I am She.

This post has won the second prize in the Stayfree's 'Time to Change' contest.

Note : Every word written in this article is close to my heart because I, like every other girl, have been a victim myself. Forgive me if my views hurt you in any way.

She was groped in a train when she was 11. A middle aged man pushed her aside while entering the toilet and squeezed her butt. She ran to her mother and never left her side for the rest of the journey. The pain vanished in a couple of minutes but the after-effects did not.

The bus was crowded, little could she do about it. She got in somehow, amidst the valiant touching and staring of the five men standing on the footsteps. A round of hi fives is heard. The old man couldn't keep his itchy hands in his pocket and made sure he pressed himself onto her whenever the driver applied the brakes. She got out at the very next stop. She bathed thrice and felt like she'll never feel clean again.

She was walking her way to the gym and two boys in their late teens brushed by her side on their bike. One of them even took the liberty of touching her breasts inappropriately and then smirked in the delight of the new found information about how 'cool' he is. Before she could understand what just happened, they were out of sight. She turned around and silently headed home, her body felt violated.

She was felt up her school skirt in lure of the conductor pretending to help her get down the bus. Not a word of this was ever spoken to anybody.

In the close confinements of the auto rickshaw, he manages to get a hold and starts masturbating while shamelessly staring at her skirt. Her whole being seethes with anger and she shouts at the driver to stop. She wants to yell 'my dress is not a yes', but follows the road that is always taken and walks away. He smiles and counts upon doing the same to the next passenger. He won. And she lost. Again.

Sometimes I am cruelly put to death as a foetus and when I do get to live, I am expected to tolerate such filth without uttering a word of it to anybody. I have the qualification to earn for myself, I am raped and I am burnt. I am a woman of independent India.

I am She.

She burns with rage when the authorities refuse to walk that extra mile to help her and blame her assumed provocative clothing. She becomes the talk of the town, is discussed over kitty parties by wealthy socialites while sipping their tea, the paparazzi sleeps outside her home for days only to get a statement that can be blown off in the next morning's newspaper.

No man ever marries her and she is served the bitter taste of brutal injustice.

Call me a feminist or a sexist if you must, but being a girl in her early twenties who is not allowed to go to the nearby chemist shop all by her self for the fear of getting marred or molested by a stranger, I don't have a better argument for you. A man once waved a 500Rs note and signaled me to get into his car when I was around sixteen, I felt utterly humiliated and started walking faster towards home. Even if I step out in a burqa covering every inch of my exposed skin, I would be humiliated if those perverts catch a glimpse. None of the incidents mentioned above have been created by my mind, they are well read and make me feel ashamed of being a citizen of such a country. Complaints are written, signed, investigated and then filed away to bite dust. In severe cases, the victim is blamed and boycotted off the society. Nothing that I write here would make a change, until we get out there and try to raise a voice against it. Their temptation exceeds their sanity, but we have to provide proof that ours doesn't. Eve teasing has become a frivolous term now, it is more of sexual harassment, filthy remarks, lewd comments and obscene gestures, be it verbal or physical. Any woman who steps out of her private sphere does not invite this upon herself, as it is quoted. It is not common anymore.

Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandes are my heroes. Despite the apparent quiet of our youth, they fought against this evil act in Mumbai and were stabbed to death by the monsters. At least they had the heart to stand up and put up a fight. But it also plays with a lot of minds when they wonder will we also meet the same fate if we raise our voices ? After the recent twin rapes in Gurgaon, the police issued a notice telling women to stay indoors after 8pm if they don't want to get raped. It sure drew protests from across Delhi-NCR (or should I say National Capital of Rape ?) but to no avail.

If I could be the change I want to see in the world around me, it would be getting rid of this menace called eve teasing. As and how I'm growing up, I realize and understand why my father over-protects me. But I really wonder if that is the only solution ?

I very well know that a lot has been written and spoken about eve-teasing and sexual abuse, and a lot will still pop up on this contest as well, but since this contest came up at the eve of women's day, I wrote about the issue that is closest to my heart. I can never forget the humiliation that I felt when that note was waved at my face.

All the best to all those who are participating in this contest.

This post is an Official entry for Stayfree's Time To Change hosted by IndiBlogger.

Visit the Facebook page for further indulgence into Stayfree's campaign to bring about a change.

http://www.facebook.com/sftimetochange

Do you see the monster walking away with the filth ?

I apologize if the kind of language I use in this post offends you at any point of time. It was really important for me to pen this down without censoring anything.

Since past couple of weeks, I've stopped reading The Times Of India. On purpose. Mom thinks I've become lazy and lost interest in reading because I don't even open Delhi Times. The day before yesterday, she asked me if she should tell the newspaperwallah to stop delivering the english newspaper. Tragedy struck me. I could not part ways with my newspaper. I managed a quick NO and grabbed that day's copy. I couldn't tell her what was going on.

It was yesterday, I turned over to page 2 and there it was in bold capitals '16 year old gang raped by dance teacher and his friends'. Tremors of shock,anger,rage went through me. I read the story. It told they were four of them, and two of them were minors, below fifteen. I was blown away. But I was glad on further reading that the bastards were caught and the case was filed. It made me speak aloud, 'Darn you filth, I'm not proud to be a citizen of my own country because of you'.

Plus what is up with the statistics ? It said compared to 2010's July, 2011's July has reported a 10.73% decrease in rape cases. What the fuck is wrong with this system. Even a single girl raped in 365 days should be a failure for them.

If I were even a little significant in deciding what should be the punishment for these sons of bitches, I would have recommended hanging them, not till they die, but till the victim feels satisfied from within that she has been avenged. Not that it will be of any help, not that the writhing pain would find an outlet out of their crying souls, but because this is all that can be done.

These bastards do whatever their filthy heart desires and then get away with it as easily as they get into it. Who is to be blamed ? The victim ? who sometimes stays quiet fearing public humiliation and future disgrace Or the system ? who listens to those bold hearts who gather the courage to come out, files a case, does some paperwork, catches the accused, and then eventually releases them succumbing to certain superior pressure.

A 12 year old raped,  A 10 year old molested, I mean don't these monsters have any moral conscience ?

An acquaintance of mine who must not be named here, told me an incident the other day that actually moved the ground underneath me. Late at night she was out with some neighborhood buddies for a walk, they waved goodbyes and marched towards their homes. She was suddenly interrupted by a man on his bike who looked like in his twenties, his face was covered, he had an office badge of the company that too must not be named here, and a laptop bag hung diagonally across him. All this description must have pictured a decent guy returning home from work. But the bastard then started doing 'stuff-unmentionable-here' in front of the girl. She froze for a millisecond and ran screaming from there. Listening to this I actually wanted to give Papa a call and thank him for being so strict. My father doesn't even let me go to the next-lane confectioner without somebody elder and responsible with me. I always fought with him saying 'you'll never let me become independent Papa' and storm out of the room. But realization has struck me hard in the head now. And I want to be a parent just like him someday.

Although they've never showed much of her show in India, but I myself look up to this lady. Oprah Winfrey. the legendary philanthropist. was molested at 4, raped at 9, a mother to a boy at 14, who shortly died thereafter, and still a live example for those victims of fate. That lady has obviously not had a normal childhood like we have had but managed to send the people responsible for this behind bars, built a place and standard for herself that would be hard to achieve for any individual who even dares to try for at least another millennium.

I'm a very pretty and happy writer most of the days but I needed to get this out of my head. I just got the news of a 12th grader molesting a kid in 3rd grade and my blur overflowed. I mean for God's sake, he's a little baby who is supposed to paint a sunshine scenery with his newly bought pastels, not experience this cruelty. I wish the bastard gets beaten up to death by an angry mob.

I wish our country apes some of the strict judiciary laws of the west instead of that lame nothingness and nudity.

Tonight, send me a shooting star.

Tonight, I wish a better place to live in.