themselves into the coach especially designated to women, and get an opportunity to bump into me and say sorry with a sarcastic grin. Then when I ride a bus, I grip onto my bag and belongings in the fear of losing them, while my most prized possession, my honor, my respect, my body is out there for anyone to brush themselves on, fall on, touch, feel up. At times I feel like wearing their mothers’ mask on my face and wonder if it would still be the same. Would I then be gang raped on a bus? And then I realise, these animals will stop at nothing. Because that’s what they are. Savage animals.

The feeling of helplessness and emptiness surrounds my soul, as I am objectified. I am a victim of human trafficking, gang rapes, domestic violence, eve teasing, slavery, and my criminals are treated like men who merely had an urge for a sexual encounter, like men who had committed no sin, like men who showed their ‘manhood’ by putting me down. To these men, their mothers, sisters and daughters mean nothing. They do not respect the other, and somehow, better gender. I stopped wearing revealing clothes, stopped partying with friends, stopped walking out of the house after dark, stopped being friendly to my male friends, and now what shall I do, stop breathing? Apparently, according to the people who matter, it is the girl who invites trouble on herself. The men are merely “provoked”. And yet, after all my precaution, daytime rape cases , acid attacks ,men pulling my handbag and tugging on my dupatta, rape drugs at formal events, cameras being installed inside changing rooms, men peeking inside women’s washrooms, women being mentally, verbally and physically abused by ‘dear’ ones hasn’t stopped, has it? So now I ask, who is at fault? Am I still the one to be blamed? I cannot walk on the road I pay taxes for because I fear of being insulted. I cannot go shopping with a free mind because the trial room frightens me, I cannot live a peaceful and safe life all because I am a woman ?

I plea to the government of India to introduce strict laws against rape and all the other kinds of violence women today face. There are countries that chop a man’s hand off for touching a woman or hang a man in public for raping a woman. If venom defeats venom, why can’t this be done in India, a country where there are more number of female goddesses and in which small girls are worshiped, a country which had a woman president in the recent past, and a country which proclaims to be ‘Mother’ India? Why can’t the women in such a country be treated with equal respect and dignity, if not more? An example has to be set for such disgusting crimes or otherwise there will be no change. It may seem pleasurable to a man stroking his mustache with pride and walking with a bloated chest that he has put a woman down by doing all this, but this male chauvinistic nature is something that has to be eradicated for the development of this country and to make it livable. I am ready to be the change I want to see.I plead for your support in my fight for respect for my womanhood and my fight for a country where I can feel safe every second no matter what time of the day it is , where I am or whether I am alone or not. Please let me die a respectful and peaceful death. After all even my birth was frowned upon my many .Thanking you in anticipation of your help and support.

With regards

An Indian woman