America Calling by Rajika Bhandari

Author:Rajika Bhandari
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

WHILE WE WERE living at the postgraduate women’s hostel at the University of Delhi campus, my friend Radhika and I had made a pact to start jogging in the early morning. But we gave up just three days into our regimen, not because of a lack of resolve, but because groups of young men had begun to chase us on scooters, laughing and catcalling. We had done nothing to invite the “eve-teasing,” a coy term for such harassment. Our bodies were fully covered in long, baggy tracksuits. But I was used to the entitlement that Indian males seemed to have over girls and women, stripping us with their bold gaze—on the streets, on trains and buses, in the market. Everywhere.

As college girls, we partook in social activities that were probably rites of passage for urban youth in any other large city elsewhere in the world. We lingered over tall glasses of cold coffee in cafés, saved money to dine at restaurants, and occasionally danced the night away to the latest hits from the eighties in Delhi’s discos. But with one ground rule: we always needed to be escorted, to have the protection of a man, be it a father, brother, or boyfriend. The unspoken message was that male predators were everywhere.

But sometimes the predators were in our own homes. They included real uncles, honorary uncles, male servants, drivers, teachers, tutors. When I was fifteen, my mother and I visited the beautiful Kashmir valley for the first time, accompanying my mother’s friend Rupa Aunty and her daughter and son. Rupa was well-connected, and so on our arrival, we stayed at the home of Mr. Mansoor Khan, a local politician whom she knew. That first evening we were all catching up on our rest after the long journey from Delhi. Rupa Aunty, Tanya, and Dhruv were in their room unpacking, as was my mother. I was in the sitting room watching some TV, when Mr. Khan walked in to fix himself a drink from the bar cart in the corner of the room.

“Beta, what class are you in?” he asked.

“Tenth, Uncle,” I replied.

“Okay. Are you liking Kashmir?”

I nodded. He was now stirring his drink and I hoped he would leave and that the polite, inane conversation would end soon. But he instead settled himself across the room in an overstuffed armchair and began to read a newspaper. I went back to watching the TV.

He got up a few minutes later to leave the room. As he passed me, he reached out and squeezed my breast. I sat still in shock. Questions ran through my head: Could I have imagined it? Was it an accidental brush of the hand? Surely someone as respectable as he couldn’t do something as awful as this. But my gut told me that this was different and deliberate.

I left the sitting room and rushed to tell my mother. It was a horrible scene. My mother, livid and fierce, stormed into Rupa Aunty’s room to tell her what had happened.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.